Originally written August 2008.
It is 1977, I am 11 years old and my mother is diagnosed with lung 
cancer. My parents tell me that my mother has something called tumors on
 her lungs and they show me the X-ray of where they are. An X-ray. A 
picture of what looks like nothing is about to change my families life 
forever. My mother is told that she has 3 months. I am not sure if I am 
told of the timeline. She lasts 8 months. 8 LOOOOONG months of coughing,
 comas, cancer, courage, clots, and caring.
I am there when my mother’s hair falls out from chemo. I am lying on 
my belly watching an old Montgomery Ward black and white TV at the foot 
of her bed. She is sitting up by the pillows. I see her out of the 
corner of my eye as she pulls hair out of her head. She is holding a few
 bunches in her hand. She asks me to go downstairs and get her a garbage
 bag. I head down annoyed that I have to leave the TV.I am not sure what
 I am watching.
Grabbing a paper bag from Grand Union from under the sink I head back
 upstairs and hand it to her. We don’t say anything. I see her crying in
 my peripheral vision as she takes hair from head and places it in the 
bag. I am very aware of what she is doing and I think I sort of know in a
 way but I am 11 and confused.
It is one of the most profound moments of my life and yet I was like a
 fly on the wall just watching it, not reacting, not speaking just 
trying to avoid.
 
Awful---so sorry you and your mom had to go through that.
ReplyDeleteSo sorry Maria. I was crying reading this. Reading this just tells me you were brave. Sorry you had to go through that.
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