the c-word.

i love my mom so much

i wrote the below last week and i wish i had more updates and better news to share but the last two and a half weeks have been so… difficult. difficult doesn’t even feel appropriate. difficult is like a calculus test you didn’t study enough for.

in some ways it feels like i’m keeping a secret and i’m not sure when/if i’ll talk about this more openly. whenever i’m having a hard time in my real life, i tend to retreat from social media for a number of different reasons. sometimes, i’m not ready to talk about it while i’m going through it. other times, i’m trying to respect the privacy of others. but at the same time, posting as though everything is ok feels like a straight up lie.

every time i’ve even considered editing a video or posting an older video from the weeks prior, it feels… ridiculous. this isn’t my life. my current life is a slew of doctors appointments and calls to insurance. its crying until my eyes sting and the skin under my nose is raw. its waking up puffy and swollen. its praying so so hard.

i went back and forth about whether i should send this because it feels so real, and so scary. but it also feels good to talk about it and not feel like i’m hiding it.

-

i’m incredibly anxious and nervous about tomorrow. yes, there’s the election but that’s just part of it. maybe even a small part of it? there’s something else i’m even more anxious and scared about. the thing i’ve been thinking about for the last week. that i’ve stayed up until 5am thinking about.

tomorrow’s the day we get my mom’s biopsy results. we confirm the c-word. the cancer. we’ll know the stage. we’ll know the prognosis. and it’s the day that all the work really begins.

i’ve spent the last week doing what i can to prepare for tomorrow — learning about the different types of cancers. understanding which ones are receptive to what treatment. scouring reddit and nextdoor for recommendations on oncologists and surgeons, the best research hospitals. i’ve spent the last week crying at 2am over stories on reddit that aren’t mine but that feel vaguely familiar. finding glimmers of hope in the community that exists on the breast cancer sub-reddit, the anecdotal stories of people who’ve survived 10+ years with stage 4 breast cancer, the cancer warriors who’ve finally won their battles.

this week has been one that i’ve feared for most of my life. my maternal grandma passed away from breast cancer when my mom was just 2 and it’s haunted my nightmares for decades.

more than my own fear, i’m scared for my mom and everything that she’s going to face. the decisions she’s going to have to make about doctors, treatments, surgeries. my mom’s battled chronic pains and illnesses for over half her life now and i don’t know how her body will handle all of this. cancer treatment is incredibly difficult on even the strongest person, how is she going to fight this? will she even choose to fight this? i don’t know.

my mom is an incredibly positive person. she’s been through a lot in her life and she’s very much at peace? with her life and where she is. according to her, she’s outlived both parents, gotten to see her two daughters grow up (something her parents didn’t get to do), and while she’s struggled with chronic pains and illnesses, has had the opportunity to do fun things like travel (also something her parents never had the opportunity to do).

since the initial diagnosis last week, she’s continued to remain positive and i’m not sure if it’s denial but i also don’t think it’s a bad thing? while my dad and i are texting about doctors and treatment in the middle of the night, he says that my mom’s been sleeping through the night (even though she generally struggles with sleep) and even snoring! at the same time, i don’t want this positivity to be the reason for her to choose not to fight this. i think it’s going to come down to what that fight is going to look like.

there’s a lot that i don’t know, that we don’t know, yet.

what i do know is that breast cancer treatment has gotten much better over the last 50 years, and particularly in the last 10 years (or so i keep telling myself). i know that she’s my number one priority. making sure she has the access to the best care, the best options, the best treatment is the only thing i care about. i know that i’m going to be there with her every step of the way regardless of what decision she makes. and i know that the next few weeks, months, even years, are going to be difficult.

i’m sorry, i know you signed up for a newsletter to read about fun supper clubs, recipes, and to noodle around with me, and idk how much i’ll be delivering on those things in the near future. i’m scared. i’m anxious. but writing this has been helpful. thank you for giving me a space to write.

if you’ve been through something like this, i am 100% open to advice on how to support a parent/loved one through this, things you found helpful in managing your own emotional journey, doctors you’ve loved, friends of friends who specialize in breast cancer, words of comfort, support, hopeful stories. really, anything. cancer fkn sucks.

and if you’re at all religious, we could really use a prayer or two right now.

ily, christy