October 19, 2000
Being roshambo'd by life.....
[I'm posting this anonymously, well, because nothing I'm about to talk about is certain yet. And in some ways, it's a private thing. But I need to vent. Everything here is 100% true. It's also 100% serious, which might even be a departure from the norm for this site, where we bash the stupid things like work and fickle women. -author]
Early last week, I learned that my mother had an anomalous mammogram. Since cancer runs rampant on her side of the family, her own mother having died of throat/lung/spinal cancer, she practically ran to the oncology department for follow-up diagnosis. We were told that it is, indeed, breast cancer.
My mother is 52 years old. In the last 3 months, she has overcome her lifetime fear of flying and actually begun taking lessons herself. Hell, the plan was for her to end up soloing and possibly getting a private pilot's license sometime in the next couple of years. She also began to overcome her lifetime problem with her weight, buying (get this!) rollerblades, and taking the family dog for 3-6 mile skating trips up and down a biking path near our house. And I'll be -damned- if she isn't happy (and the dog ain't fat anymore either!). She's also been coming to terms with her son being far away from home, out in the world as it should be. She's finally enjoying herself to the fullest.
Now this. Life decides to kick the entire family in the collective goolies, and deal us this wildcard. I feel violated. How DARE this happen to my mother?! She did nothing wrong. She raised me, she loves me, she loves my father, she loves her father... She goes to church, she helps out in the community, she even volunteers at the local hockey games... And this happens to her.
Because of this, she may never get her pilot's license. She knew she might not beforehand, but she grew attached to the idea. It became a goal to reach, and she wants it more than anything. She also may never again be able to rollerblade down the path with the dog chasing happily behind. Chemotherapy and radiation treatment do things like that. She's a beautiful woman. And I don't want to see her physically and emotionally destroyed by drugs and treatments. It just isn't fair.
For the past 10 days, I've felt like punching walls, kicking walls. Hell, I almost walked out of the office when I found out, and would've kept on walking till I got home. I can't deal with this. Waiting. PFFT!
And so, tomorrow, she has a biopsy. Tomorrow, we find out exactly what we're dealing with. Doctors have been throwing around the B(enign) word, the M(alignant) word... They've been talking about possible radiation treatment to make sure the entire thing is gone. They've been talking about radical chemotherapy to kill it quick. And it's making me sick. I can't stand being far away, unable to comfort someone who comforted me during the worst month of my life.
So tomorrow, as I'm supposed to be building a new mail server, and testing new network cards in our webservers, and all my other various duties... I'll be sitting at my desk, staring at my pager, hoping it'll go off and let me know that everything is OK.
I hope it is, because if it isn't, fate is going to have one pissed off network engineer after him.
PFFT! to being roshambo'd by life.
Published: October 19, 2000