My Mother's Survival

I remember that day in November when I called my mother as I always did to catch up. The conversation was not like all the other ones though. My mother had gotten a mammogram done on a lump in her left breast and had found out that it was a tumor. I remained calm on the phone with my mother but after hanging up the phone, I completely broke. I sat in my room, 40 or so miles away from my mother, consumed by fear.

The idea of losing my mother to what could possibly be cancer was beyond anything I could handle. She was my rock – one of the few things that kept me grounded. She is my best friend, so I could only imagine what losing her would do to my psychological and physical well-being.

She had to give herself shots in the stomach twice a day for two weeks before going in for her biopsy. My mother has a heart condition that makes any minor surgery – like a biopsy – even riskier than it would be by itself. She has a mechanical valve in her heart making blood thinners mandatory for her to live.

It was two weeks on a Tuesday in December when my mother called me. I remember the moment with clarity.

I was sitting in Physical Science when my phone started to ring. I knew my mother was going to be calling with the results at some point that day, so I took the call. Hearing the emotions in my mother’s voice, I knew she had received the news I had dreaded the most.

My mother was diagnosed with cancer. She had breast cancer in her left breast. To make the situation more frightening, she had a rare type cancer. She had a phyllodes tumor which consists of 1% of all breast tumors. However, only ¼ of people with this specific type of tumors have one that is malignant.

This article is not about me. No one is more interesting to me than my mother and the story of her and I. It is about a daughter finding out her mother has breast cancer and realizing that her mother is one of the most important people in her life.

This year only helped the fear that I have felt my entire life when it comes to the possibility of losing my mother.

My mother raised eleven children, 8 of which were of not biologically hers. She has dealt with illness of her own, of her family, of her husband, and of her children.

My mother was the driving force behind the adoption of myself and four of my other siblings. I thank my mother (and of course my father as well) for the life that I have been able to live.

Biology and blood does not make a family, love and nurture does.

My mother is the woman who made me who I am. She taught me to be proud of myself, to stand up for myself.

My mother is a silly and happy personality that has been by my side through everything that I have been through.

Every scraped knee, every tear I shed, she has been there.

My mother has been through so much yet still never falters to allow me to see the world for the happiness it can possess.

My mother is 62 and should be struggling a lot more than she is. She has one kidney, a heart condition, smokes, had cancer, and has an immune system that is not able to fight off stuff on its own.

However, she is still alive.

She still makes sure to make sure I know I am loved. She is always there.

However, I know she will not always be there.