My mom is a renowned drama queen, a pessimist (although she denies that) and
occasional hypochondriac. Maybe that's not fair to say. She just tends to jump
to the worst conclusion possible. This has been a source of much huffing and
eye-rolling for me and my siblings. "Oh, MOM... I'm CAREFUL. Stop WORRYING!"
My sister, brother and I have always felt that her worrying and stewing over the
minutiae of our lives was unfounded. We have been largely untouched by tragedy
in our 30+ years. No major accidents. No broken bones. No addictions, no teen
pregnancies, no abductions or serious illnesses. Since becoming a mother, I've
found all sorts of reasons to worry. Holding my first born, a few hours after
her birth, it dawned on me that I am now responsible for the health and well
being of a little person. Now with three little people, I have lots of little
worries, and a few big ones. I still feel optimistic (but then, so does my mom.
Hmmm...) Back to my mom. This morning, she called me and told me that the
results of her recent thermography scan were not good. There are several major
hotspots in one breast, and several minor ones in the other. She's got a
mammogram scheduled for next month. She has recently begun treatment for high
blood pressure and suffered a bad reaction to a new thyroid medicine. Over the
last 15 years, she's had numerous episodes where her vision becomes temporarily
impaired. She has migranes. She has chest pains. She is scheduled for a
stress test next week. She is scared, as am I. My gut reaction has always said
"She's fine. She's FINE. It's just her worry talking." This time, I'm not so
confident. Whatever comes of these tests, we'll tackle as a family. It's
another set of worries on her heavy load. When I was a teenager, my mom lost a
good friend to breast cancer. It was a traumatic loss for her, and she vowed
that she would rather die quickly from the cancer than suffer the indignities of
chemo. This incensed me, selfish teenager that I was. Wouldn't she rather
fight it? We talked about that this morning. She tells me that she's met so
many cancer survivors now, and heard about so many alternative treatments that
she realizes that people don't just lay down and die now. I don't believe in
borrowing trouble. There is no official diagnosis here, just a nagging worry.
My mom is incredibly intuitive, another skill that caused exasperation for my
siblings. She could smell a lie before you even tried it out on her. I am
hoping that this time she is way off the mark. I feel awkward writing about
this. I'm not even sure how I feel about it. I tried to put a positive spin on
it this morning, but I'm not able to detach from it. I guess this is when worry
becomes a prayer. She'll be fine. She'll be FINE.