My mom asked me last week if I could find time to go to Hope House with her. They have a little shop there that has donated wigs and scarfs so she wanted someone with her to give her an honest opinion. I ended up not being able to make it to a Judge's conference at work today so I decided that I'd go on my lunch hour if she was free.

Last week she made some comments about knowing her hair was going to fall out because it was hurting (I laughed because, let's face it, we've all had that experience. You know, having a hang over so bad that your hair hurts? Yeah, been there). Then we got to talking about eyebrows and she told me that she needed my Dad to take a picture of her so that she could use it as a guide when she had to pencil her own in. I told her that I'd come over every day and do it for her, and for one low price I'd give her a different expression for each day! (Mom's angry eyebrows, surprised eyebrows, shocked....)

When I called her she said she'd be right over and we'd go; she was mad at herself for waiting so long to order her wig because, as she told me, her hair was "really coming out" and she needed something quickly.

She came in to the house when she got here, and in all honesty I couldn't tell her hair was at all thinner. It wasn't until  we went to leave and she turned around that I saw there was truly a spot on her scalp that was obvious. I didn't say anything, but I felt my heart begin to sink.

When we got to Hope House we got to the back and a wonderful woman named Robin led us to the wigs. We poked around a bit and my mom tried on some hideous styles. We laughed like crazy people, but inside I could feel my heart breaking. With each wig she tried on, long strands of her hair kept falling onto her shoulders. It got to the point where I had to pull the hair off until I had two fistfuls worth. She laughed, telling me that she likes to stand outside to help the birds get material for their nests, and I smiled, but could feel the tears well up in my eyes.  

I had to excuse myself after a few minutes because the burning in my throat got to be excruciating. It was as if right before my eyes she was becoming a cancer patient; a person who is truly fighting for their life. Where I could ignore it before, today it became tangible. It became real. As her hair continued to fall gently to the floor I realized that that "the last time" her hair didn't fall out. "Last time" she felt fine after every chemo treatment, and "last time" she beat the disease.  I realized today that "last time" wasn't going to be "this time". "This time" is going to be a totally different.

My mom did find a wig that she liked, as well as a hat, so it was a successful trip for her. However; for me it was  tragic. Today my mother became a victim. She became part of the cancer statistics, a piece of the puzzle that people are struggling to solve, another name to add to the list of people who suffer from this disease. She became one of the reasons people walk for a cure, a face in the crowd at support groups. The disease became real. 

Today I discovered, truly felt the truth, that my mom has Cancer. My mom is fighting for her life and there's not a damn thing I can do to help her. The outcome is determined and there is nothing that I can do to change it. This is something my Mom has to experience on her own, a battle she must wage, and I can't help her at all. Not one bit.