Mom

We usually don't witness death firsthand. Loved ones get carted away in ambulances and a faceless yet caring nurses takescare of the bedpans and morphine. My mother didn't want to go to a hospital. Mainly because she didn't believe she was dying.

Instead, I watched her struggle with breath while she breathed pure oxygen through a mask. Her cancer was spreading. It had begun in her cervix. Most women catch cervical cancer early, detected in their yearly pap smears. My mother only visited the doctor if she had been in a car accident. It was almost too late by the time she had finally decided to visit a doctor. Her weight loss and unexplained spotting making her realize it may be time to seek out answers. The doctor told her that a hysterectomy would be the only way to stop the disease from continuing. My mother weighed her options. Even though she was fifty and would not be able to have another child, she decided to not have the full surgery. She felt as if she was losing her womanhood and she would not be able to survive without that. It was one of the many bad decisions that the women in my family were famous for making.

She had chemotherapy. Her hair started falling out in big clumps and then she just shaved her head to avoid watching all the hair fall away. I bought her a wig but it made her head itch.