Cancer and a year

It's been over a year since my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. And about a year ago right now she was in the midst of her chemo sessions. I will never forget those 12 weeks for how nerve-wracking they were. It's hard to look back on it even now actually.

March 5, 2008 was a Wednesday. That was also the day my mom's hair fell out. She had mentioned for a few days how there were strands here and there, and in an attempt to make it as long as possible without having to wear a wig she didn't wash her hair for a couple days. That night, I was trying to get some stuff ready for a gallery show, and trying to come up with ideas for a website. I remember my mom saying she was going to take a shower, and a little while later I noticed my aunt and sister running around back and forth, talking with my mom in the bathroom.

I didn't think too much of it at first because I was wrapped in my own shit. But after a little bit, I headed upstairs to see what was going on. The three of them were standing in the bathroom looking in the mirror. My mom was wearing a wig, which wasn't an uncommon sight at that point. She had been trying some of them on, wearing them a little to try and get used to the idea.

After poking my head in the door, my aunt told my mom to take the wig off so we could all get used to "it" and so it wouldn't be shocking. I cannot describe the feeling the slammed into my gut when she pulled the wig off.

There stood my mother. The strongest member of our family. The one who's always the peacemaker. The one who bends over backwards for all of us and often times does. Her scalp was mostly white except for where strands of hair still stood together in clumps.

I can't tell you what my reaction was on the outside. I tried hard to be stoic though inside I felt anything but. I think we tried to joke about it, and she didn't falter one bit. She didn't let us see her cry. In fact, while she didn't necessarily smile, she reminded more of a shy little girl on the first day of school than someone who was sick. In the weeks to come, I'd revisit that image in my mind no matter how hard I tried to avoid it. I'd even come to miss it when I'd find her falling asleep in bed exhausted, pale skin tight on her head, wisps of hair in haphazard places. It scared the shit out of me and it still does.

After my mom's hair fell out, after she pulled that wig off, after we told her it was okay and she had "a cute little head," I did one of the toughest things I've ever had to do. I shaved my mom's head. And while I shaved and we evened out what was left of her hair, she took everything in stride. Like she always does.

A year later my mom is cancer free.

I don't really know why I felt the need to write this post. I guess it's been on my mind a bit, and I've found it harder to talk about now than I did then. I'm so thankful that things turned out okay. I'm amazed at the strength my family as a whole exhibited. I'm indebted to the friends who allowed me to vent the anger and frustration and sadness and fear and who whisked me away for a bit when things were just a bit too overwhelming.

And I'm pretty convinced that my mom can handle anything. (She rocks.)