Breaking the Pattern

I wasn't quite seven when my father died and I've been preparing myself for the inevitable loss of my mother ever since. 

Sort of. 

My early youth was filled with irrational and malevolent "I hate you" strategies, that in retrospect I can only presume were a defense mechanism of sorts. Loss of someone you love, hurts. A lot. Therefore, losing someone you abhor would at least bring indifference right? For a few years, I was terrible to my mother. I was desperate to feel less of everything or better... not feeling anything at all.

In my late teens, my mother and I repaired our relationship. We became friends. I allowed myself to feel a part of my family. After all, my mom and brother were all I had really, and contrary to my efforts to push them away, I needed them.  

Since then, I've always measured my security and happiness in life against predicted average lifespans and likely probabilities in an effort to guess when to prepare myself for loss. Because it will happen again. And it will probably happen when I'm happy. 

Agoraphobia, procrastination and avoidance are rampant throughout my life. All in an effort to just stay.

Stay neutral. Not too sad; so I can function, but not too happy... no, no! That's when the other shoe drops. 

Stay in one place. Slow time just a little. Don't breathe Karen... hide in the corner; play dead. Stay still, stay quiet and maybe fate won't notice me. Again.  

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I'm finding myself torn. In a million different directions....  

It's so easy to be angry. I'm angry at the cancer. I'm angry at the doctors that disrupted the tumour and as a result have seemingly poked and enraged a sleeping monster. My mother had NO symptoms mere weeks ago at diagnosis and today she is in constant pain, eats little and has now started vomiting. Would this all be happening if she hadn't seen a doctor? Would she feel like this today anyway? I'll never know that. That makes me angry too. Paradoxically, I'm even more mad she didn't go to the doctor sooner. 

I hate that I'm having to think about the possibility of my mom being very, very sick (or worse). I don't want her to suffer. I cry all the time when I catch myself imagining my life without her. I'm trying so hard to stay positive. Harder still to keep her positive. Because I still need her. 

It's so easy to want to retreat into old habits. Avoid, deny, ignore. Stay still. Don't breathe. Barely exist. 

But what will that do? It will only destroy me. 

And I too have a daughter that needs me. So instead of playing dead, I'm going to fight back. For her.

Title? Unfair is all that comes to mind.

Things have been crazy hectic busy.

Last weekend included a catering job for 100 and I was also contracted to organize sponsorships and manage / run the bar services for the entertainment tent at our community's largest annual festival, Privateer Days. We slung drinks out to at least 1000 people. I slept and tweeted very little. The lovely Kate Inglis was even there for a reading of the Dread Crew and I was so busy I didn't have a minute to stop by and say hello. The B&B was even full.

Make hay while the sun shines right? At least last week was good for that. I was grateful for the distractions to be honest...

You see, last week also delivered a crotch-punch. My mom was diagnosed with Acral Lentiginous Melanoma last Monday. My mom has cancer.

It's rare, but rarer still is that the cancer is most often seen in asian, first nation and black ethnic groups, not caucasians. And, it's location (bottom of her foot) is most often seen in black ethnicities. It's what killed Bob Marley. My mom, has a rare form of a rare cancer. On top of that, melanoma is the worst kind of skin cancer you can get.

Fuck.

I said that a lot last week. I also cried a lot.

Twitter was a thousand levels of awesome and let me cry on its collective shoulder. I can't tell you how much I needed that and how it has helped me be the rock my mom needs right now. THANK YOU wonderful twitter friends!

Thanks to divine intervention, my mom had the lesion surgically removed yesterday. At least, her surgeon said he has removed what he can and won't know for sure if the surgery went well until her follow up appouintment on August 18th where he will look for satelite lesions. She may need another procedure to remove radial tissue. She may also need to have some proceedure that involves dye injected into the lymph nodes in her leg to see if it has spread.

I'm trying to focus (and keep my mom focused) only on what we know. Thinking of the what ifs is too damn scary. The surgeon said yeterday that melanoma is best treated by removal. If it has spread to her lungs, then the spot(s) need to be cut out. If it spreads to her bones or brain? Well I don't want to talk about that.

What I know is this: my mom has no other lesions on her body and feels like a relatively healthy 66 year old, she has had the lesion (or at least most of it) removed. We will know within a few weeks what the prognosis is. Until then, I can only have confidence in her medical team and hope that the universe is looking out for my mom.

Oddly, my mother had a weird dream the night before the surgery. In her dream, her foot was bandaged (as it is today, post proceedure) and her parents were there. Her dad was holding her foot and looking at it. What's weird about that? My grandmother died in 1992 and my grandfather died in 1981.

Keep my mom in your thoughts please. I need her.

Also, please check yourself and your loved ones for spots. Check the WHOLE body, not just bits exposed to the sun. I learned last week that skin cancer doesn't have to be caused by the sun. But wear sunscreen anyway ok? Because this sucks.