The Definition Of Cancer

A short Story - Based on true Life events I am nineteen years old, intelligent--a realist, capable of understanding more about life's calamitous tendencies than most my age--but this, I cannot fa

In the fourth grade we were introduced to the topic of Cancer. This was the definition given in the Oxford textbook:

"Cancer is a group of diseases involving abnormal cell growth with the potential to invade or spread to other parts of the body."

My fellow classmates talked throughout the lesson, some doodled and others were half asleep. I, on the other hand, sat straight up and listened. Not because I was an over achiever or top of my class�"No-- I listened to the simplicity of the definition given to this complex disease.

Thirteen years later, I remember that lesson just as the pale, hobbit looking Mrs. Jacobs had taught it. She was one of the most passionate Biology teachers I had come across.

I stand here looking at my mother--although she doesn't look like my mother. Fair skinned, fresh-full faced, abundant highlighted locks and eye catching smile.

No that's not her!

Here lies hollowed cheeks, pale faced, sunken eyes and pinched lips all set into a miniature head that's almost lost in the white continental pillow.

I try to analyze how, within seven months, this drastic change occurred.

I am nineteen years old, intelligent--a realist, capable of understanding more about life's calamitous tendencies than most my age--but this, I cannot fathom. 

A great crime has been committed!

The definition of this disease is incorrect!

July 3rd - 2a.m

We have not slept-my sisters and I- Jessie is fourteen and Brayden is ten.

Let me backtrack a bit...

I got on the first taxi home from work after a troubled call from Jessie saying my mother was struggling to breathe.

Once I arrive home, I find that my mother has a visitor, some Aunt we didn't see that often. My mother is laughing and talking to her, but I can see that she is in pain. It is time for her to take her double dose of Morphine and rest, but this woman will not leave!After half an hour I politely ask her to leave and explain why, fortunately she understands.

After she leaves my mother yells at me when I ask her to take her medication and I storm out crying�"I am tired and starting to lose hope--For the first time in seven months my mother asked for a solid meal and I was told that people on their dying beds ask for foods they haven't eaten in a while. So Jessie comforted me and told me to prepare supper while she bathes our mother.

I bake fish, fry potato wedges and toss together a green salad with olives, feta and lots of cucumber-- just as she requested.

She ate 2 large helpings and drank 2 glasses of apple juice.

She tries to sleep around 20:00pm--she can't lie down because she cannot breath and she can't sit up because of the pain that has consumed her entire body.

Her breathing is similar to that of a tractor loosing gas.

At 3:00a.m she tells me to take her to the hospital.

My sisters and I rush to get her washed and dressed; we call the ambulance then congregate in the lounge. We hold each other and cry.

The siren of the ambulance is maddening! Why does it sound so similar to a hearse? 

I get to the hospital with mom--just us two, they won't allow me in--damn government trash!

They sit at their desks, with their heaters and steaming hot Coffee, they are arrogant and entitled!I wonder why they chose to go into the medical field when they have no real interest, let alone passion for their Jobs. Of course anyone dealing with a large amount of people, who are rude at times, may become irate but why should all patients suffer because of the actions of another?

Humanity I have given up all hope in them. It seems we have taken ten steps back in evolution!

They wheel her into a cubicle and leave her there... No Oxygen, no Paperwork just a large heap of nothingness.They proceed to eat their early morning snack and get comfortable near their heaters. You cannot begin to understand my anger; half an hour in and nothing has been done!

The gentleman seated just two chairs away, is bleeding�"from the Head! He tells me he had arrived here three hours earlier!

His story gave me the final shove which sent me over the edge and I walk up to them and lose every bit of respect my mother had taught me. I did not want to be that person but this is unacceptable!

I continue to threaten to take them to the media, even court should my mother not survive

Yes I still had Hope, Hope for tomorrow, Hope for the year that followed and every year thereafter. Apparently Hope is the oil that keeps the machines of life running.

At this point one of the Nurses decides to get up and do her job! I begin filling in the paperwork while she attends to my mother. She inserts a drip and then wheels her out of my sight.

I also remind them about the poor man, the one sitting in the third row?

Sitting in almost sixty percent of his own blood?

Yes that man! Please be sure to check on him too!!! 

Two hours later I sneak in, she's lying in a fairly clean room, with an oxygen mask. She tells me to remove her gown and socks because she's hot. I have not seen a doctor and the nurses are of no help, as usual, not forgetting that I infuriated them a few hours ago.

I kiss her forehead and tell her I love her but she looks away. I begin walking, then turn back and demand that she tells me she loves me but she refuses. I've also been told the dying push those closest to them away... But I cannot handle this rejection! Not at this point, No. I think back, back to my childhood and how I would run out and throw my arms around her when she got home from work. She'd kiss me all over my face and squeeze me until I could barely breathe. Don't cry I tell myself, don't...

Guilt is eating at me because the adult diaper I put on for her is hurting but I cannot do anything because the nurses want me out. Six hours later I finally meet a Somalian doctor that tells me to take her home because the cancer is everywhere "I wouldn't be surprised if its spread to her brain too" he said. What he said made sense; to rather have her comfortable at home surrounded by the people she loves, not here among the rest of the incapacitated and ruined.

We drive home and we struggle to get her out the car--dead weight is what they call it right? But she's still breathing!

We eventually get her on the bed and I cannot hold back the tears any longer. She still does not want to look at me, let alone acknowledge my love.

She's no longer speaking.

Her eyes are closed.

I stare at her chest to make sure she's still breathing�"she is!

But I believe my eyes should be charged with treachery! They have done the unspeakable! Trickery, oh how they have fooled me!

Perhaps they are not to be blamed; perhaps my mind birthed the picture my heart longed to see.

Brayden hides outside behind her doll house and Jessie tries to comfort her while dealing with the same grief.

Cancer is the sly thief that's often only caught once he has taken everything, all thanks to countless poor investigations. One would think with the advancement of technology, this crime would be stopped, if anything its only progressed and become ever so common.

Cancer is watching the one that brought you into existence, wither away.

It's sleepless nights with agonizing cries of pain and suffering.

It's liquid diets and vomiting nothing but bile.

It's waking up at 3:30a.m, with an hours commute to arrive at the hospital by 5a.m.

It's queuing like sinners awaiting the Grim Reaper and his vile of red poison that supposedly burns and kills your hair.

It's getting to the front of the queue at 16:30pm and meeting an irked cavalier doctor that tells you there is no hope for treatment because her heart would not handle the poison--but they can hook her up to a blood bag for an hour and write a love letter to the pharmacist asking them for the medical equivalent of heroine for the pain.

It's leaving the hospital at 18:00pm, trying to lift the spirits of your loved one.

It's the repetition of this process, on a monthly basis, for seven months.

Cancer is lying on your mother's chest and begging her to open her eyes because you don't know how to look after your siblings on your own.

It's selfishly asking her to stay so she can hug you after a relentless day at work,

Or to give you advice after a bad break-up,

Or to give you something old or blue on the morning of your wedding

Or to see the smile of her first grandchild.

Cancer takes all of that away in one swift last breath.

My dear people solemnly I tell you this should be the definition of Cancer.

Author's Note

Hi everyone. Please let me know what you think about my Short Story.

Thanks,

Nakita Sequeira

Reviews

[EvaThornburn]

This story really touched my heart. My mother passed away from Breast Cancer a few months ago. She was 90 years old. People think at that age it really shouldn't matter any more....so sad. I like your story though sad, it captured my heart with so many emotions. Thanks, for sharing this. I look forward to reading more from you. Eva

[NakitaSequeira]

Firstly please accept my deepest sympathy. I am sorry for your loss.

Thank you so much for reading

[Kathy Van Kurin]

NakitaSequeira,
Bless you for giving this amazing narrative. You and your siblings have done an amazing thing in dealing with such an experience. We never really know what we are capable of until of necessity we must be there for a loved one. This dear lady, your mother did a fine job of raising you and you can be proud. I pray with time that her reality in your life will be as close as your deep inner soul that remembers her love for yourself and her other children.......I know you have heard it but I really did feel your pain.............Bless you as you maneuver this life and love too. I wish you lots of smiles and strength.........Kathy PS I hope you do not mind a new person reading your writing it was well thought out and descriptive as you made your voice clear.........a vulnerable piece like this.

[KT-B]

Hi, very well written heart-breaking story. I could totally relate after losing my dear mum to that b*****d cancer, luckily (or not) for us my mum only had a short battle after refusing treatment, she only lasted the week. Such a sad story I'm sure too many people can relate and the frustrations at the hospitals tells us there's something sadly wrong there too - I've known a few ladies and the young boy over the road who have lost their battle with cancer and left behind families, it's beyond cruel and makes one very angry - I think you write very well. Best wishes KT.