memories
It being the holiday season, my thoughts have gone to my mother quite a bit lately. That's pretty usual, but I wanted to share a story about her...kinda sappy I guess, but if you think that, you can just go to hell. :)
My mom was diagnosed with cancer in mid-October, 1997. That was two weeks before my 21st birthday and a week before my application to study for a semester in Prague was due. The news effectively cancelled both. It was also the week before my mom had planned to take a trip to Toronto. That trip wasn't cancelled at all.
When she first got the news during one of those long-awaited for, long-dreaded phone calls it devastated her. Her face became red, her eyes swollen, tears streaming, and a repeating of her wishing to be there for her sons as they went through life poured from her lips. It was, obviously, a very emotional and debilitating day for all of us, her epecially.
The following day she called the tour people through which she had planned this weekend getaway many months before. "I'm not sure I'll be able to go" she told them "I was diagnosed with cancer this week and I may have to start chemotherapy, in which case I don't think I would have the strength to go". They were kind about the situation, telling her that it would be fine, that she woud receive the fullest of refunds possible, just to let them know. I guess the same thing had happened only weeks before -- a woman being diagnosed with breast cancer just befre a trip -- they told my mother this.
In any case, she didn't have to start chemo. She went on the trip. Even though she had just gone through the most emotionally draining week of her life and received the most horrid words that most of us could even imagine -- "it's cancer" -- she went to Toronto and didn't let it spoil any of her fun. The pictures that she brought back all had her smiling. The things she had to say were about how wonderful a time she had -- not about the thing that was growing inside of her. She was even herself enough to remember a running joke I had about wanting to go to Canada to get some Cuban cigars and brought one back for me. It was as if she had never received the news. It was as if she had forgotten. It seemed that way, even though I know that it was still right there on top of her mind. She had that sort of resiliency, she was able to forge ahead against even the greatest current. She loved life, and she wasn't about to let a gun to her head stop her from continuing to do so.
It's one of my mother's traits that I wish I had. I do to some extent, but not nearly as fiercely as she did. That week had me give a presentation the day after her biopsy results came in. I hadn't prepared too much for it, having panned on doing it the night before I had to make it. The night of the news. In between tears and bawling fits, I read my Dewey and prepared my notes for the next day. I plowed through it and got everything together. The next day, in class, I was lackluster, the professor saying tht my presentation "led the horse to water, but didn't let him drink". I could have used my mom's news as an excuse, but I wasn't going to. As horrible a night it was, I wasn't about to let others give me pity.
I guess in that sense, I am somewhat like my mother. That's a good thing. I loved my mom dearly and at times like this I really, really miss her. It's good to know that she is still alive though, or at least a little bit, in me.
Edit -- for another mom story, read "blue".
My mom was diagnosed with cancer in mid-October, 1997. That was two weeks before my 21st birthday and a week before my application to study for a semester in Prague was due. The news effectively cancelled both. It was also the week before my mom had planned to take a trip to Toronto. That trip wasn't cancelled at all.
When she first got the news during one of those long-awaited for, long-dreaded phone calls it devastated her. Her face became red, her eyes swollen, tears streaming, and a repeating of her wishing to be there for her sons as they went through life poured from her lips. It was, obviously, a very emotional and debilitating day for all of us, her epecially.
The following day she called the tour people through which she had planned this weekend getaway many months before. "I'm not sure I'll be able to go" she told them "I was diagnosed with cancer this week and I may have to start chemotherapy, in which case I don't think I would have the strength to go". They were kind about the situation, telling her that it would be fine, that she woud receive the fullest of refunds possible, just to let them know. I guess the same thing had happened only weeks before -- a woman being diagnosed with breast cancer just befre a trip -- they told my mother this.
In any case, she didn't have to start chemo. She went on the trip. Even though she had just gone through the most emotionally draining week of her life and received the most horrid words that most of us could even imagine -- "it's cancer" -- she went to Toronto and didn't let it spoil any of her fun. The pictures that she brought back all had her smiling. The things she had to say were about how wonderful a time she had -- not about the thing that was growing inside of her. She was even herself enough to remember a running joke I had about wanting to go to Canada to get some Cuban cigars and brought one back for me. It was as if she had never received the news. It was as if she had forgotten. It seemed that way, even though I know that it was still right there on top of her mind. She had that sort of resiliency, she was able to forge ahead against even the greatest current. She loved life, and she wasn't about to let a gun to her head stop her from continuing to do so.
It's one of my mother's traits that I wish I had. I do to some extent, but not nearly as fiercely as she did. That week had me give a presentation the day after her biopsy results came in. I hadn't prepared too much for it, having panned on doing it the night before I had to make it. The night of the news. In between tears and bawling fits, I read my Dewey and prepared my notes for the next day. I plowed through it and got everything together. The next day, in class, I was lackluster, the professor saying tht my presentation "led the horse to water, but didn't let him drink". I could have used my mom's news as an excuse, but I wasn't going to. As horrible a night it was, I wasn't about to let others give me pity.
I guess in that sense, I am somewhat like my mother. That's a good thing. I loved my mom dearly and at times like this I really, really miss her. It's good to know that she is still alive though, or at least a little bit, in me.
Edit -- for another mom story, read "blue".
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