I have stared at this blinking cursor for what feels like an eternity. I’m not sure where to start or what to say, so I’ll just start typing and see where this ends.
Life is not fair.
I hate that saying. Of course life isn’t fair. Of course I know that. Life isn’t fair.
That phrase has ruminated through my skull for the last 24+ hours. I replay the moment Dr. Lopez pulled up the radiologist’s report of the pelvic scan my Mama had done yesterday and it said “consistent with metastasis” over and over and over again in my head. My sister made a sound, a gasp, I don’t know, and Mom and I sat there silent. I think I nodded. I think. Maybe.
This was the moment we feared the most. No, I don’t live in fear, but reality exists for a reason, and the possibility of this happening never left the back of my mind. But, it still feels very surreal. We stood in the lobby awaiting our respective turns in the bathroom and my sister said, “This doesn’t feel real” and I nodded.
“This is what we were afraid of this whole time. This news.” Andi looked at me and I looked at her and we were both completely blank.
Life is not fair.
We don’t have all the facts, a treatment plan, or a full scope of what’s happening, but I can tell you this from the jump – I am not ready to give up my Mama. I guess that’s pretty selfish since a lot of people reading this have given up a parent, but I’m nothing if not honest. I’m not trying to do any of this. Nobody ever is, huh? Yeah, I get it.
Watching a natural disaster unfold never seems entirely real because it isn’t you. You can hurt for folks, but you aren’t living their nightmare, so it’s not the same. I have wept for folks experiencing devastation and loss, I ache for them, I pray for them, but it was never me. I can remember hearing bleak diagnoses and prognoses for other people and feeling grief for them, but it still wasn’t me or mine. My day continued and my life had to move forward as normal.
At this moment, I am trapped inside a hurricane, frozen in my own questions and grief. I am so angry. Not for myself, believe it or not, but because life is so unfair. It should be anybody OTHER than my Mother. As if life hasn’t already taken enough from her or dealt her enough crap hands. A natural disaster is unfolding and I can’t do anything but watch. There was no way to truly prepare, but there never is. We will watch helplessly and pray to God there is something salvageable when this storm, too, passes.
I am so mad at God, just like I was last year. I keep muttering, disgusted, “You weren’t supposed to let this happen again” but I’ll still call on Him because it’s all I know to do right now. I don’t deserve His mercies, but my Mama certainly does. More than anybody, she does.
I am not giving up on my Mom, but the only thing I know to do is write when my heart feels this way. This burden, this heavy cloak of dread, depression, and pain weigh on me and this is my outlet. I will be strong for her and everyone else. I will put on the straight face and deal with what comes. I will be the rock, steady and solid, no matter what comes.
Right now, I must believe that she will beat this, too. I must believe it. I do believe it.
I believe that she will beat this, too.