My greatest fear in life is that my Mam would get cancer.

I am not afraid to die. I don't imagine car or plane crashes or drowning at sea. I'm not afraid to fail or make mistakes. I have failed at many things and made more mistakes than I can keep track of. I'm happy in hindsight that I have, since I learnt more about myself through my mistakes and 'failings' that I ever would have if somebody had told me what a broken heart or poor judgement feels like. I am a stronger, better person that I was before.
None of these things instill fear in me. I even find the dark oddly calming, natural even.

Ever since I watched my grandmother wither away to a shadow of herself, enclosed in papery, milky skin, her body riddled with pain and hurt of cancer when I was eleven years old, my greatest fear became that my own mother would get cancer.
Not that she would die from it. Or suffer from it. Just that she would get it in the first place.
And now she has it.

In her beautiful, soft, comforting, mothering breasts. Breasts that fed me, breasts that were a warm cushion as a baby, as a child. Even as a teenager, some heartaches were too much to bear where I couldn't pretend like I didn't care anymore and needed my mother. Her violet blue shirts and warm cardigans wrapped around her chest soaked up my tears until no more could be shed. Ever since I was a little girl, I also associated my mother with this beautiful curvaceous chest of love and warmth.

On my birthday in March I felt invincible for the first time in my life. Everything that I had overcome had passed. I was where I wanted to be and surrounded by such love. For the first time everything had come together. Four days later, Mam told myself and my sisters that she had cancer. In her breast. And my world crumbled entirely. Without realising it, I was frozen to the ground with fear.
It's three months later and I only realised on Sunday the reality of the situation.

I haven't been able to function since that day in March. I have peeled myself off the mattress in the morning and talked my way to the train to get to work. My relationship nearly fell apart because I was a numbed, fearful shadow of myself within a matter of days of finding out. And it took me three months and finally discussing it in gulps of tears with my Mam to realise that my greatest fear has become a reality.

Now that that has happened, I feel that the universe must believe there are more lessons of life in store for me. Many, many other trials and tribulations will no doubt occur in my life, including during Mam's treatment. At least I can take comfort in the fact that even if I barely managed it, I'm still standing. I survived my greatest fear. Now I have to get through each day.

The next two days will test that theory.
Right now as I type, Mam is having both of her beautiful breasts removed, her fifth operation since March.
Tomorrow I'm going to the hospital to see her with her beautiful breasts having been permanently taken away. This is modern medicine and I don't understand it. How can scarring someone like this be modern and advanced? Nevertheless, we will work as a family with love and understanding to work at the rest.

If you've read my other posts, you may be wondering where my man has gone.
He never left.
Even through the last three months of turmoil, even when I thought he would never understand and probably couldn't begin to, he was holding my hand.
He kissed me on the forehead today. On the lips. He held my hand and when he hugged me I swear he was ten feet tall.

My mother may have breast cancer but she's a powerhouse, I've lived through my greatest fear and things will get better. I just have to keep believing that and take time for hugs and kisses and the holding of hands.