I remember it clearly, I had suspected it for weeks. I remember standing at the top of my staircase trying to listen in on my parents’ conversation. I knew they heard me because the second the topic of conversation got serious my dad turned up the radio. My mom was constantly coming home from work late, and from time to time I’d hear her break down to my dad. I’m not sure why the first thought in my head was “cancer,” but I think at that age I constantly just thought the worst. I told a few friends what I was thinking and they told me I was nuts, but I just couldn't shake the feeling.
It was a sunny day and I had just rearranged my room it to the most perfect arrangement. I was laying in my newly positioned bed watching TV when there was a knock at my bedroom door. I’ll never forget that knock, it still echoes in my mind. It was strange for anyone in my family not to just barge into my room, so I knew something out of the ordinary was coming. I told whoever was knocking to come in and my mom opened it. She asked if we could talk and I sat up to make room for her on my bed.
I remember the look, I remember the words, I remember her crying. She said frankly, “I’ve been to the doctor and had a few tests and I’ve been diagnosed with breast cancer.” The rest is sort of a blur, I remember nodding my head and saying, “okay,” giving her a hug and her leaving my room and shutting my door on the way out, it echoed again.
Then I was left alone to my thoughts. I’m not sure if I cried or felt anything at all, but I do remember crying at night once in awhile. I was young, and I was scared. I didn't want to lose my mom. I thought about what life would be like without her, and I just knew I didn't want that. She started going through treatments and I think that was harder than hearing the initial news. She grew weak, she grew tired, her sincere happiness was almost always gone. It was like having a new mom, she was constantly putting on a strong face and not showing what was really going on behind her smile.
I knew she was in pain and it killed me; her skin physically hurt, she underwent serious surgeries to remove the cancer, and she went through chemotherapy and lost all of her beautiful curls. I remember one time I came home to my sister sobbing, I immediately asked what happened and found out my mom had had trouble breathing that day. I sat there watching my sister, who is one of the toughest people I know, completely break down from fear, and I just couldn't do anything. I couldn't cry, I couldn't laugh, I was just numb. Family came over and reassured us that everything would be okay, and as scared as I was, somewhere inside me found the hope and faith to believe in them.
I remember the parties we had for her final rounds of treatment, the walks we would do and the money we would raise in honor of her battle. I’m proud and happy to say that my mother is a survivor and kicked cancer’s ass. She took the challenge head on and she came out a warrior. Every year around Mother’s Day I think of that scary time in my life and about how strong my mother is, and how fortunate I really am. Some people aren't as lucky and they lose loved ones to cancer’s wrath. But to me, everyone who has taken on any type of cancer, win or lose, are all warriors and always will be.
