I know I still owe my pictures and explanations for my trip to China, but my mom has breast cancer. She felt a lump maybe two weeks after we got home from China on a Sunday. Went into see a doctor that next day Monday and had her first treatment within two weeks of that first doctor's appointment.
Things moved fast, she had MRIs, PET scans, blood work, biopsies, x-rays and pick-lines. The only thing she was worried about were the needles. She said when she first found out that she's not afraid to die. That's probably a fair and very real statement, but today two days after her second Chemo treatment she felt sick and sore. She sounded helpless because more hair is falling out in the shower and then we had somewhat surface conversation about how she and dad might go to the ward talent show that started 5 minutes ago, but she wasn't sure she was up to it.
Was this the same talent show she mentioned at her follow up appointment on Tuesday (2 days ago)? She was sitting on the bench in the doctor's office and trying to come up with funny things she could say about cancer because she still might sign up and do some stand-up bits.
It must be hard, but I realize that seeing or hearing her struggle isn't what makes me sad or tear up. It's all the flashes of memories from my childhood when I'm cuddling with her, or my careless childhood laughter as she's tickling me, or we're cutting our hair short so it's not so bad when it falls out. It's the contrast of the warmth of past memories with the cool front of the current situation. It's actually like my own little monsoon season, within the monsoon season. With all the different climates interacting, it's bound to rain sometimes.
