So when I arrived at mom’s house I bought her a good juicer and went through her kitchen on a stealthy reconnaissance mission to rid the place of everything that was high in sodium, sugar, fat, preservatives, and excessive carbohydrates.
She was not happy.
She hated the fresh vegetable and fruit juice, she missed her nachos and quick, canned soups, and every time I tried to talk to her about good eating habits and exercise, she gave me this…I don’t know what to call it…this attitude…this thing that told me she wasn’t listening to me. She flipped through channels on her remote control and deliberately avoided eye contact, saying “uh huh” and “oh” like a bored teenager. Suddenly I remembered all the times I didn’t call home when she was waiting up for me at midnight. And I thought when the heck did this happen? Our roles are now reversed!
At one point I snatched away the remote control and snapped, “Listen to me! This is not how I want to spend my time with you! I don’t want to have to drive all the way over here every time you have a piece of yourself cut off!”
That got her attention.
“Mom, we love you, but you have to take care of yourself. This cancer business is serious, and it didn’t have to happen. You can live to be a very old woman, but you won’t if you don’t stop abusing your body.”
Tears welled in her eyes and I think she was very serious when she said, “Okay, I promise.”
Her surgery went very well. The entire right breast was removed, and the doctor said he didn’t have to take any lymph nodes and all the cancer was gone. He said she wouldn’t need chemotherapy or radiation. This was all amazing news! But the recovery was difficult for her…and for me. It was hard to see my mother in that condition—her gaping wound stapled shut like a giant, closed eye. Cancer is an evil destroyer of everything beautiful. I hated it for what it did to my mother’s body. The depth of its destructive powers leveled me.
