April 17, 1996

April 17, 1996 I'm standing in the back of our family business and I receive the call. It's a call many before me have received, yet the first of this kind for me. It's my mother. She has just been diagnosed with a malignant tumor in her right kidney. Cancer. As they call it....the "C" word. Now I know why. It's like a blow to the head, to the heart. I get weak in the legs and need to sit. Mom is just 68 years old, vibrant, full of life. She and my dad take care of my 2 year old nephew. She's my rock. I have a 6 year old son and a 4 year old son. We share advice, stories, and laughter of these three little boys. She's my best friend. I can't lose her.

She is going to have surgery on April 26 to have the infected kidney removed. It's not much time for her to prepare, or for us to prepare. Dad is devastated. I try to reassure Dad, all the while I'm also needing reassurance. On the days up to the 26th I feel like I'm in a fog. I feel dizzy, nauseous, sad, scared, and yes, angry. Why my mom? My nephew needs her so badly. We all need her so badly.

I research anything and everything I can on this devastating disease in the days up to her surgery. My mother has been blessed with no gray hair. I am convinced and truly believe that her hair will turn gray and she will only live weeks after her surgery. I don't know why her hair matters so much to me except that she is ageless and I attribute some of that to her dark, beautiful hair. In my mind, she has looked this way my entire life. I am not ready for change, nor am I ready to lose her.