Sandra Murrin

"I am getting married this year and my Mom's biggest fear is wearing something that shows her scar tissue to the other guests. My biggest fear is not having her there. She can wear a bikini to my wedding for all I care. If anyone asks, I'll stand in front of her, shielding her, and tell them she fought a shark and WON."

 

My Mom has cancer.  Not the kind that makes headlines or newspapers. She fought breast cancer as a single mother of two small children when I was a little girl (I'm 46 this year) and WON. Now, she has to fight Liposarcoma, a silent growing cancer that ruins her thighs, buttocks, arms, and back.  She doesn't complain.  She doesn't cry – at least around us.

Week after week, my Mom get pieces of her removed, lost, taken away by "safe margins,” only to have them come back again in different places on her body. This year the surgeries are much closer together and she is tired. She sleeps more often and has lost weight. When I talk to her on the phone she says she's been "sick" and is trying to "get over it," but I know the truth.  I make  jokes to hear her laugh, telling her that she's only faking so she can have a sexy Oncologist feel up her legs, and she does laugh but only for a minute. 

The seriousness and deadliness of her cancer doesn't escape me but I am helpless to change what she has. I can only make what is so bad, funny and silly so she doesn't stop fighting and keeps talking to me on the phone every week. We live 3 provinces apart and it is killing me that I can't stop what is happening.  She is only 67. 

I am getting married this year and my Mom's biggest fear is wearing something that shows her scar tissue to the other guests. My biggest fear is not having her. She can wear a bikini to my wedding for all I care.  If anyone asks, I'll stand in front of her, shielding her, and tell them she fought a shark and WON.

 

Sandra Murrin, Alberta Walker

 

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