What a year really means

It’s been a year and a month since my mom had her stroke. 13 months. That’s one month more than the average lifespan of someone with this type of cancer. And so far we haven’t seen any of the tumors show back up on the MRI, which means they’re still small and slow growing, so we probably have even more time. And that’s great, right? Yes. And no. Just a little bit of no.

Why? Why is there any no?

Because it’s really, really hard. It’s really, really hard, just as hard as it was when she first got sick. It’s hard to carry the fact that my mom is dying. It’s hard to keep have last events – last birthdays, last holidays, bringing extra significance to small events because she might not be around for the next one. It’s hard to see her start to decline – to see her have a harder time talking and walking, to see her getting more and more tired. It’s hard to balance work and family and classes and friends, life in two cities, ridiculous amounts of driving. It’s hard to take care of her, to take her to the bathroom, to make her meals (and to see her eating less and less), to do things around the house that she used to do and that my dad shouldn’t do. It’s hard, and it hasn’t really gotten easier.

It’s just as hard as it was when she first had the stroke. It’s just as tiring and emotionally taxing as it was at the beginning. Sure, I’ve built up my coping mechanisms so I can live a normal-looking life. But really, inside, it’s just as hard as it was before. Maybe even a little harder, because of fatigue.

And I still need help. I still need friends to take initiative with me, to check on me, to support me, because I can’t do this on my own. I still need people to pray, for me, for my mom, for my family. I still need to be received with patience and understanding, because I’m probably going to still act like an idiot, like lunatic, like someone out of control, like someone who is horrible at returning calls and emails. I still need hope. I still need truth. I still need love.

It’s still hard. It’s still tiring. But I guess, when it comes down to it, I wouldn’t trade this time with my mom for anything in the world.