It’s an odd experience when you look back and try to figure
out your feelings were when so much time has passed and the memories from that
time are a bit fuzzy. I know I was
unfailingly optimistic. When she first
found the lump and after she was diagnosed, I was constantly optimistic about things. Maybe it wasn’t cancer, at least you found
it early. I remember anger as
well. When she went for her mammogram
and didn’t tell us before hand, I remember getting angry with her that she kept
us out of the loop. When an aunt made a
comment to me just after her diagnosis and surgery, and when another aunt
simply asked her how she was doing at a family event, I remember snapping at
them. I don’t ever remember really
feeling afraid, I was so convinced that everything would be OK, I refused to
take off those rose-tinted glasses, that the fear never really touched me, oh,
don’t get me wrong, it was there, but I pushed it down, wouldn’t let it take
over for me.
I asked my mom and we spoke a bit about what she was
thinking. I won’t get into her feelings
fully, they are hers after all, but I remember speaking of one instance that I
briefly mentioned above. We had gone to
a BBQ at a family member’s house and because of the treatments my mom wasn’t
feeling well. She had been sitting in
the living room just off the kitchen and I walked in to find her crying and one
or more of my aunts trying to comfort her.
I immediately snapped asking them what they had said. I remember trying to keep her from crying,
to keep her spirits up, so it annoyed me that someone had upset her. When I mentioned it to her recently, she
told me that she was so used to helping out, and with her feeling so weak she
had to stay out of the way, that she was feeling a little sorry for herself, so
when an aunt asked her how she was doing, it set her off.
I learned that she tried to hide how she was feeling from us, both physically (though that was harder to hide) and emotionally. I’m glad I got an opportunity to speak to her about what we were each feeling during that time, though I wish I had thought to speak to her sooner, maybe things might have been different if we had spoken during that time, or maybe, given how we each handle something that difficult, we did exactly what we needed to do and it worked out perfectly.
It’s nice to know that we can talk about it now, or anything else we may have on our minds. I’ve heard a lot of people say that their mom’s are their best friends, I can understand why! We talk every day, even about trivial stuff, I don’t feel right until we’ve spoken with each other.
Love you mom!
