I’m probably breaking some blogger rule by posting an unrelated article during a series. Fire me.
Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. Actually, by the time I post this, it may already be Mother’s Day. This will be the second Mother’s Day that has been, well, different. A few days after Mother’s Day 2010, my mom was diagnosed with Stage 4 Breast Cancer. A very aggressive type of breast cancer. It was in her breasts, spine, liver, lungs, lymph, bones, and brain. That first year was rough, but I guess I had in mind that the treatments would fix her quickly. Last year around Mother’s Day, we found out her brain cancer was active and the doctor gave her a maximum of 4-6 months to live. In August, she had a heart attack and moved back in with us. In October, she moved to a nursing home. A year later, she’s still alive, but different. You see, the brain cancer isn’t growing as much as they thought, but the brain radiation did a lot of damage. At her worst, she could not move her arms or legs or talk. With therapy, she’s started moving her legs around in bed. Sometimes she’ll move her arms, usually if she’s in pain.
She’s not a vegetable, though. I told her about my hubby’s mom’s trouble with cancer, and she cried. While the nurse was changing her brief (grown-up diaper), I asked her if that was the worst part of her day, and she nodded. She reacts with facial expressions or movements. I guess she’s kind of trapped in her body.
I miss my mom. I miss talking to her. I miss texting her. The kids miss the insane amounts of candy she gave them. I don’t miss that.
Don’t get me wrong. My mom wasn’t a saint in her healthy life. She made plenty of mistakes. We all do. But no matter how bad it can get, we all need our moms. I wish she could still hug me or talk to me. I wish she could have gone to the kids’ gymnastics meets.
Some days she squeezes my hand and won’t let go. I think she misses these things too.