little "c"
cancer.
There I said it. I refuse to capitalize it. Although really, do you have to capitalize the beginning of a sentence if only contains one word? Is it really a sentence? And why do people call it the “big C”? I say we start calling the “little c” and start taking away its power.
Anyone reading this knows me a little bit; I doubt you came here by accident. But just in case you were the one person looking for a waste management consultant I will give you a little background (or go here for a fantastic WMC, Tony Soprano).
cancer (specifically breast cancer) has touched my life so many times. It started way before I was born when my mom was 16. Her mom was struck with the disease and died one year after her husband's passing. I knew it all my life and although it seemed a little sad to me, it didn’t really have a huge effect on me. My mom was never the type to cry that she missed her mom on birthdays, Christmas or the anniversary of her death. She didn’t really talk about her or my grandfather. I know she missed her all her life but she never really harped on it. Or maybe we were just too self-involved to see it. But come on, we were 10 and who isn’t self-involved at 10?
Ironically, when I was 16 my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was horrible. But we never really knew it. My mom was honest about her diagnosis, but assured us that she would have chemo and radiation and all would be fine. We believed her, how could we not? She was Mom.
She was tired, sick and lost all her hair. But she wore blush, a wig and would only vomit in her bedroom (behind closed doors) in a pail that she could then dispose of herself. She had great friends; the kind of friends who save your life with the power of their love (I have a couple of friends like that and I thank God each day for them). She went into remission one year later and stayed there for 6 years.
Then. They found a few “spots” on her back and liver. But they stayed small and didn’t move despite all odds. Then when I was 30, the day before my wedding, we were told in no uncertain terms that the cancer had started its attack again. She was carried out of my house on a kitchen chair to a waiting ambulance because cancer had started to crack her spine. My husband and I cared for her for 16 months until she died in my arms with her head resting against my pregnant belly. Although we knew she wouldn’t be with us for long her death was instant and shocking. Exactly two months later (to the exact minute), my daughter was born.
I didn't have my mom at my wedding but at least I got to go see her that day. What a sight we made prancing through the halls of the Ottawa General Hospital that day. I knew she wouldn't be in the delivery room holding my hand, but I thought that I would at least get to place my tiny, perfect baby in her arms and share a knowing smile with her.
cancer has taken so much from me and my family. And now it has struck again. Amelia’s caregiver has been diagnosed with a very aggressive form of breast cancer at the tender age of 39. Please come back tomorrow when I will post a beautiful piece my sweetheart has written about her and how you can help in some tiny way to make a difference.
There I said it. I refuse to capitalize it. Although really, do you have to capitalize the beginning of a sentence if only contains one word? Is it really a sentence? And why do people call it the “big C”? I say we start calling the “little c” and start taking away its power.
Anyone reading this knows me a little bit; I doubt you came here by accident. But just in case you were the one person looking for a waste management consultant I will give you a little background (or go here for a fantastic WMC, Tony Soprano).
cancer (specifically breast cancer) has touched my life so many times. It started way before I was born when my mom was 16. Her mom was struck with the disease and died one year after her husband's passing. I knew it all my life and although it seemed a little sad to me, it didn’t really have a huge effect on me. My mom was never the type to cry that she missed her mom on birthdays, Christmas or the anniversary of her death. She didn’t really talk about her or my grandfather. I know she missed her all her life but she never really harped on it. Or maybe we were just too self-involved to see it. But come on, we were 10 and who isn’t self-involved at 10?
Ironically, when I was 16 my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was horrible. But we never really knew it. My mom was honest about her diagnosis, but assured us that she would have chemo and radiation and all would be fine. We believed her, how could we not? She was Mom.
She was tired, sick and lost all her hair. But she wore blush, a wig and would only vomit in her bedroom (behind closed doors) in a pail that she could then dispose of herself. She had great friends; the kind of friends who save your life with the power of their love (I have a couple of friends like that and I thank God each day for them). She went into remission one year later and stayed there for 6 years.
Then. They found a few “spots” on her back and liver. But they stayed small and didn’t move despite all odds. Then when I was 30, the day before my wedding, we were told in no uncertain terms that the cancer had started its attack again. She was carried out of my house on a kitchen chair to a waiting ambulance because cancer had started to crack her spine. My husband and I cared for her for 16 months until she died in my arms with her head resting against my pregnant belly. Although we knew she wouldn’t be with us for long her death was instant and shocking. Exactly two months later (to the exact minute), my daughter was born.
I didn't have my mom at my wedding but at least I got to go see her that day. What a sight we made prancing through the halls of the Ottawa General Hospital that day. I knew she wouldn't be in the delivery room holding my hand, but I thought that I would at least get to place my tiny, perfect baby in her arms and share a knowing smile with her.
cancer has taken so much from me and my family. And now it has struck again. Amelia’s caregiver has been diagnosed with a very aggressive form of breast cancer at the tender age of 39. Please come back tomorrow when I will post a beautiful piece my sweetheart has written about her and how you can help in some tiny way to make a difference.
I miss you Mommy.
posted by JoJo @ 2:28 PM
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