Fair warning: this is going to be a lengthy blog post. A lot has been going on lately, and the time has come to share. When I started this blog, I vowed that I wasn't going to hold anything back. From crafts, to thoughts and feelings...from my faith to current things I love...I'm open to sharing anything that is on my mind and I feel worthy of sharing.
This is worthy of sharing. Finally.
On March 20 of this year, my mom discovered a lump in her left breast while doing a self-exam (ladies, start doing this NOW). After going to the doctor, many tests and calls later, on April 10, 2012, the doctors confirmed what we had been praying they wouldn't: my mom has breast cancer. Many tests later...on May 4, my mother had a single, simple mastectomy.
Words cannot describe the mixed emotions that come with finding out one of your loved ones has been diagnosed with cancer, and is undergoing a major surgery. Fear, anger, sadness, worried, hope, trust, ultimate love, and unfailing faith.
I've never known anyone personally that had breast cancer. I know people that know someone in their family that had/have breast cancer - but never anyone that I was directly linked to. So the first time, it's my mom. The amazingly wonderful woman that gave me life. My best friend, my biggest fan and supporter, the reason that I am where I am in life. My mom.
Now, I'm not going to explain her whole journey and everything that she's been dealing with, because that's her show. And she has her own blog dedicated to chronicling her cancer journey. You can check it out at:
www.graceembraced.wordpress.com
My blog is mine. And I'm a new caregiver. So this is going to be from a caregiver's view. And with my mom's blessing, I'm going to share it with the internet. Here it goes...
When my mom first called me and told me she had found a lump, the first thing that came to mind was anger. For a couple of reasons. One, she didn't tell me for 4 days. I was pissed she held it from me for so long. We tell each other everything, and I talk to her 3x a day, every day. Why did she not tell me? Two, I live in Arizona. She lives in Illinois. I was pissed at the world for leading me out to AZ for a job, when now all I wanted was to be back in IL with my family, just hugging my momma.
As the days passed on, the anxiety grew. When are we getting answers? Couldn't the cancer be spreading as we sit here and wait for test results to be in? I was fortunate to go back home for Easter, the weekend before she had tests done that would confirm if it was Cancer or not. I felt her lump that weekend. I had to. I had to know what it felt like so that I knew what I should be concerned about with my own breasts, and so I knew what exactly was in my mom, hurting her. It definitely felt like something that should NOT be in a woman. I put on a smile for my mom, and told her how I was confident it was nothing, and that God would not allow us to go through something he didn't think we could handle. But on the inside, I could feel my heart sink down into my stomach. What if it wasn't just nothing? What if it was something? What if it was something that she caught too late? What if it was something that took my mom away from me? I'm not even 25. There is still so much in my life I need my mom for. These thoughts swirled through my head, but I kept that smile plastered on my face, and just cuddled up in bed with my mom to watch one of our fave movies, Martian Child. (go rent it. you'll love it.)
Later that week, when it was confirmed that it was, in fact, a cancerous tumor, I knew something inside me changed. My faith changed, my hope changed, my attitude towards life changed, my idea of my mom changed, my everything changed. I felt more committed - to a lot of things. Committed to trusting in God's plan, committed to calling my mom every single second I could just to hear her voice, committed to learning everything I possibly could about her type of breast cancer, treatments, my role as a caregiver, committed to giving support to my dad and my brother that are actually with my mom everyday.
24 days after being diagnosed with breast cancer, my mom had a mastectomy.
I will never be able to imagine the thoughts that went through my mothers head on that day, and these days that have followed. I can only understand that as a woman, it pains you to look in the mirror and see that your body is permanently different. You have lost a body part. Something that was once there, something that gives women power over men (yeah, I said it - you all know its true...), something that nourishes your children, something that makes you feel empowered - is gone.
It all has happened so fast. In just a month and a half, my mom has gone from being healthy, to having a serious life-threatening disease, and losing a breast. How does this happen? How do you live with something like this? Knowing that the person that means the most to you in life, has something wrong that you have no control over fixing? There is no way for me to take her pain away, no way for me to cure her, no way for me to give her a breast back.
The feelings are overwhelming sometimes. But I've found that the strength of our family unit is so much stronger than I ever thought they were. My brother is a rock. So steady and calm under all this stress. Just a constant reassuring presence that all will be okay. My dad is so in love with my mom. He doesn't care if she has 2 breasts or not. He doesn't care if she loses her hair when it comes time for chemo this summer. He just wants to love her every second of every day and relish in the fact that he married an amazingly strong woman. My mom IS strong. And brave. I am so proud of her and know that if I could be 1/4 of the person she is, then I will accomplish something in life.
Although she's strong, she still is mourning the loss of her breast. When I saw the scar this past weekend, I wasn't afraid or sad like I thought I would be. I was so happy, thrilled, and excited for her. You could visibly see the tumor in her breast before. It looked unhealthy and dangerous - and it was. But now it's gone. The scar is BEAUTIFUL. The scar is a perfect symbol of who my mom is: strong, brave, courageous, tough, trusting, tumor-free, a BADASS, and a GIRL. She is unbelievable. I am in awe with the woman my mom is. I have never been more proud of someone in my life.
She still has a long way to go. Some of her lymph nodes had cancerous tumors in them, so we are waiting (again) for more test results, but there will for sure be chemo this summer, and radiation next year after more medicine. But I know in my heart that all will be okay. Of course there is still that small little speck of a thought in the very back in my mind: "what if everything doesn't end up okay?" But I shove that tiny little thought deep into the dark corners of my mind and tell it to not come out, because it's not going to happen. My mom is a fighter. A fighter for all that is true and right in this world, and I know God has big plans for her down here on earth still.
So here goes this journey. I promise I'll try to keep things light-hearted on here, but I hope you understand if sometimes it isn't. I am already drafting my blog post for the day that the doctors declare my mom is CANCER-FREE! :)
Until then, this is for my mom - the toughest chick I know, and my best friend. I love you always and forever.
xoxo
