Perspective

I’m writing this while sitting up.in my childhood bed, in my childhood room, in my childhood home. It’s kind of amazing how all I need to do is set foot in my parent’s house and I can feel myself regress. We all fall into our old patterns from when I was a teenager, with my dad gently scolding me about needing to eat more vegetables, and my mom warning that I push myself too hard. And both of them still wondering if I’m dating someone I’m not telling them about.

But the biggest difference on this visit is that I have no choice but to feel like an adult. I’m here to go to a chemo treatment with my mom, and I had to stop myself from gasping in shock when I first saw her. My parents aren’t ones for Skype or FaceTime, so while I’ve been talking to them regularly for months, I haven’t actually set eyes on them since I went to my mom’s very first chemo treatment with her four months ago. And now I regret not coming back sooner. She’s lost a lot of weight and just seems diminished … smaller. It’s terrifying.

Thankfully her attitude doesn’t seem to have changed. She’s still determined to beat this thing, and she seems like she still has a decent amount of energy. But that didn’t stop my Aunt Patty — mom’s sister — from making me feel like shit when she picked me up from ISP. Going on and on about “Why’d you have to move across the country?” and “Can’t whatever it is you do be done from New York, for god’s sake?” I kindly reminded her that Big Sis was also in California … with my parents’ only two grandchildren. But honestly, trying to deflect Patty’s wrath onto Big Sis’ didn’t make me feel any better, or less guilty.

We have to be at the hospital early, and it’ll be 3 hours earlier to this poor jet-lagged body and mind of mine. Luckily mom left dear old Flopsy on my bed (my beloved, battered bunny from back in the day). It’s weird how this little stuffed animal is so oddly comforting to a grown-ass woman. But I’ll take it. It’s times like these that I’m glad mom doesn’t throw anythingout.