This is the last time I am going to talk publicly---well publicly online (although mostly in real life as well)--about my mom being diagnosed with cancer. Not only is that not my battle to share but, selfishly, I want some place where I can pretend this is not the most fucking unfair and stupid and pointless and did I mention unfair thing to happen to anyone, especially my mom. Not just because she is my mom, but because she is the most genuinely nice person I've ever known. When they say so and so doesn't have a mean bone in their body or a mean thought in their head? Usually so and so does, even if it is a little. Not my mom. She's not nice because it pays to be nice, she's nice because I don't think she knows how to--or she can--be any other way.
This was supposed the best summer in a long time for all of us. Fucking funny, fate. I am just fucking laughing my head off over how we all thought we'd get to ,I don't know, maybe all enjoy things for once. Anxiety over Houdini's feeding and digestive issues at an all time low. Marriages going okay for my sister and I, maybe not great, but okay and getting back on track respectively. Then there was the mini family reunion with my mom's brother, and her sister and niece and grand-nephew, in July. There were plans for all sorts of day trips and outings . My parents were looking forward to having both grandkids staying overnight together, for the first time.
Now, of course, none of that, none of the things my mom was looking forward to so much, especially after my grandmother's passing away this past December, which was so, so hard for her, is going to happen. Because of some fucking disease that no one still knows how to prevent or why it happens.
Ever since the definite final results of all the scans and biopsies came in this afternoon and my sister--my poor sister who sat there and read the scans and slides and specimens for herself, can you imagine what that is like, to look at your own mother's cancerous cells?--called me to let me know, I've either cried hard, either for an hour at a time or in short spurts.
Tomorrow we go to the hospital and tomorrow we meet with the oncologist and the surgeon and the radiologist and the nutritionist, and figure out the schedule and the times of the cycles, and then go look at an extended stay suite near the hospital so she is not traveling back and forth during her first 3 weeks of aggressive treatment and then...I don't know that is as far as I can think, but tomorrow is the day to be efficient and clear minded and be mature and optimistic. And not use the word fuck. At least, not out loud.
This weekend we are doing everything and anything she wants to do and Houdini and Lemel and I are going to spend as much time with them (mostly I want to make sure Houdini gets to spend a lot of time with her, because I have no idea what the next 4-6 weeks are going to be like for her). She is going to have anything she wants, if I can fucking help it.
But between now and tomorrow? Tonight? I am going to spend all my energy being ferociously and furiously angry and saying fuck off to any and all mighty gods who thought this was the way to reward a person who has always put others first. Way to go fuckers, I guess you finally got her to focus on herself.
