They just called her back for her eighth radiation treatment. She’s only got two more to go after this. And that’s a good thing. Because she’s tired. And it’s starting to really hurt. Like physically, hurt. Not to mention the mental toll it’s taking.
But she’s brave. Even if she doesn’t think so. I see it.
She’s my hero, my mom.
In January (maybe February?) she was diagnosed with stage 1 breast cancer.
I haven’t really talked about it much. Not even mentioned it. Not here. Not on Facebook. Barely in conversation. Because how do you just casually mention that your mom has (had?) cancer?
So it’s just not something I’ve talked about outside of my close circle of friends and my small group. Mainly in the form of prayer requests.
Maybe because I was in denial. Yeah, probably because I was in denial. I just didn’t want to deal with it. Or think about it. But it’s still there. This thing.
The good news is, they caught it early. Real early.
The bad news is, she still has to go through all the junk.
She didn’t even feel it. They found it on a routine mammogram. They confirmed it a few days later from a biopsy. Then, after she came home from my aunt’s funeral (her beloved sister-in-law died in the middle of all this diagnostic mess, talk about double suck) they took the lump out surgically with a lumpectomy.
Now, a few weeks later, she’s being treated with radiation therapy, twice a day for five days. And that’s where I am right now. She’s being pelted with lasers, and I’m sitting out in the lobby kicked back with my feet up, typing away on her laptop.
And that just doesn’t seem fair.
She’s one of the lucky ones. We know that.
But it still sucks. And I’m not going to pretend otherwise.
Cancer just sucks.
And that’s all there is to it.