But. This time was different. I heard a sob in her voice, and my mama ain't one for public bawling. Then she said to me the words I never thought I'd hear: I have breast cancer. From there she broke down!!!! All I could do was fall on the couch. I prayed it was a lie. A mistake. I hoped that it wasn't true. But it was. My granny Freddie went to the parking lot to meet mama. Stayed with her & followed her home, so she could rest.
From the diagnosis to surgery to rigorous radiation was the cycle of the next few months. In fact the radiation was so rigorous & aggressive that if we ever see a reoccurrence mama wouldn't be able to undergo radiation. Only chemotherapy.
I remember going with mama to appointments & hearing the horror stories from the nurses. I remember hearing about one lady who stopped doing radiation because the cream they give you for your skin ruined her tops & blouses. I also remember my mama going to walgreen's to get "white tees". I promise this was the only time I found it useful we had an abundance of white tee shirt outlets in the hood.
Another lady had a double mastectomy. And insisted the doctors gave her implants as soon as she finished treatments. Because of the size & placement of the implants doctors were unable to find or check for reoccurrence of lumps & she subsequently died when her cancer reappeared & it took too long to diagnose.
My mama. No mastectomy. Just a lumpectomy but she was willing to do all that was necessary to increase her surviv rates.
There were so many women that refused to take the Femarra medication prescribed to breast cancer patients because it makes you gain weight.
My mama takes her medication. Walks to & from the train. Removed many things including most processed foods from her diet & while she's seen some weight gain, she's also still here.
Breast cancer it's not all pretty pink ribbons & some days it's downright ugly when you're trying to make sure there's enough cream on your mama's breast to make sure the cotton tee shirt does not stick to her badly burnt breast.
But when you can look back two years later & remember The treatments & still hug love fuss with & thank god for your mama those not so pretty moments are over taken by the beauty of her survival.
From God's Lips to Mine....
