first thoughts

Almost five years ago, I had a very direct experience with illness and dying. My mother was diagnosed with Lymphoma, in the fall of 2004. She died a year and a half later after an unsuccessful battle with the cancer that gradually took control of her life. A tumor had first sprouted in her back, which was the source of the cancer, and it eventually spread. When my mom first started to feel the pain, she refused to go to the hospital, until my dad made her. She was in and out for nearly a month before we got the news that it was cancer. 

We had just moved to a brown stone in Washington Heights after a year of living in New York. I was in 6th grade and, in retrospect, I was socially confused. I had recently made friends with a large girl who bullied half of the school, and I became really caught up with my new social circle. My moms illness cut into the time I could spend with them. Instead of spending time teasing 8th graders or breaking the windows in the stairwell of my middle school, I'd visit my mother after school. I wasn't sure how I'd handle what was going on, so I separated myself from my family. I didn't begin taking the situation seriously until the first time my mom lost her hair after her first round of chemo. I had never known anyone with cancer before this, and I didn't know how her illness would affect her or me.

During that year and a half, there were many highs and lows related to my mothers sickness. We went through the highs of feeling as though she were getting better. At one point, we were even told that the cancer was in remission and that she would have stem cell transplant that would increase the possibility that the cancer would not return. However, just before the procedure, we learned that the cancer had actually spread and that my mother had a large tumor in her cervix. I think that the most unexpected aspect of my mothers illness is that it brought us closer together as a family. The evenings spent in the hospital, family meetings about my mothers treatments and ultimately, her death at home with all five of us surrounding all brought us closer together.

When I began writing this post, I kept on erasing the words that I would write, because I wanted to stray from writing about my mom. After thinking about what else I could write about, I figured it would be best to write about my mom because that is the most significant experience I've had with illness and dying. Because of the ways in which I was affected by my mothers death, I think that at times, I might grow uncomfortable with what we'll be studying, but I'm okay with that, because I know that its important to step out of comfort zones.