It was a Thursday afternoon at about 4:00 and I had just come home and started working on my homework. I was assiduously working on my school computer and my sister tranquilly surfed the web on the home computer on the desk to the left of me. Dad was watching TV in the living room and my brother was upstairs in his room. It was like any other after-school routine, but Mom came home from work late that day. She had an enigmatic smile on her face when she greeted us. After she settled her stuff down, her and dad brought my brother, sister, and I into the living room and we sat together on the two couches. “I have some news…” she said and I sensed a nervous vibe.
“What is it mom?” my sister asked.
“Well… I might get cancer, unless I get an operation.”
We all sat there in shock as mom elucidated to us how she came to have the probability of getting cancer. She would get surgery to remove some of her internal organs that could eventually become cancerous. Her operation was in just two weeks and she had never been through something as crucial as this before.
When she was finished speaking, I asked, “Are you going to be ok?”
“I’ll be just fine…” She replied.
Mom tried to counterfeit the story so that it didn’t seem a big deal, when in all honesty, this operation could determine the rest of her life. After telling us her news, she went about everyday with the same routine with a blissful smile on her face like always. But it was apparent that she was incessantly growing more and more apprehensive. It was getting to the rest of us too.
The night before the operation day, when mom had already gone to sleep, I heard a knock on my door. It was my dad.
“Hey dad what’s up?”
“Can I talk to you for a minute before you go to sleep?” he asked.
“Sure,” I told him.
“You know, you’re mom told you guys that she wasn’t scared for the operation and that she was glad for it. But she was crying tonight because she is really scared for it, so please be as supportive as you can with this.”
I thought to myself, Mom is like that. She always makes sure we don’t worry about her because all she cares about is her children and taking care of ourselves without any distractions. She wants us to know that she can take care of herself too.
The next day, my dad picked my sister and I up right after school ended so that we could go visit mom who had the surgery earlier that day. Not one word was spoken in the car between us three, though my mind was filled with thoughts and questions. What did they do? How long did it take? Did it go well? I’m sure my sister and dad felt the same way.
We finally reached the room where my mom was resting but she was still asleep, so we just sat on the side of her bed, waiting. The lights were dim, the TV was still on, quietly playing a soap opera, a drape ran around the room, blocking viewers from outside the room, and I could even hear the air-conditioner as soft as it was through the silence. There was a tray with a little glass bowl of jello and a small, half empty paper cup of water on it on the side of the bed opposite us. I noticed a box of chocolates and some cards on the table by where we were sitting, so I presumed that people had already come to visit earlier today. The last time I had actually been in a hospital room like this was a long time ago. It felt different in there. I couldn’t wait for mom to wake up so that I could talk to her and see how she was doing.
A couple minutes later, one of her doctors came in. When he told us that the operation was a success and that she would have a good recovery, a flow of relief drifted through me.
Mom wasn’t supposed to be able to walk for about a week or two after the operation, but was getting up from bed and going up and down the stairs by herself within a couple of days. I realized then, that mom wasn’t just a strong woman at home, but she was mentally and emotionally tough and could take care of herself and made sure that her children didn’t have to worry about her. She showed us how to really be strong.