An end

I wish I could call this post "the end," and top if off with a "screw you cancer" just for kicks. But unfortunately I'm learning that cancer doesn't really end. It's like some sort of clever metaphor that I can't come up with right now because I'm too mad at cancer.

But you know what, cancer? My mom made it through 12 rounds of chemotherapy, so you can suck it.

I could never begin to describe what this year has been like for my mom--I'm sure I don't know the half of it myself. But what I can say is how proud I am of her and how thankful I am for the doctors, nurses, family, and friends who have made cancer treatable and this time bearable.

At the treatment center, each patient rings a bell when his or her treatment is complete. Norah and I got to help my mom ring it on Wednesday. It was a good day.



Get well soon, Mom. We love you.

Subtlety is not her speciality

Neither is holding still, which makes it very difficult to take a picture with my phone.

So in case you can't decipher how we feel about cancer, this is how we feel about cancer:

I feel like Norah is going to be wearing this onesie a lot in the next little while.

After a weekend stint in the hospital, my mom is thankfully doing much better--but I think we're in for a much longer six months than any of us could have anticipated.

The beginning

Chemotherapy starts today. Let's get this behind us, shall we?

Mom, your only option is to get better. We love you!


Oh, and don't be mad at me for posting pictures. You're the most adorable cancer patient who ever was.

Among the living

So here it is, almost March, and I've only posted once this month. I haven't been sure what I've wanted to say--but I know I want to say something. It's just a really tender time.

Here's the thing: My mom has cancer.

Doesn't that sound profane? I feel like if it has to be said out loud, it should only be whispered. And, no, she's not dying of cancer and I know it could be worse, but this is my mom. My mom.

My mom isn't supposed to have to go through procedures and surgeries and chemotherapy. Do I really need to explain to the universe that, sorry, you've got the wrong lady--Erin's mom is unavailable for that right now?

But here we are. And for those of you who don't know the story, here's the condensed version:

My mom went in for a colonoscopy and they found a polyp. The polyp was removed and tested and turned out to be cancerous. Then she had surgery to remove the part of her colon where they had found the polyp. Out of the 27 lymph nodes they removed in the surgery, one of them had a tiny, teeny, minuscule amount of cancer. So that means chemotherapy. She's now home from the hospital, recovering from her surgery, and awaiting the next steps.

Sorry for blogging about your insides, Mom.

Again, it could be much worse. It could be too late for any of this. So in the grand scheme of things, everything is fine. It's just that she's my mom.

And then want to know something that completely blew my mind? I'm a mom. That person that my mom is to me, I'm that to someone else. Talk about a holy shit moment. So, yes, I've been a little pensive and a little overwhelmed and a little unsure of what I even have to say.

The best that I can come up with right now is this: I'm incredibly blessed to have a mom who has always been a mom to me. Everything that a mom should be, she is--and I know that not everyone is lucky enough to have that. Now if I can do the same for Norah, we win. Even with all the messiness and heartache and cancer that life brings, we win.

I guess that's what I have to say.

And on a lighter note: Nic and Norah are going to Hawaii with me on Friday. The warm weather should do us good.