Battle With Worry

The above title is actually the title of my first completed composition essay (remembering an event). I have nothing better to blog about, so I'm posting it on here. It's roughly 4 pages on Word, so it's a little long (just a heads up).



Of all the adult women I have ever met, I see my mom as one of the strongest; her mentality, emotion, and will power are all characteristics that show her tough shell. Only something like a natural disaster would ever cause me to feel like I needed to worry about my mom. This last summer happened to be when she first encountered the dilemma of “her boys,” my brother Cody and me, having to worry about her, and it happened to be one of the most practical yet scary reasons there could ever be.

On June 2nd, like most other lazy summer days, I was lying in my bed when two soft knocks sounded at my door, followed by an immediate turn of the doorknob. Since my mom has been the only person ever to enter my room that way, I knew she was the one behind the dark wooden door. Her expression as she opened the door instantly told me she was not having a good day. Knowing my brother Cody lie in his bedroom next to my own, my mom sat down, called his name, and asked him to shut the door after he entered.

Sitting down next to me on my bed, my mom began to tell us about a former problem she encountered. Some years ago, a lump had developed in her breast. She did not go to the doctor at the time to have it examined, and it eventually disappeared and ceased to bother her. Then, just a few months before this conversation, my mom had discovered a new lump. At first, she thought nothing of it, but she finally decided to hear the doctor’s opinion. That led to the conversation in my bedroom.

With her voice starting to crack and tears forming in her eyes, she said to my brother and me, “This time it’s cancerous.” I could not think of any time when I had seen my mom shed a single tear, so when she started crying, I knew she feared what would happen. Silent and worried, Cody and I choked back our emotions as we had been doing in tough situations for as long as I can remember.

After a few minutes in silence, the small refrigerator in the corner started with a hum, and my mom continued the conversation by telling us not to change our plans for the summer. Cody would still be traveling on a theater tour, and I would still be camping at Whitewater State Park with my youth group. Unlike my brother, I could have easily changed my vacation plans in order to be with my mom at the hospital in Mankato during her surgery. Instead, she insisted I still attend my camping trip, just as I expected.

Seeing as though Cody and I are both devoted to our belief in God, Mom asked us to pray. Not only would we pray that her surgery succeeded in its purpose, but we would also ask God for peace, courage, and a positive attitude for the three of us. Knowing we also had a large Christian community to utilize because of our involvement in Teens Encounter Christ, Cody and I later decided to ask those friends, through phone calls and e-mails, to pray for our family.

Finally, my mom exited my bedroom without saying another word. Cody, wearing a black t-shirt and the jeans he borrowed from me, scratched his chin as he continued to sit on my bed solemnly. I quickly realized he was having the same issue as me; we both wanted to say something, but neither of us had the right words. My head buzzed with loud thoughts that muted out the sounds of the television. Before either of us could think of the words that we hoped to say, Cody left in sheer silence.

Nearly two weeks later, I reluctantly started my camping trip. The hilarious car ride to Whitewater took my mind away from the bad news, and few thoughts about the situation entered my mind until Wednesday, the day my mom scheduled her mastectomy. Because of my worry, my breakfast that morning lacked taste. I knew my grandma had accompanied Mom to the hospital, but I still felt uneasy about not being there. “How will I know everything is going well?” I thought. Luckily, the arrangements to receive phone messages from my grandma were in order, but I had to travel almost four miles into the town of Alba to get a signal on my cell phone. My youth director took me aside on that warm Wednesday morning to pray with me; the words, “she is a strong woman,” flowed from her mouth during the prayer and sang to my heart like a beautiful chorus. An idea arose as we were finishing the prayer, and I chose to hike to a glorious cliff, appropriately named Inspiration Point, later that afternoon. I only hoped my phone would receive even a slight signal there so I could check my messages. My phone showed enough of a signal to make calls, but my voice mailbox was void of any message from my grandma. The desire to know whether the surgery ended successfully or not burned inside me like a wildfire; I called my grandma to find some information.

“The doctor said everything was perfect. They took out some lymph nodes, and they’re pretty sure they got all of the cancer,” Grandma said quickly. She then added, “Your mom’s asleep right now, but I’ll have her call you as soon as she’s awake enough to talk.”

Two hours later, as the sun began to set, I was still perched on the edge of Inspiration Point, sitting quietly in the presence of God, fighting the tears of joy creeping to the rims of my eyes, and glorifying the fact that the surgery went well. The steady vibration of my cell phone in my pocket brought me out of that euphoria and back into reality. A huge smile stretched across my face as I answered the call from Mom. After deciphering her quiet, raspy voice for fifteen minutes, she told me it was time for her to receive a check-up and some medication, ending our conversation.

Before she lost all of her hair, my mom donated it to Locks of Love. The rest began to fall off of her head quickly, so she chose to have her head shaved instead. Seeing my mom without any hair continues to be somewhat of a strange experience, but I know she is bald because of the treatment that is helping her. Anxiously, my mom counts down the days until the end of her treatment, and at the same time I think about the reasons she, Cody, and I stayed so strong during the ordeal. My mom admits she would do anything in the world for my brother and me and that she sees us as the most important part of her life. Similarly, my brother and I have had to grow up fast and be strong adults because we have lived without a father figure in our house for nine years. She may have to “worry about her boys” more than we need to worry about her, but I believe Cody and I have an unending need to protect our mom during troubling times because we had to rise to the level of mature adults quickly. Mom has continuously shown a strong mentality, emotions, and will power, but all in all she stays strong for “her boys.”