Scratch the To-Do List

I can't speak for anyone else in my life, but I know I have been slightly holding my breath since the end of February.  That’s when Mom first discovered her lump.  The lump that turned out to be a massive tumor on her thyroid that had spread to her lymph nodes.  The lump that put the word cancer in my immediate family. 

Since Mom and I returned from Mayo that first week in May after her treatments, she has been living life.  We all have been living life.  It’s just that every once in awhile, I catch my breath and panic.  Panic at the thought of it spreading.  Panic at the thought of bad news.  It’s at those moments when the realization of my mom has cancer sets in.  It’s something we all just want to be done and go away; it is a longer process than any of us imagined.   

I know she thinks about it too; I can sense it when I’m around her.  It seems that when a person’s mind and body has to persevere through cancer, they change.  Of course they change.  They are faced with mortality and uncertainty.  Mom has changed in little ways; sometimes, I can see the look on her face when she is with her grandkids and I can feel the difference with how she shows and teaches me.  It’s like she wants to make sure I know.  That we all know.     

But, I marvel at how much my mom hasn’t changed.  She still is everything.  Still running the farm books to perfection, still baking homemade bread and buns, still sewing and quilting, still chasing after Sister Pister and her rodeos and horses, still coming to rescue me when I mess something up and don’t know what to do, still helping Dad-o in the field or in the shop, still loving on her grandbabies, still planning, still keeping the peace, still making sure everyone is taken care of...still everything.  Her shoulder is slumped from the neck dissection while she’s being everything and I think she’s in more discomfort than she’ll ever let on, but that doesn’t stop her. 

That’s why my breath catches.  Because of the power of my mom and the fear of that power missing. 

Mom has been having a skin issue in her neck area and it’s been a bit of a worry to us all...wondering if it was a sign of something.  So, Mom’s doctor here sent blood work to Mayo for Dr. Type A to analyze the “numbers.”  Now, I’m not a doctor and I don’t know what the “numbers” mean, but I do know that Mom stood in my dining room the other day with me holding my breath and said, “It’s good.  They are good.  So good I might not have to get treatment in November.  Maybe.  But, I'll still have to go back again for more treatment after the first of the year to hopefully get the last of it." 

My breath let go.  Just a little.

A couple days ago, Sister Pister {and her trusty four-legged companion Gunner} attended a goat tying clinic in a small town not far from here.  Mom called me that morning and said, “Do you want to come and pick me up and we can go for lunch at that little quilt shop I wanted you to see?”  At first, I thought of the hundreds of pictures I had taken for others in the last few days that needed my attention and said, “Ooooo, I just don’t think I can make it.  I’ll call you in a little bit and let you know for sure.” 

Then, I started on my “to-do” list for that day.  Then, I wondered what the sam hill was wrong with me.  Then, I called Mom back and said, “Yes, I’ll be there.  Let’s do it.”

This little quilt shop is located in an old, antique building in a small town and I loved everything about it...from the tin moldings and ceiling to the bolts of beautiful fabric to the lack of fountain pop.  It is my kind of place and Mom knew it would be. 

We had a yummy little lunch and then a fabric shopping we went.  Mom and I may not be the best combination to be in a fabric store; we both can get caught up in the beauty and the ideas of projects running through our heads.  And, then the next thing you know I find myself saying, “Maybe you should just buy the whole bolt.” 

And, then I find myself saying, “This fabric makes me want to have a baby.”  {Then, I feel my forehead to make sure I am alright.} 

And, then I find myself saying, “I don’t know what I want to turn this into yet, but I must have it.” 

And, then I find myself saying, “Do you think Dad-o has any idea how much money we spend on fabric?” 

And, then I hear Mom saying, “No.  Definitely no.  And, we’ll keep it that way.” 

Good plan Momma Debi.  Good plan.   

We spent a solid couple of hours filtering through the colors and textures and patterns and yes, we ended up buying up some new projects.  Then, I dropped Mom back off at the arena where Sister Pister was riding, learning, and getting sunburned.  I watched her make a few runs and I’m proud of how far she’s come with Gunner this summer.  They’ve been working hard and it’s paying off.   

And, on the way home, I couldn’t help but think...I’m so glad I let my “to-do” list go unattended today.  It was a best day ever and those are my favorite kind.