My dearest companion is a warrior. And when I say “companion,” I’m not referring to my college roommate, who is fantastic, nor my boyfriend, who is a close second. The one I’m speaking about is my mother, the incredible woman who brought me into this world and has tirelessly supported me in creating my own life. She has been my steadfast cheerleader, my guardian angel, my rock, and, at times, my savior.
However, everything changed for us on November 13th. I can still vividly recall that chilly day in the second-floor hospital waiting room. The two-hour surgery felt like an eternity, during which I was consumed by anxiety, unable to concentrate on anything. I will never forget the surgeon emerging and guiding me into that small, frigid room. There, like countless others before me, I heard the words that would be permanently etched in my memory: “Massive disease, cancer has spread. We had to remove much more than we anticipated. We will need to start chemotherapy.” His words swirled around me like a whirlwind, and terror gripped me at the thought of losing my mother. The overwhelming weight of the situation felt as if a serpent had wrapped around my throat, making each breath increasingly laborious. I remember breaking down in the hospital restroom, crouching low, crying and pleading with the universe for her recovery.
The following days and weeks felt interminable. My mother’s hospital stay stretched far beyond the expected seven days, filled with complications, insurance battles, medication hurdles, rehab, and emergency trips in an ambulance through snowstorms. Nothing can make you feel more like an adult than caring for a sick parent—not graduating college, starting your first job, or even having your first child. When you take on the responsibility of caring for a seriously ill parent, it brings a profound sobriety to life that is hard to describe. There were days when I collapsed onto my bed, sobbing harder than I thought possible, praying fervently for her well-being.
Before her diagnosis, my boyfriend and I were eagerly planning to move in together, and my mother and I were excitedly discussing everything from interior decoration to my son starting kindergarten. We talked about his teachers, his upcoming superhero-themed birthday party, and all the little joys of daily life. But after November 13th, those simple conversations were abruptly interrupted by cancer and the complications of a prolonged recovery.
In the initial weeks following her diagnosis, we were by her side every step of the way. I spoke with her nurses and doctors so frequently that they could recite my cell phone number. Yet, I yearned for our old life—the lighthearted chats, our nightly calls, and our daily check-ins. Each night in November, as I lay down to sleep, an overwhelming loneliness would wash over me like a tidal wave. It wasn’t merely about missing our conversations; it was a deeper longing for the days before November 13th, before cancer invaded our lives—the days filled with laughter and hope.
Despite my mother’s extraordinary courage and gradual improvement, the specter of cancer looms large, and we know we must continue to fight. I will forever be her advocate, her support, and whatever she needs, standing by her side through this journey. My mom has always believed in the resilience of the human spirit; she finds beauty even in life’s toughest challenges, and this message is one I strive to carry with me every day.
When the pain and worry become overwhelming, I close my eyes and envision the sunlit summer days that await us. Days when we can sit outside at her house, enjoy brunch at her favorite restaurant, watch my son frolic in her backyard, and discuss plans for weddings and future children. We will once again marvel at the beautiful possibilities life has to offer, despite this painful year. Until that glorious day arrives, I find myself longing for November 12th.
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Summary:
In this heartfelt piece, Clara reflects on the profound changes in her life after her mother’s cancer diagnosis on November 13th. The narrative illustrates the stark contrast between pre- and post-diagnosis life, exploring themes of love, loss, and the resilience of the human spirit. Clara longs for the simplicity and joy of November 12th, the last day life felt “normal,” while vowing to support her mother through the challenges ahead.
Keyphrase: longing for pre-cancer days
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