My mom and I celebrated her 82nd birthday a few days ago.
I took her out for lunch.
But it wasn’t easy.
The lunch part.
I arrived at her assisted living facility at 11:15.
As I said I would.
And I asked her where she wanted to go.
As I always do.
She said anywhere.
As she always does.
So I decided to take her to a great little breakfast place.
Right around the corner from where she lives.
Only one problem.
She’s 82.
And at 82, 11:15 is not breakfast.
11:15 is lunch.
6:15 is breakfast.
So when we got to that breakfast place we asked for their lunch menu.
That’s when they pointed to the back page.
My mom was in the mood for a little soup.
And a little salad.
Which was perfect.
Because one of the (few) lunch choices on the menu was 1/2 soup and 1/2 salad.
So that’s what she ordered.
Just one problem.
They were out of lettuce.
Really.
What restaurant runs out of lettuce?
A breakfast restaurant.
That’s who.
My mom was not thrilled with this revelation.
But at 82 you go with the flow.
So she ordered the 1/2 sandwich and 1/2 soup.
She wanted a turkey sandwich.
Only they didn’t have turkey.
Really?
Really.
Really!
By this point my mom had enough.
So we politely stood up.
Said thank you.
And headed back to the car.
Fortunately there was a Mexican restaurant a mile away that worked just fine.
We got seated immediately.
Which was good.
And within moments, she locked right in on what she wanted.
Tacos.
With rice and beans.
And to our surprise, they were actually in stock.
Ole!
Honestly I didn’t really care what was on the lunch menu.
I just cared that I was having lunch with my mom.
On her birthday.
It wasn’t too long ago that celebrating another one of my mom’s birthdays felt like a bit of a long shot.
In March, the doctors told her that they had found a mass on her kidney.
In April they called it Kidney Cancer.
Believe it or not, that diagnosis didn’t sit well with her.
It didn’t sit well with me either.
But while I remained hopeful.
And optimistic.
My mom did not.
In fact it sent her into quite a tailspin.
And what made it worse was the doctors recommendation.
Wait six months.
See if it grows.
And deal with it then.
Easy enough.
For them.
Not easy enough for her.
Six months is a long time.
Especially when you’re not sure if you have six months.
I had to talk her off the ledge several times.
Which is a lot easier than it sounds.
After all, she’s in her 80s.
Bipolar.
And she lives on the third floor of her building.
Thankfully I’ve never heard the doctors tell me I have cancer.
But she has.
Now.
And as hard as I tried to tell her I know how you feel.
I don’t know how she feels.
But I told her that worrying about things you can’t control is a waste of energy.
Pretty much the same advice she had given me when I was growing up.
But the shoe had switched to the other foot.
My parent needed some parenting.
And plenty of support.
Now she was the one who needed a shoulder to cry on.
And she was the one who needed the “everything is going to be ok” speech.
Even if I wasn’t sure that everything was going to be ok.
But despite some sleepless nights.
And sleepless days.
She made it through the six months.
Until it was time for that next cat scan.
Which took place a few weeks ago.
And after six long months, the result showed nothing.
Nothing.
... that’s good.
Nothing had changed.
Nothing had grown.
Nothing had developed.
Nothing.
My mom was unsure at first what the doctors were saying.
That’s the 82 kicking in.
But upon further review, reality set in.
In a good way.
She used words like “really happy” and “very exciting” and “good news.”
Words I hadn't heard out of her mouth in a while.
At least six months.
The doctor told her that she doesn’t need to come back for another year.
Giving her the best birthday present we could've asked for.
