The holidays came and went. Though still focused on rebuilding our relationship, things were starting to finally feel somewhat normal. I had my cerclage in place now, and had been put on light duty at work. My mom had been sick with reoccurring bouts of pneumonia. She and I had a very close, yet strained relationship. We fought all the time, yet when the chips were down we knew we could always count on each other.
After years of being alone, she had recently gotten into a relationship I didn't approve of. He was much younger then her, and had a few habits I didn't care for which led to him finding himself in jail from time to time. I thought she was having a mid life crisis and though she lived next door, stopped visiting as much.
My grandparents had come in to town for a visit and were staying with her. She didn't drive, so she was normally entirely dependent on me for groceries, doctor visits, etc. With the worries about my pregnancy and the strain of the recent issues that had been going on in my own life, I was relieved to have the break.
We were at work one day, and they called to let me know she had worsened and had been admitted to the hospital. They needed us to get there right away. We immediately left to head that way. It just so happened that this was her 54th birthday. We got there and everyone was crying. I was confused and wondered what they weren't saying. She then proceeded to tell me that the doctor had come in holding her x-rays and said, "Happy birthday, Ms. Mcgomery, you have Cancer."
I started crying. She'd started when she was only 10 years old and had been a heavy smoker my entire life. We both apologized to each other and our fight now seemed so stupid. I had so many questions, but no one had any answers yet. It was like a bad dream that I just couldn't wake up from.
Batteling reoccurring pneumonia for months, her regular doctors couldn't explain how the tumor had not been found before reaching the size of a grapefruit. Appointments were made with specialists and more tests had to be run to determine what the best treatment plan would be. Despite some talk of chemo and radiation being promising, nothing had been determined for sure, except that she was very sick and her life could be in danger.
I cried and prayed a lot that night. He held me and tried to comfort me. I remember asking him if he thought she was going to die. "No," he said. "I'm sure she's going to be okay." "Me too", I said. "She's a fighter." I started telling him stories about things she had been through and memories I had as a child. I was scared. Despite our issues, I was an only child, and loved my mother very much. I needed her to be okay. Life had not been easy as a kid, but she was always right there. I had taken for granted she always would be.
Being a single mom, my mother was very hands on in helping me raise my kids. I couldn't have survived without her. How was I going to tell them about this? I didn't know how much more I could handle. Surely things were bound to start looking up now. Little did I know, the worst was yet to come.
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