This Mother’s Day is going to be particularly tough.
It has been several months, almost a third of a year since my mother died. She keeps coming back to me in weird ways.
I keep the mask she used for radiation in my studio. It’s a deceptively beautiful object this mask, formed specifically to match the contour of her face. The reason for this is so that they could keep her head perfectly still; it was bolted down onto the table she was placed on. This way the blasts of radiation could be perfectly targeted to specific points on her brain. In my mom’s case it was not that specific, her cancer was all over her brain, like a shotgun blast of cancer. They essentially carpet bombed her brain with radiation. I know this was horribly painful, as her scalp became bright red by the end of the process. It was really the only aspect of her decline where she openly expressed pain.
The reason I am posting this, and describing this, is that my mother’s cancer metastasized from a cancer that started in her lungs. The kind of cancer that my mother had was directly related to the years and years of smoking that she did. The oncologist was a specialist in lung cancers, and he told me as much. It can also be caused my second hand smoke as well. I would have had a significantly better chance of celebrating Mother’s Day for her this year had she just not smoked.
If you have kids and you smoke, stop it.
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