I stood there in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror. I had just finished my makeup and was straightening my hair. Then it hit me like an inescapable wave. Flashbacks. Quick flashes of memories from that September day. September 6, 2018.
We had just parked at the office and my phone rang. I instantly knew it was something bad. I told the kids to go ahead and go in with Kevin, so that I could take the call. I watched them walk away. I tried hard to focus and listen to my mom’s words on the other end of the line. It was hard to hear. My head couldn’t focus. My eyes followed the fallen leaves blowing across the parking lot.
I had almost made it to the curb in front of the office building when her words hit me like a punch in the gut. “Baby, your Momma has Cancer.” I swear my heart stopped for a second. A lump instantly appeared in my throat and I could barely make out the word “what?” Tears welled up in my eyes, quickly falling down my face.
I got all the information I could. I gave her the most heartfelt apology I ever have. She didn’t deserve this. I hated this for her. I wanted to take it away. To rewind. To change the outcome. To undo all that had been done. To take away her pain. To take all of this away. It was never supposed to happen like this.
We assured each other that she would get through this and we hesitantly hung up the phone. She was exhausted and needed to rest. My back slid against the wall and I fell into a ball on the ground outside our office building. I couldn’t process all that had just happened. My head was swirling. I cried uncontrollably. I wailed out in disbelief. How could this be happening?
My eyes refocused and I saw myself in the mirror. Tears in my eyes.
Here we are 6 months later. Countless appointments. Double mastectomy. Drain tubes. Lymph node removal. Chemo. Nausea. No immune system. Hair loss. No voice. Physical therapy. Upcoming radiation.
I wipe my tears. I gather my strength. My composure. I put a smile on my face and quietly go make breakfast for my kids.
