What that mean was that my mom was going to donate one of her completely functioning working organs to a complete stranger that needed it.
In all honesty I wasn't sure whether I should laugh or cry.
For those of you who haven't met my mom, allow me to give you a little background.
Growing up I wasn't the most, well, how do you say, "easy" child. I, myself managed to stay out of most trouble but found that I really liked hanging
around kids that were comfortable finding the "most" trouble. My mom well, she was pretty cool. She was the kind of mom that took
in my runaway friends, no questions asked. The kind of mom that I could talk to about all the things my other friends were hiding from their
parents (i.e. questions about sex, drinking, drugs, etc.). And she never judged you. My mother always accepted you for who you were.
Regardless if she agreed with your decisions or not.
All my friends used to tell me how lucky I was to have a mom like that. Of course at the time I thought they were delusional and had no idea what
kind of grief I had to put up with.
Now that I am an adult I can see that they had a point. I mean, how awesome is it to have a mom that is the "neighborhood" mom. A woman, that
cares so much about all the kids around her that she is willing to put herself out there, willing to deal with things I am certain her generation never
had to think twice about, a woman that just loves those kids unconditionally and wants to be maybe the one person in their lives that they can
count on. That they can be honest with. The person they can come to and not feel judged, a person they can feel safe with.
Looking back; I was pretty lucky.
Anyway, my mom and I always had a pretty close relationship. When she told me that she was going to undergo this "unnecessary" procedure
for this person we didn't even know I was pretty upset. I didn't want my mom's life jeopardized for some person I didn't know. I didn't want to risk
losing MY MOM for some stranger. But, she was her own person and she always encouraged me to be my own person so, I guess I didn't really
have a say.
It turns out that her becoming a living donor was one of the best things she could have done.
The events surrounding this event allowed her to learn that she had breast cancer. My
mother chose to have a full mastectomy. In order to remove all and any cancerous tissue that could exist/be existing in her body.
That, in itself, was a brave choice.
I have witnessed the repercussions that this disease has.
I have felt the fear that this disease causes.
I have lived every day knowing that her cancer could and had profoundly changed my life.
My mom and I are still like every other mother and daughter. We fight, we disagree, she treats me like a little kid and I rebel and push her buttons.
I am 30 years old and my mother is a breast cancer survivor.
I am 30 years old and I have a greater risk of having breast cancer myself.
I am 30 years old and pray that if I ever have a daughter she won't have to say these same things when she is the age I am now.
I am 30 years old and hope that I grow up to be as strong as selfless as my mom. (yes, the same mom that still drives me nuts.)
I am 30 years old and I love my mom and support her in her cause to help end this disease that ends other women's relationships with their
mother's against their will.
I can't walk with my mom or for my mom but in my heart I am with her with every single step she takes.
