Semantics of cancer

Whymommy linked to this post by Punk Rock Mommy yesterday. It isn't someone I have read before, but as far as reading a first post goes, this one will be sticking with me for quite some time.

Momma and I have talked about her chemo some. It doesn't dominate our conversations. It doesn't dominate her life.

There will be a time that she has to decide though, if the quality of life the chemo leaves her with is worth fighting for. She has assured me that now is not that time. I believe her.

The truth of the matter though is that Momma has cancer. She has cancer that will eventually lead to her death. We know this. What we don't know is how soon that will be. Of course we hope and pray it will be very far off. And maybe it will. We certainly have great hope and faith in that.

And so today, I found so much comfort in these words from Andrea, Punk Rock Mommy:

I am not “dying”. I am living with a terminal illness that eventually I will die from.

Andrea, Susan, my momma, are all people living with cancer. What an important distinction to make.

The last time my momma was going through chemo, I didn't call her much. I felt like I didn't have anything important enough to say. Like her time on earth here was precious and if I couldn't think of something wildly intelligent or relevant, that I probably shouldn't waste her energy.

I am a moron.

As Susan and I chatted on the phone this weekend, we laughed about old boyfriends. We talked about babies and naptime. We giggled like friends. Because we are. Susan is living with cancer and doing a damn fine job of it too. Adapting and adjusting to be the best mother, wife, daughter, and friend she can be. I would say it is amazing, but it's not.

It's just who she is and what she does.

So I add Andrea and her family to my prayers, and I say thank you to her for her words. Words that have reminded me once again that my momma and Susan are doing a superb job of living.