Thanks to facebook’s new timeline, I was able to glimpse into my social media past and see what was what back in the day. What I found were some hilarious comments from friends. The comments weren’t ones that you would laugh over. They were those private joke comments you had to be there to understand.
At the end of college, days before our diplomas and and “oh, crap…we’re adults” moment, my friend commented on our finals. Grueling senior projects and papers. All she said was, “We’re done. Goodbye.”
Those words brought back memories. They made me laugh. Her sarcasm rang through in every word.
But her words, simple and honest, mean the same thing now as they did then.
They describe, with every ounce of my being, how I feel about my mom’s chemo journey coming to an end. A journey I never thought I’d journey. A journey I am more than happy to see come to an end.
We’re on our way now. About to sit one last time in the cancer treatment center with other wonderful people, all of whom are undeserving of this thing called cancer. They’re all from different walks of life. Their cancer is personal; just for them. But it is still cancer. Awful. some of them are just starting out. Some are right in the middle-the start so fresh in their mind, the end so far. And some, like my mom, are almost done.
My mom will fight today. She’ll battle it out one last time. The chemo will zone in on the tumor, now tiny and weak, and it will destroy whatever is left like an ICBM aimed at the enemy.
And when it does, we can say, “We’re done. Goodbye.”
Thank you to everyone who has battled with us. Thank you for your prayers and support, cards and care. My mom will undergo surgery to remove the rest of the tumor and tissue. Then the plan is for radiation. We appreciate your continued prayers. But right now, we party!em>