My mother, my best friend.

Throughout my seventeen years of life, my mother had always been there for me. She was my best friend. I felt as if I could tell her anything and she would understand. Mom was the rock that I leaned on, my guiding light as you could say. Mother and I had an unbreakable bond, one that a mother and daughter should have, although most do not. I thought that Mom could do just about anything. She was my hero and I thought nothing could ever happen to her.

In February of my junior year. I seemed to notice a change in Mom. She began looking ill. Mother looked sick and tired quite often. Never would she let on that something was wrong. Every time that I would ask, she would just smile and say “Baby, everything is okay. It’s just that I’m sick to my stomach.” I didn’t think much about it until she started vomiting. Dad and I thought that maybe she had caught a stomach virus. Therefore, we took her to the doctor. He believed it to be a stomach virus also and gave her some medication. It did not help. Days afterward, Mommy began violently throwing up a dark green color. Now we knew something was wrong. We couldn’t just omit the problem. With a stomach virus, you don’t throw up greenish looking substances. She couldn’t hold anything down her, not even water. I can vaguely recall laying awake at night, listening to her massive vomiting. It seemed as if she never had a break from being sick. I would cry and cry. I was terrified that Mommy wasn’t going to make it through those long, lonely nights. I hated seeing her like this. It shattered my heart into a million pieces. I too was sick to my stomach, only because she was.

Mother was hospitalized for the following weekend. The treatment she received there did not help. As soon as she was released, she became ill again. The violent vomiting started again and continued like before. We, the family, knew something was definitely wrong with her. But could not place what it was. We suspected that it could be cancer considering all the symptoms she was undergoing. Mom had had some symptoms before, but not near as many as she was having now. While at home one day, Mom took a turn for the worse. She began throwing up immeasurably. It got all over the carpet, the bathroom floor, and filled up the toilet. After she was done for the time being, she began sinking onto the bathroom floor. Immediately, Daddy called her cancer doctor Paul DePriest. We knew that he would know what to do.

Various tests were run on Mother. A gastroenterologist was brought in to examine her. The family doctor and Dr. DePriest were there also. I was so relieved that someone was actually doing something. I knew they were trying their best to find out what was wrong with her. I hoped and prayed that when we received the news, it would be good. My mom was so precious to me. I couldn’t bare to have anything bad happen to her. After a week of research, Mom was diagnosed with stomach cancer. Dr. DePriest seemed to think that the cancer would spread to her liver and elsewhere.

That Saturday night, she was sent by ambulance to University of Kentucky hospital. Here she would receive the best of care. Upon arriving at the hospital, fluids were forced into her system to see if she could hold them down. Everyone knew that this was not working. She was getting deathly ill. Next, a tube was ran down through her nose, reaching into her stomach. It drew up the greenish looking substance known as bile. All in all, I would say an estimated amount of three gallons was drawn out. This seemed to help. Still I feared that she would only get worse.

Two days later, the doctors called us from Lexington. We were told that surgery was needed. It was believed that cancerous tumors were blocking her bowels. Without the surgery she would not live. Everyone that we spoke to, even nurses, would tell us that those with her condition normally did not live long. I was even told that she would not live over a month. I was terrified that I would lose my mom. I cried and cried, until there were no more tears to cry. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I didn’t want to eat. I was secluded in my own world. If I couldn’t keep my mother, then I didn’t want anyone or anything. I was so heart-wrenched. It seemed as if no one cared or understood. I felt so alone, alone in a darkness where there could never be light. It seemed as if I was losing my best friend. Who would be there for me after that? She wouldn’t get to watch me graduate from high school and college. She wouldn’t be able to see me build my dream house. Mom would not even see me get married and have kids. What would I do without her?

Daddy gave permission for the surgery and came to school to pick up my brother Blaine and I. We were on our way to Lexington in horrendous fear that she would not live. On the way, I continuously prayed that God would spare my dear, sweet mother. My brother and I desperately needed her to live. After all, Mom was our life. Without her life seemed impossible and not worth living. Yes, we loved dad, but Mom was the one that I was close to. The one I had long talks with, foretelling my secrets, fears, hopes, and dreams. She was the one that I was excited to come home from school to everyday.

Before the surgery, Dad, my brother, our friend Brian, and I held her soft, tender, loving hands. We had a faithful prayer with her. I asked “Mommy, are you scared?” Her content reply was “ No, baby. I’m not scared. God has everything under control. It is my honest belief that he will let me live.” Shortly after speaking with her, she was transported downstairs for surgery. Having been there for a while, it seemed as if the surgery was taking too long. We feared the worst. To our surprise, a few moments later we were called in to have a word with Dr. DePriest. He said that Mom had done very well through the surgical process. We were told that several tumors were removed from her abdomen and stomach. Also, tumors that once were on her liver were removed. Dr. DePriest mentioned that he had removed at least four inches of Mom’s bowels that had malignant tumors on them. Soon we were told to go up to the room and await her arrival. I was so thankful God had let her survive through the surgery. I could not wait to see my precious Mother.

Finally, Mother woke up out of recovery. After she could speak from the surgery and the tubes ran down her throat, she told us of how much better she felt. She said, “I feel so much better. I no longer throw up. I still do not have much energy, but I will get it back. And I don’t have tumors protruding through my stomach anymore. See I told you that God would bring me through this.” I couldn’t help but shed tears of joy. Happy was I, Mommy had been taken care of.

Soon Mom began taking chemotherapy treatments after her surgical recovery. This time around, she wasn’t so ill. Medications were given to her to keep from getting so sick. I watched her hair fall out slowly through time. This was painful for me, but I knew it would do her good. For six months she took treatments. It was said at first that she would have to take a total of eight treatments, with hopes that the horrible disease would go into remission. In the beginning, we were told that Mom had a seventy-five percent remission rate and that the cancer could not be cured. All of us kept praying and believing that God would heal her. We had faith, but out of everyone Mother had the greatest of all. Never once did she worry. After all, if she did leave us, she knew that she was going to a better place.

In addition to the chemotherapy, she took procrit shots to build her blood up. While taking the shots, her blood still remained low. Every so often she had to have blood transfusions. Sometimes the enzymes in her blood would be hard to match up and they would have to fly in blood from states such as California. Still in all, she was doing much better than she had been before.

Mother, finally had her last chemo treatment. She went through bone marrow tests, CT scans and so much more. She survived the horrible disease lurking inside her. Many go through the battle one, but seldom do they go through it twice. It was devastating seeing her go through so much pain. When she was laying in the hospital bed, I would lay awake staring at her, thinking of her and cry all night. It broke my heart to see her go through so much excruciating pain. I was so terrified that I would lose her to death. Mommy lost so much weight, approximately fifty pounds in about a month. She looked as if death could take her at anytime. I would rather for me to have to go through it than her. She had been through too much already.

To my advantage, I got to keep my mother, for death had passed her by. She had won the victory. Hopefully, I will keep her for a very long time. I want to fulfill her dreams and mine. I can’t tell you how relieved I am that God spared her. Trust me, you don’t want to go through what I went through with my mother’s illness. It changes your whole perspective on life. All throughout life you worry about simple things. But when someone you really care about gets sick it changes your dreams, thoughts, and your everyday worries. All you think about it that person. Will they live? What will my life be like without them? You cherish every moment that you have with them, because you never know when it will be the last. Now that Mom has overcome her illness, she and I are much closer. I appreciate her so much more and I do everything that I can for her. I could never find a better friend than her.