English
125
Instructor: Ms.
Young-Manning
Love You Through It
One day in July of 2008 when my sister and I got home from school, my mom told us that she had something to tell us. I was seventeen at the time, Jaimie was eighteen, and Chris was fifteen. We asked her what it was about, but she said that she wanted to wait till our brother Chris got home. A few hours passed, and he still wasn’t home, so we got in the car to look for him. We found Chris at the skate park and honked for him to come to the car. As he approached us, my mom rolled down the window. She said, “Christopher, get in. I have something to tell you three.”
“I’ll be home later; you can tell me then.”
“No, I have to tell you now, and I want you three together at home,” Mom said.
Chris relented and said, “Okay,” and got in the car.
On the way home I was thinking, “What could be so important that she needed the three of us together? When we got home, we all stayed in the car, and I asked, “Mom, what is it that you have to tell us?”
She turned around to look at us and said, “I have breast cancer.” Although breast cancer runs in my family, because my grandma passed away from it well before I was born, I was still shocked by the news. Aunt Jane had had cancer too, but the doctor had caught it just in time. But my mom? No Way! There must have been a mistake. The tests had to have been wrong. My mom being diagnosed with cancer made our relationship stronger from that day on.
The following day, my Aunt Jane picked up my sister Jaimie, my brother Chris, and me from school. She took us to the hospital instead of driving us home. We were sitting impatiently in the waiting room. A few family members were already there waiting. A nurse walked over to us and said, “Okay, she’s ready to see you guys before she has the surgery.” At first I didn’t want to go see her because I was scared. All I kept thinking was “What if she doesn’t make it?” All the times we fought were so stupid and about items so little I couldn’t even remember what they were about.
After a few of her sisters went to see her, it was our turn. They only let us go two at a time, so I went with Jaimie. I kept telling myself, “Don’t cry, don’t cry!” as we walked towards where she was, sitting there with a hairnet over her head. She’s smiling, happy to see us, and I knew she was pretending. She was just as scared as we were. We talked for a little while, gave hugs, and she told us she loved us.
It felt like we were waiting forever until the doctor finally came out. He said, “The surgery went great. You guys can go see her now if you’d like.” Again, my aunts went first. When our turn came I thought, “The first time was easy, so should this one.”
We walked down a different hall, and this time we turned left. I saw her lying down, not very alert. When we walked up to her, she started mumbling stuff. I couldn’t quite make out the words, so I knew she was still groggy from the medication. I was at the foot of the bed when I asked her how she was. Then she started saying, “Don’t let them take my boob.”
In that instant, my heart ached, and my eyes watered. I said, “It’s okay, Mom. It’s okay. They didn’t take it!”
Again, she said, “Please don’t let them take my boob.” I couldn’t take seeing her like that any longer; it was too much to handle. I walked out of the room crying.
A few days later, she came home. My mom told me that they just went in to remove the lymph nodes in her right breast because it was precancerous. Then not that long after, she had another doctor appointment. That appointment was just a follow up to make sure the cancer was gone.
We found out after her appointment that they didn’t catch all the cancer. My mom had to have surgery again. “Again! How did this happen? How did they not catch it all the first time? Why is this happening? She doesn’t deserve this—she’s not a bad person!” All these unanswered questions were running through my mind. Back to the lobby where all we do is wait. Good news or bad news, which is it going to be today?
I must have blocked out the memory because I can’t remember exactly what happened that day. What I do remember was hearing, “They had to remove her right breast.” All I could think was that was one of her biggest fears, but at least I still have my mom.
After a few months passed, it was still hard to get over the fact that my mom only has one boob. You could tell that she didn’t feel very comfortable or confident anymore. I remember this one day; I was standing in the doorway to her room. She was in her pajamas, talking to me. She dropped the phone and bent down to pick it up, and as she bent down, the front of her pajamas opened a little. That’s when I saw her scar for the first time. She looked up, saw the look on my face, and quickly covered herself. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even realize I had a look on my face until I saw hers. My face wasn’t a look of disgust. It was a look of shock, pain, and hurt because she had to go through all of that pain. I could only imagine what she was feeling. The next day she asked if I wanted to see her scar. I said, “No, that’s okay, Mom.” I didn’t want to see it because it makes me sad, but I didn’t want her to think that she was in this alone either.
During this time, I was listening to the radio when I heard this song called “ I’m Gonna Love You Through It” by Martina McBride. Listening to the words reminded me a lot of what my mom was going through. She didn’t have my dad to help her get through this, but she had us, and it was at that moment I decided to get a tattoo for her. Under my right boob, the one that she lost, it says” ‘I’m Gonna Love You Through It” with her initials FFJ, and a breast cancer ribbon.
Since that day, I told myself that even though we don’t always get along, I am going to be there for her. I realized that at any point in my life my mom could be gone from it forever. It never occurred to me how pointless our arguments were until the point I realized this is the day I could lose my mom. I gained a better relationship with her since the day we found out she had cancer. It hasn’t been perfect, but it’s a lot better than it used to be. She’s had to have a few different surgeries since then. Thankfully, none involved cancer, but I have been there for her, taking her to her doctor appointments and taking care of her after the surgeries. This hasn’t been easy because I still get emotional when I see her all groggy from the medication, but I made a promise to myself that she wouldn’t have to go through it alone. In the end I’m just thankful that I still have my mom here with me.