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A few weeks ago, my mother messaged me about a Doctor appointment she’d had.  I was going out the door to buy groceries with my nine-year-old son.  She texted me “He says it’s cancer” and ever since, my world’s been going on uber-slow mode. Everything slowed down in nightmarish fashion and I almost doubled over as if punched in the stomach. I immediately texted “SKYPE” in capitol letters with shaking fingers, and talked to my mother about the doctor’s MRI findings of her abdomen.  After hanging up, I was panting. I couldn’t catch my breath.

When a loved one says “Cancer” as a daughter, my mind went to “How do I live without my mother?” because I think of everyone who lost someone to cancer… Unfortunately I know a lot. A LOT. Including mothers who’ve lost children to this dastardly disease. I got angry. If someone had so much as looked at me wrong, I felt like I would’ve beaten them bloody.

I got my food, and took a detour to Sephora. I don’t know why. Buying that $ephora $30 Urban Decay eyeshadow palette seemed important.

As a nurse, my mind went to the painful, horrible treatments my mother would endure to gain more time with us, her children. And her grandchildren. I’d recently moved closer to my home province to get more time with my family. How was I to know how important this would be?? I thought of her getting sick, how much thinner she’d get with chemo treatments, and lose her hair.  I wondered which hair dresser I’d go to to shave my own head. I’ll be damned if I let my mother go through losing hair alone.  I thought about all the cancer patients I took care of. How sick they got. How that light of hopeful seemed to be missing in there eyes at times. I didn’t relish seeing that in my mother. Not the woman who always told us to keep trying and never give up.

I will be writing about this frequently, because it’s how I’m going to handle it. Someone else I met, lost her mother to cancer. She told me the story and hugged me hard.  I hang on to that story and how this Rock Diva dealt with her mother’s diagnosis by writing her a beautiful song that became a popular rock ballad.

Lita Ford, thank you for taking me on your journey, so I have strength to make my own.

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Please note, we both made each other cry!

So, with this new journey I go forward with the strength of me, my mother, my matriarchal ancestors and Lita Ford. Rock Goddess. Whatever happens, our ancestors will be proud of our fight.

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