Good Mothers Die

This brought me back to the time when I was 17, waiting for my mother to come out of surgery. She had two brain tumors and the doctor said the surgery would take three hours to remove both. What he didn’t tell us was that he suspected they would both be malignant and therefore easier to remove — malignant cells are soft and “mushy”, removed by sucking them out. Nine hours later the surgeon came out to find us in the waiting room to inform us he was successful in removing one tumor, the largest one (the size of a softball). It was benign and so the cells were firm, needing to be cut carefully out with a scalpel. This is why he was only able to remove one in nine hours. My mom would have to return in six months to have the second tumor removed.

There was a lot of fear and uncertainty in my home during my junior year of high school. The unspoken words of what could happen constantly shadowed us. Good mothers die, true. But thank God, they also live.