EVERYTHING
FOR YOUR FAMILY
Mother Knows Best
|
||||
|
The biopsy was performed on Monday. "When will you know?" I asked my doctor as she took off her surgical gloves and began making notes on my chart. "Probably not until Friday," she answered. While the nurse took over the procedure, I told myself there was no reason to worry. I'm of healthy stock. No family history. I'm just a normal mom with more important things to do. This would simply be a little blip on the otherwise pretty clean slate that is my medical history. Still...the weeklong wait opened the door to worries. "What if?" I asked myself. What if I'm one of those people who wake up one day and am told that my time is up? I mentally swipe at the thought, but like an annoying fly, the haunting question leaves for a moment or two, only to return. Memories of Claire and Kris, two women who, like me, were mothers to 2 boys each, keep surfacing. We went to the same church, the same baseball games. Both led normal lives and looked forward to watching their sons graduate, marry and someday grace their lives with grandchildren. Neither suspected anything would take them from their role as mother, wife and friend. But cancer did. And now both these vital women are gone. At church, watching Claire's sons serve mass as altar boys, I am struck, deeply feeling their loss, but also hers. They're so young. So was she. When my son's team played Kris's son in baseball, shortly after her passing, I took in the sight of him, wishing that somehow she could, through my tear-filled eyes, see him, watch him, feast on the vision of him. How can she be gone? How? And now it is my turn to wait for the doctor's call. A list of things to get done diverts my attention. Clean the shower in case mom has to stay over to care for my family. Put out the good towels. Show my husband where I keep the birth certificates and other important documents. Then, inescapably, the recurring question...what if this is it? Suddenly, the kids' bickering doesn't bother me. The flowers are deliciously fragrant and I am grateful for the simplest things; the breeze, a blanket, a hug from my husband. I no longer lament that our house is too small or the kitchen cabinets need replacing. None of that matters now. I recall the words that appear next to my high school yearbook photo, when each senior was asked what philosophy they would live by. Mine reads, "Live each day as if it were your last." When did I stop doing that? Friday came and so did the call. Negative. Prayers of thanks, then a promise to Kris and Claire...to cherish each day as they would have done, had they been blessed with just one more. Kimberly A. Porrazzo is a senior writer for Churm Publishing, Inc. She can be reached at kimberlyporrazzo@cox.net. |
||||
RSS Subscribe
Digg This ArticleSEARCH THE SITE
