Life...

So my mom has cancer. Leukemia to be exact. I have become a child of cancer.

More appropriately, I have become my mother. 

My Grandma Stahl was diagnosed with Multiple Myoloma (a rare blood cancer similar to ALL) in 1982, she was almost 60 years old. She was given a prognosis of 6 months. She lived until 1989, when she died at the age of 66, just like her mother before her. I remember our trips to Iowa City for Grandma's visits with Dr. MacFarland. I remember holding her hand while she had her chemo. I remember walking these very same halls with her. I remember my mom and my aunt taking care of her when she was too weak to take care of herself. I remember my mom telling us of the funny things Grandma said. But everything I remember, I remember through the eyes of a child. Innocent, jaded by the pain of her loss, over 20 years later.

Flash Forward 20 years. I am 30 years old. My mom is 62 years old. I talk to my mom every single day. Just like she did with her mom. It seems natural, normal. I know that this isn't always the case. But there it is... I am so like my mom in so many ways. We're social on the outside, nowhere as close to being as self-c0nfident on the inside. We are sharp-tongued, and as equally sharp-witted. And we love with a loyalty and a fierceness unrecognizable to most. We are selective in our friends, but we keep our friends for life. Who can say that they have benn friends with someone more than half their life? Not too many I am afraid.

So, my mom was diagnosed with Acute Lymphocitic Leukemia with a Positive Philadelphia chromosome. This makes her 50-50 chance much more difficult to fight. She is covered in bruises from failed IV attempts and holding and bumping against things. Everyday she receives blood transfusions. Most days she receives platelets too. They tried to do a lumbar puncture today to drain some spinal fluid and to replace that amount with Chemo. It's important that they keep the cervical areas clear of cancer. This procedure did not work. After over 2 hours of being poked and prodded, they returned her to us in her room. She will now need a port placed in her head to access the fluid around the brain. A neurosurgeon will place the poet and her dr will administer the chemo directly to her brain. This should work. And it will occur in 10-14 days.

I am now a child of cancer. My mom could die from this. Or from  simple infection. She is on constant meds and right now is asleep - talking about all sorts of things (her neighbors, the Smiths and the Oranges are getting married. Weston needs new shoes... it goes on and on. We are leaving for home tomorrow and I'm not sure of my emotions regarding cancer. It has robbed me of so much, and now it is trying to do it again. I am hurt, scared and angry. And I need to find a way to cope.