Mother's Day

Almost one year ago (on Monday to be exact), my life changed drastically and for forever.

In July, after I'd been diagnosed and just before my surgery to insert the port-a-cath, my parents were at the hospital with me for some pre-op stuff. Mom was taking things hard that day, and as we walked back to the car, she said she felt like it was "all her fault."

Well, Mom it is all your fault. Because you wanted to go to the zoo on Mother's Day last year, I had to get up early on a Sunday morning and get dressed and ready to go. And because it was going to be kind of a hot day, after I took my shower I decided to put some powder on so things didn't get all hot and sweaty and uncomfortable. And so it's all your fault I found something that wasn't supposed to be there.

It's all your fault I didn't just collapse into a mental heap during my treatment. Like the week after my first chemo, when even though I felt fine, I couldn't go to work, or work in the yard or really do much of anything because my white blood cell count was almost nothing. That third day we got the call the count had dropped again, I hit probably the deepest depths of despair I've ever been too, but you were there to rub my head (I still had hair at that point) and lend me a shoulder to cry on.

It's at least partly your fault I didn't experience the horrible side effects a lot of people have during chemo. You made sure I took my meds on time and got them refilled. You made sure I knew when all my appointments were and what the doctors said.

It's your fault I paid the bills on time and walked the dog when I would have rather lay in bed feeling sorry for myself.

It's your fault, Mom, that I found this thing before it was too late, and was able to get rid of it.

Thank you, Mom. I love you. Happy Mother's Day.