Facing the Constant Questions After Her Diagnosis - "How's Your Mom?"

I have to admit, sitting here at the computer, 7 years after my mom's breast cancer diagnosis, my memories have started to lose their clarity. Not in the events themselves, but their chronology has become tangled together; vines on a wall so to speak. I'm not sure when it began, but I know the constant questions were the first challenge.

I can remember once, it must have been in the summer because in my memory the sun is out and I'm standing on a soccer field, I'm alone looking over the field and a few other kids have arrived on the other side. They're sitting around putting on their cleats. My coach is on the other side of the field as well, but when he sees I'm already there, he starts off in my direction.

At the time I wasn't thinking about my mom. I didn't have her disease proverbially weighing heavily on my mind. There wasn't any storm.

In my memory it was sunny and I was about to begin a normal practice just like any other. But my coach walked up and instead of joking around or talking some jive about my different colored soccer socks, he just looked at me for a second. Then, just before it got awkward, he asked me if my mom was alright.

He just looked up and said, "Hey, how's your mom."

At first I couldn't think what he was talking about.

"Um, fine probably," I said.

"When she start treatment, soon?"

It was at that moment my brain clicked into drive and I started to feel uncomfortable. Not like I was being examined; more like when a teacher calls on you but you haven't done the reading so you just start to BS about something you saw in the title.

"Oh, yeah... Yeah I think it starts pretty soon now."

"Oh well that's good. Want to get things taken care of. Good to find out early."

I didn't say anything for a second so he quickly changed the subject.

"Well, you better get over there. Get some ‘five on two' going until some more us are here."

"Okay."

I avoided the questions for some time longer. I know I was able to forget about that moment in the bustle of my teenage life, but soon more people started finding me across fields, on my way out of class or walking home, and they started asking me as well, "How's your mom?"

The awkwardness of not knowing the answer never led me to ask the question for myself. The awkwardness just led to frustration. "Fine, she looks fine, she still goes to work everyday," I'd tell myself when they left.

But of course that could only last for so long, because eventually, she didn't look fine anymore. And eventually, she wasn't at work every day.

Photo compliments of Katie@!