Sept. 15, 2013
Chemotherapy?? I sat motionless, staring at the gaudily bright patterned chair to my
right. Occasionally I would shift my gaze to the glass coffee table in front of me, strewn
with magazines and informative pamphlets. I could feel the frosty December chill
seeping in through the window behind me. But I didn’t shiver, I couldn’t. I couldn’t move
any part of my body. It felt as though someone had just placed a thousand pound blanket
over me, and I was rooted to the spot. My mind was like a skydiver whose parachute
failed to open, and was freefalling to the ground. I tried to force myself to listen as the
doctor spoke. But my fragmented mind could only latch on to occasional words or
phrases. “The hysterectomy might not have gotten it all”, “Pathology reports show cancer
cells outside of the uterus”, “Stage 3, most likely”, and the dreaded “Chemotherapy”. I
glanced over to my mom. She seemed calm and composed. I wondered if her mind was
reeling as badly as mine. The doctor continued talking, it was almost like listening to a
foreign language. No matter how hard I tried to understand and comprehend his words,
they were just not making any sense to me. Just fifteen minutes before my Mom and I
had been laughing and joking. Planning dinner and festivities for the upcoming holiday.
Completely sure the doctor was going to tell us she was 100% cancer free.
Congratulations, and enjoy your holidays. How dare he come in here with this horrible
news. Threatening to send me into an abyss of blackness and denial. How dare he! This
was NOT how this was supposed to go.
Thirty minutes later we were just beginning the long drive home and my mind was
still spinning. Stuck in a strange loop of “ I can’t believe that just happened“,” I can’t
lose my mom“, “Oh my god, what do I say to her” and then back to “I...