My closest companion is a warrior. And when I say best friend, I’m not referring to my college roommate (who is fantastic, by the way) or my partner (who is a very close second). The friend I cherish most is my mom—the woman who gave me life and helped shape mine; the one who has been my steadfast supporter, my angel, my foundation, and sometimes, my lifesaver.
But everything shifted on November 13th. I can still recall that chilly day in the second-floor hospital waiting area, where I was a bundle of nerves during the two-hour surgery, unable to concentrate on anything. I can’t shake the memory of the surgeon exiting the operating room and leading me to a small, cold room. There, like many who had sat in those chairs before me, I heard the words that will forever haunt me: “Massive disease, cancer has spread. We needed to remove much more than we anticipated. Chemotherapy will be necessary.” Those words whirled around me like a storm, filling me with dread at the very thought of losing my mother. The weight of this harrowing reality felt like a serpent constricting my throat, making each breath increasingly difficult. I can still picture myself breaking down in the hospital restroom, crouching low and weeping, pleading with God to protect her.
The following days and weeks stretched on eternally. What was supposed to be a seven-day hospital stay turned into weeks of uncertainty. Complications arose, insurance battles ensued, medications piled up, and I found myself navigating snowy ambulance rides to different hospitals, all while managing ongoing follow-up care.
Nothing prepares you for adulthood quite like caring for a sick parent—not college graduation, landing your first real job, or even the joy of having a child. When you become a caretaker for a seriously ill parent, even one as strong as mine, it awakens a sobering understanding of life that you can’t prepare for. There were days I would collapse onto my bed, sobbing harder than I thought possible, praying and begging for her recovery.
Before my mother’s diagnosis, my partner and I were eagerly planning to move in together. My mom and I were busy discussing how to decorate our new space, sharing stories about my son’s first days in kindergarten, his teachers, and his upcoming Superman-themed birthday party. Our conversations flowed freely, just as they had for years. But all of that was abruptly interrupted by cancer, leading to a lengthy hospital stay and her ongoing recovery.
During those harrowing weeks post-diagnosis, I was by her side through every step, speaking with her nurses and doctors so frequently they began to memorize my cell number. Yet, I yearned deeply for our old life—those simple chats, our nightly calls, our daily check-ins. Each November night, as I climbed into bed, a wave of profound loneliness would crash over me. This longing was not merely for the conversations we used to have; it was a deeper ache for all the days before November 13th, when life was still manageable, and my mother wasn’t suffering. I wished to return to November 12th, when everything felt right, before the upheaval began.
Despite my mother’s remarkable strength and her gradual recovery, we all understand the constant fear that cancer brings. We must continue to fight each day, and I will always be her rock, her advocate, and whatever else she needs. My mom has always believed in the resilience of the human spirit, finding beauty even amidst life’s challenges—a lesson I aim to carry with me daily.
Sometimes, when the worry feels overwhelming, I close my eyes and envision those sunlit summer days that will return. Days when we can sit outside at her home, enjoy brunch at her restaurant, watch my son play in her backyard, and discuss things like wedding plans or expanding the family. Even after this tough year, we will once again appreciate the beautiful possibilities life holds.
Until that joyful day arrives, I find myself missing November 12th.
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Summary:
This heartfelt reflection emphasizes the profound impact of a cancer diagnosis on the relationship between a mother and daughter. The author reminisces about the days before the diagnosis, capturing the emotional turmoil and challenges that arose afterward. Through the narrative, the enduring bond between them shines, along with the hope for brighter days ahead.