My closest companion is a warrior. When I say “closest companion,” I’m not referring to my college roommate—who is indeed wonderful—or my partner, who ranks a close second. The companion I mean is my mother, the woman who not only brought me into this world but also played a crucial role in shaping my life. She has been my unwavering support, my personal cheerleader, my guiding light, and, at times, my salvation.
However, everything changed for us on November 13th. I can still vividly recall that cold day in the hospital waiting room, the two-hour surgery that left me an anxious bundle of nerves. I will never forget the moment the surgeon emerged and led me into a small, cold room. There, like countless others who had waited in those chairs before me, I heard the words that would forever alter our lives: “Massive disease, cancer has spread. We had to remove much more than we anticipated. Chemotherapy will be necessary.” His words swirled around me like a tempest, and the realization of my mother’s potential mortality struck me with overwhelming fear. The gravity of the situation pressed down on me, suffocating me, each breath becoming a struggle. I distinctly remember breaking down in the hospital restroom, crouched low as I wept and prayed for my mother’s safety.
The subsequent days and weeks felt interminable. What was supposed to be a week-long hospital stay turned into an extended ordeal. Complications arose, leading to disputes over insurance, medication, and rehabilitation, not to mention ambulance transports through snowstorms for follow-up care. Nothing can prepare you for the sudden shift into adulthood that comes from caring for an ill parent—not graduating college, landing your first job, or even becoming a parent yourself. The experience of caring for a seriously ill parent, even one as resilient as mine, brings an unexpected maturity and sobering perspective on life. There were days when I collapsed on my bed, sobbing harder than I thought possible, fervently praying for her recovery.
Before my mother’s diagnosis, my partner and I were eagerly planning to move in together. My mother and I were engrossed in daily conversations about decorating our new place, discussing my son starting kindergarten, and planning his Superman-themed birthday party. But all of that camaraderie came to an abrupt halt on November 13th, overshadowed by the invasive presence of cancer, a prolonged hospital stay, and her ongoing recovery.
In the weeks following the diagnosis, I was with her through every step, conversing with her medical team so frequently that they memorized my phone number. Yet, I found myself yearning for our old life—our conversations, our nightly check-ins, the simple things that once brought us joy.
Each November night, as I settled into bed, an overwhelming sense of loneliness would wash over me. This wasn’t just about missing our daily chats; it was a deeper longing for the days before November 13th, a time when cancer hadn’t disrupted our lives, and she didn’t have to endure such pain. I wished to return to November 12th, the day when everything felt right in the world.
Despite my mother’s remarkable courage and progress in her treatment, we remain acutely aware of the relentless battle against cancer, knowing that each day requires us to keep fighting. I will always be her pillar of strength, her advocate, ready to support her on this journey. My mother has always believed in the resilience of the human spirit; she finds beauty even amidst life’s trials, a message I strive to carry with me every day.
In moments when the pain and anxiety become overwhelming, I close my eyes and envision the sunny summer days that will eventually return. Days spent at her home, enjoying brunch at her restaurant, watching my son play in her backyard, and discussing plans for a wedding or expanding our family. Despite the challenges of this past year, I long for the time when we can once again revel in the beautiful possibilities life has to offer.
Until that day arrives, I find myself missing November 12th.
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Summary:
This heartfelt narrative recounts the author’s emotional journey following her mother’s cancer diagnosis, detailing the profound impact this event had on their relationship and daily life. In reflecting on the transition from normalcy to the upheaval brought on by illness, the author shares her longing for the simplicity of life before November 13th while also acknowledging her mother’s resilience and their enduring bond.