Mother's Day

Mother's Day has always been a day of strange emotions for me. It was the last day that my mother was alive.

She was so vibrant and full of life that day, after months of being unable to leave her bed and eating only chocolate ice cream. Our family came to our home, and she cooked lunch. I was 13. She asked me after everyone left if I wanted to play cards with her.

"I think I can remember how to count now..." She was an accountant, and the cancer had hurt her so much that she couldn't count to 12 in order to play Skip Bo.

"I don't think so." I was busy chatting with my e-friends. Even at that age, I looked better in writing.

"Oh..." I could tell how disappointed she was.

"Mom, I am too old to play cards with you."

It was the last thing I ever said to her.

I had no clue that she would die the next day. I thought I had more time. I thought I had days, even weeks, left to spend with her..but the next morning, it was over. I never got to say goodbye. I never said "I love you". I never said "I wish we'd had more time".

I'd like to think that I've lived the rest of my life saying those things, over and over. I am Agnostic; I do not believe that there is some sentient spirit of my mother living in Heaven, watching over me and waiting for me to get to her. But sometimes I have these dreams, and they are so real... I think there must be something of her left.

Today was my first Mother's Day. But again, the strange mix of emotions: guilt, sadness, fear, anger...and this time around, happiness. Sheer joy to be spending this day with my son.

Some things never change. Thankfully, this did.

Appointment Update

I met with the oncological geneticist today. She's the same one that did my BRAC testing two years ago. We talked at length about the recommendations of the two OB/GYNs I saw, and my risk for cancer.

Essentially, the geneticist said that my risk for cancer is only slightly higher than the risk for the general population. But, when I started describing to her the way I felt about possibly getting cancer, she immediately saw red flags. We discussed my anxiety about the situation and she explained that, while I had been diagnosed with GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) it was quite likely that I actually suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
After I sobbed hysterically while repeating "I just can't do that to him" over and over again for about half an hour, she told me that we would do whatever we could to get rid of this elevated risk. I went for my first mammogram and am going to see a surgeon later in the month.

I'll write more concerning this topic later. For now, I've just dropped my baby off for his first night out of my sight since we left the hospital, and I am going a little crazy. I think I need a hot bath and a cold drink.