July 2, 2022 - Turbo Cancer: Day 21
The Day My Perception of Reality Changed
0n this day, last year, my perception of reality changed.
Yesterday’s test results had been devastating - but now we were in a holding pattern. It was a holiday weekend - so we had to wait a few days for the next test, and the next set of answers.
I was at my mom’s house to help her.
The pain was relentless.
I was helping her move from one place to another - trying to find any position that would provide relief.
I can still see her - trying to step so lightly, to avoid any additional impact to her already twisted and mangled body. In that condition- every movement was a struggle. Every movement was agony.
I got my mom onto the couch. She lay down, and I sat on the edge of the cushion beside her, gently rubbing her arm and looking down at her face.
Lying there, she closed her eyes and, for a moment, her tense forehead smoothed.
She reached her two hands up and forward, as if she had been holding a basketball.
She said: “This pain - I just don’t know where to put it anymore.”
And I could see it.
In her hands, there was a metallic, translucent sphere filled with neurons and electricity and fire.
Her pain wasn’t a concept. It wasn’t a description of a feeling. Her pain was a real, living, breathing being that was there in that room, with us.
It was a demon that had dug in with its talons and taken up residence - and it did not intend to leave.
I saw that thing.
And I prayed.
I asked God to take care of my husband and my boys and my dogs for me, as I had a mission to complete.
I prayed for strength and I prayed for humility.
I repeated that prayer so many times. Sometimes every day. Sometimes every hour. Sometimes every minute.
Sometimes those were the only words that could be found inside of my head.
“Strength and humility. Strength and humility. Strength and humility.”
My mom, who had always taken care of everyone, was now completely vulnerable and dependent. She was like an infant - in need of the gentle, loving, compassionate care.
I knew that somebody had to take care of her.
I knew that it was always supposed to be me.
My mom’s smile is the what I miss most of all.
She was amazing in that every picture you post shows her smiling. In such pain relentlessly....wow.