Cancer has been in my life since I was a little kid. A disease my kids associate with old people never really seemed to hit those who were elderly around me and most of the time, the outcome was not good.
One of my best friends died of leukemia when we were still in elementary school. She got to meet David Hasselhoff before she died and brought me home a personalized autographed picture of The Hoff sitting on KITT.
A couple of my grandparents had cancer. I didn’t see my great-grandma in her final years because my grandma, her daughter, told me that she wanted me to remember her as I did and not how she was with most of her nose gone.
My sister battles with skin cancer. Every mole is suspect and she’d love to have them all removed except we are a moley people and she has hundreds of them.
One of my good friends from college died of thyroid cancer. It hit me like a ton of bricks because I wasn’t in the loop of her life and didn’t know she had wanted to stop fighting the fight that never seemed to end. Her death brought a whole new panic when my thyroid was an asshole after Ethan died. I didn’t hesitate to have it cut out of my neck for one second. I thought it was anxiety that was making me feel like I was choking to death. It turned out it was my thyroid closing in on me with it’s hot nodules of precancerous crud.
Now, we sit in limbo with cancer looming over our heads. This time it’s my mom. She had her second colonoscopy this year last week. The first one earlier this year showed some questionable polyps and her doctor recommended another scan in 6 months.
The thing doctors do that irks me is that whole talking to you about important information when you’re still groggy from sedation. My mom couldn’t remember much of what he had said but knew cancer and precancerous were mentioned. So, we waited for the pathology report and a phone call saying everything was OK and to come back in x years. Instead, she got a phone call asking her to come in to see her doctor.
That’s not good, right? I mean, I am trying really hard not to read into this all. I am a worrier by nature and so I am having actual conversations in my head telling myself to chill the hell out until she knows for sure.
My mom, on the other hand, doesn’t let her cards show. You have to know what cues to look for. I knew she was nervous before she even had the colonoscopy because she was bringing up the deed to our new house.
You see, we tore my mom’s old house down and built a new, bigger, house in it’s place. In return she’d get her own apartment above the garage and someone to look after her. She was convinced we’d put her in a home if this wasn’t done – something she did with her own mother and I think she regrets to this day. The garage and apartment aren’t done, so she’s got her own bedroom downstairs with the kids. (which she just loves – sarcasm, people!)
We haven’t switched the deed over into my name yet and I really wasn’t in any hurry to do it for property tax reasons (we have another house still in our names). My mom wants me to hurry my ass up and get it done.
I’d like to live in the land of denial where moms don’t die or get sick. same with dads, siblings, kids, cats and awesome dogs. (not the unawesome ones, sorry I am heartless)
Speaking of awesome – and on a completely wacky tangent – Abby, my 5 year old, thinks that it’s better to be pretty and gorgeous than it is to be awesome. She’s convinced that girls cannot be awesome. I am convinced Kindergarten has rotted her brain.
