The Cancer is Back

Essay 16

December 9, 2024

A few weeks ago, my mom told me that her doctor found a lump in her breast.  Several years back, she had breast cancer that was caught very early.  After a few rounds of radiation treatment, she was given the all-clear, and we all felt fortunate that everything turned out so well.  My mom sounded nervous when she told me about the lump recently, and I tried to assure her to be positive until we knew more.  She had a biopsy scheduled which would confirm or deny our fears.

In the meantime, while we waited for her appointment, I traveled home for Thanksgiving for the first time in several years.  My mom had been begging me to come for the holidays since summer, and something told me I should.  The night before Thanksgiving, as we were in the kitchen getting food prepared for the next day, my mother’s lovely friend stopped over to visit and to meet me.  Toward the end of the conversation, her friend referenced, “with everything going on with you”, and my mom’s face slowly dropped.  We all knew what she was talking about, but none of us wanted to say the words.  I had been trying my entire visit to distract my mom from thinking about her looming biopsy.  My mom’s face looked worried and serious.  I told her friend that I was glad she had so many good friends around who cared about her and checked on her.

On Thanksgiving morning, as I was showering, I received an unexpected download from my guides.  “She’s going to have a long road ahead.”  I froze in the shower for a second.  Then, I tried to shove it aside as if I didn’t hear what I heard.  That couldn’t be right.  This was one time I hoped my abilities were inaccurate.  I convinced myself that it was just my own thoughts and not my guides.  I wanted to believe that, even just for today.

This was the first year since we’ve been married that my wife and I spent Thanksgiving with my family.  Normally, we spend it with her family who is Mexican, and Thanksgiving really centers around mole that her mother makes.  I was interested to watch my wife experience her first traditional American Thanksgiving and to understand the Thanksgivings I had as a child.  As I got dressed, I could hear my wife and my mom talking together in the kitchen, and I felt grateful that they both liked each other and enjoyed one another so much.

My mom refused to let us cook anything that day, as usual.  We kept her company in the kitchen and started pouring wine around noon.  “Alexa, play the Rolling Stones,” my mom said happily.  She opened the window to let the heat from the kitchen out.  “Ooo, I like this one,” she said as she started to dance with a huge smile on her face.  I took a video of her to remember the moment, because it’s exactly how I think of my mom.  I laughed as I thought, now this is Thanksgiving.  Music playing, windows open, and wine flowing.  Those were my favorite Thanksgivings over the years with my mom.

My favorite thing about my mom is that she can make anything fun.  A trip to the grocery store, a car ride, cleaning the house.  She loves music, and she loves to dance.  It’s almost like she can’t help herself.  I can’t even count the number of stores she danced in when I was a kid because she heard a good song come on over the speaker.  I always joke that my mom is way more fun than me.  She’s a social butterfly, and I didn’t get any of those genes from her.  At 72 years old, she still lives to enjoy every moment and looks for the fun in life.  I truly admire that about her.

My mom called me this evening to give me the update from her biopsy last week.  “It is cancer. They said it’s aggressive.”  She went over all the details, and then she admitted that she’s angry, “I just don’t want to have to keep telling this story to everyone.”  And for me?  I’m scared.  Really scared.  I’m worried about the long road ahead and what that will look like.  I wish I could do this for her.  I wish I could make it go away for her.  My mom has spent her entire life caring for everyone else, worrying about everyone else, and it just isn’t fair.

We will take this one step at a time, and I will be there for her in every way that I can.  And I vow to slow down more, to cherish each moment and the people around me, and maybe to dance a little more in the kitchen.

Love,

Phoenix Rising