Dealing with Cancer....two years later.

DISCLAIMER:  While the majority of the posts on my blog the past two years have been for grad school assignments, I felt the need to post today.  These are my thoughts and feelings, as I typed them randomly this morning.  I am in no way trying to offend anyone, quite the opposite really, I am trying to heal as best I can.  AS most of you know, my mother has been fighting cancer for two years.  The ups and downs, my own insecurities, and my worry and love for both of my sisters is what led me to write the following.  Please remember that I LOVE my family with all my heart and this in no way is trying to assign blame, call anyone out, or start a war.  It is just my own personal raw feelings, and I am sure that my sister's have their own raw feelings as well.

June 2012.  The month and year that my, up-until-now fairly safe, life changed.  That was when my mother, Patricia Jane Bell Davis, was diagnosed with one of the worst types of cancer for a woman to have.  The big “O” in cancer.  The “Whispering Killer”. Ovarian Cancer.  My life has changed.  My mother’s life has changed.  My sisters lives have changed.  My father’s life has changed.  It will have an impact on how I live day to day for the rest of my life.  It will have an impact on the children and grandchildren that I raise some day.  It has and will continue to have an impact on my 9 year old niece and her two older brothers.  I have cried so many tears that at times I don’t think I will ever be able to cry another tear again, and then I prove myself wrong by crying a torrent again.  I have been so angry at how my older sister is dealing with the knowledge of my mother’s mortality that I have wanted at times to wring her neck. Since I cannot read her mind, I can only guess that the fact that she does not talk about it and does not visit my mother as often as I feel she should, is how she is dealing with things.  No matter her reasoning or dealing mechanisms, one thing remains true, I love both of my sisters and I am there for them when they feel the need to talk about what is happening with our mother. The one thing I have never done is ask God “WHY?”  To me, this is not about God giving her cancer, but rather the fact that he is there to comfort her and give her doctor’s guidance.  I know that he has a plan for her; I just have to trust that whatever that plan is, when her time on this earth is done, that I will find comfort in the fact that God chose her to be my mother. 

I have been trying to remember as much as I can in regards to events and memories of my mother.  There are a few that stand out vividly, and some that I only have bits and pieces of.  One of my earliest memories is in the house on Rainbow Drive in Lynchburg, VA.  I know I was not yet 5, as we moved to TN when I was 4.  This particular memory is very choppy and foggy, but I am outside and I can see her standing by the door.  Another one is of a birthday party in TN.  She was working at McDonald’s at the time and is wearing her uniform.  I am unsure if she is going in or just got home from work.  There are some sad memories, such as me sitting in the back of the orange Datsun trying to put on socks as my dad is rushing my mother to the hospital.  I am scared, and tired as it is the middle of the night to me, and I don’t know what is wrong with my mommy.  I can remember funny memories, such as the time she was taking us trick-or-treating and we were at the neighbor’s house.  We had carved two pumpkins that year and they were on a double stand in the middle of the living room window instead of outside on the porch.  IT was chilly that year so we had a fire going in the fireplace in the living room.  Mom looked across the street and thought the house was on fire (no, this is not the funny part….that is coming next).  She took off running down the hill driveway of the neighbor’s house and started across the road.  The next thing I know, she is sprawled out on her back in the middle of the street with her legs up in the air like a circus clown.  To this day I smile when I picture my mother lying in the middle of the street with her legs thrown up in the air.  I remember the movies from McDonald’s that she took to area schools and clubs to show the kids.  In fact, I can still remember parts of the songs in those films.  I remember swimming at Freedom Hall pool and the Rec Center.  I remember Hill’s Department store and going to shop with her.  I remember going to see Granny Bell, her mother, and Great Granny Bell on trips to Virginia, with her.  I can also remember her wearing my tail out with an acrylic hairbrush because I did something wrong.  Oh that hairbrush, I can remember sitting still, or trying to, as she used that brush to do what must have been her best attempt at yanking every single one of the hairs on my head out as she brushed it. (To this day I still have a tender scalp). 

I find myself wondering how I will react when my mother passes on, hopefully a long time from now.  Will I be stoic for my sisters and not shed a tear?  Highly doubtful.  I am a very emotional and sensitive person. I cry at sappy commercials, TV shows, and movies.  I watch the military homecoming videos on YouTube and bawl like a baby.  They are happy tears, sad tears, angry tears….but that is my caring nature and I would never want to change it.  So, on the day my mother passes from my world into God’s arms, I know I will be investing in a tissue company.