My mother has a fatal cancer. Her third primary cancer, which means it originated from completely different cells than her breast cancer and her uterine cancer. Shit.
That is the first time I’ve really put those words out there, although back in January, when I was experiencing a mini-freak-out about the work hours next year, I was talking to B, and she asked me what I thought was going to happen, and I replied, “I think my mother is going to die.”
The minute Mom told me that the biopsy they did at St. Luke’s showed she had cancer, I knew it was different from the last two times. When she told me she had uterine cancer, then breast cancer, I didn’t get that pit in the stomach, cold-sweat feeling. I just wasn’t worried about it. When she had uterine cancer, she had a hysterectomy, the doctor said she got it all, and she didn’t even have chemo or radiation – easy-peasy! With the breast cancer, she had a lumpectomy, then chemo, followed by radiation, but all her scans have come back clear for 5 years. She’s an 8 year cancer survivor, for God’s sake! AN 8 YEAR CANCER SURVIVOR!
How can she have cancer again – and a rare, aggressive, practically untreatable one at that?
Life just does not want to give my family a break.