Life as I know it chapter 2

Brain tumor.

Hearing that, my brain shut down, but not enough to save me from hearing all the other bad things about my mom's condition. I still heard the words inoperable, terminal, and the stupid estimate of time she has left: three months at best. How sweet of him to add the 'at best' to the end of three months. What the fuck does he know? The asshole doctor didn't even show any emotions; he was stoic. He gave my mom her death sentence so matter-of-factly that you would think he delivered that kind of news every day.

I heard my mom crying, and I so wanted to just take her in my arms and make the pain go away . . . make IT go away, but I couldn't move. It was like I was watching everything from a distance; like I wasn't actually a part of it. I would like to say I cried with her, but I was numb. Well, ok, not completely numb; I was angry; not at my mom, but at the uncaring doctor; at every other doctor she saw, who didn't even try to find a cause for her migraines; just threw a bunch of prescriptions at her, telling her that 'this one should work'. I wanted someone to blame, but it doesn't matter; blame won't make IT go away.

When it was all over, I held my mom close, as we slowly walked out of the doctor's office; like, as long as we hadn't left the hospital, IT didn't exist; as long as we didn't go back to our life, everything was ok.

Ethan had been sitting in the Waiting Room. When we got there, I'm sure the look on our faces told him that something was seriously wrong. You could almost see the internal struggle play out on his face . . . about whether he wanted to hear it or not. Ethan is almost as close to my mom as I am. His family isn't very affectionate, and they don't give him very much attention; so my mom has kind of taken over, and makes up for their indifference.

I just shook my head at him, and motioned with my head to follow us, and he did. My mom stopped when we reached the doors of the hospital, and I knew she was feeling the same as I was . . . that once we left the hospital, it all became a part of reality, a reality that we didn't want any part of, the end of life as we both know it.

I squeezed my mom's shoulder, and gave her a kiss on the cheek, and then I looked her in the eyes and tried to pass some strength onto her; strength that I wasn't feeling myself. She gave me a small smile, took a deep breath, and took the first step into the shitty reality we now faced.

The drive home was silent. When we got there, we just sat in the car for a minute, staring at the house that I have lived in for as long as I can remember; two story, painted white, with a garden of flowers in front, carefully taken care of by my mom. It was beautiful. I looked over at her, and I could tell she was looking at the flowers, also; and I also saw peace in her eyes. I don't know how she can feel at peace with dying, and I was surprised to feel anger at that, but I hid it well, and I asked her, "You ready?"

"Yes," she replied, and I got out of the car and went around to open the door for her.

When we got inside the house, my mom turned to me and said, "Honey, I think I'll go up and take a nap. Take some money out of my purse, and get some food for you and Ethan."

"Ok, mom. Are you going to be ok?" Ok, I know, stupid question; of course, she won't be ok, but I just felt the need to ask her that.

"Yes, baby, I'll be fine." She walked over to me, took my face in her hands, and said, "Go out with your boyfriend; don't worry about me. I love you; go have fun." She hugged me tight, and I sort of melted into her. I took a deep breath, breathing in her scent, and I couldn't help but wonder how many more times I would be able to do that. I willed that thought to leave my head, and just enjoyed the hug. I don't know how long we stood there hugging, but it wasn't long enough; it would never be enough; not now, not when time was so limited. When she let go of me, she told me to bring her back something to eat, and started up the stairs to her room.

I took some money from her purse, turned to Ethan, and said, "Let's go." I couldn't decide what I was feeling at that point, so I decided not to say anymore. As we were driving to a local diner, Ethan kept glancing at me with a concerned expression, but I just couldn't talk about it right now; so I stayed quiet. We arrived at the diner and took our seats, and then ordered. As we waited, I stared out the window, trying to avoid Ethan's questioning looks; but, by then, it had turned into more than just glances; now he was just staring, not bothering to look away. Our food arrived, but I wasn't really hungry; I just played with my fries, and ignored Ethan's stares. My mind was reeling from all the thoughts in my head; what if she had been more forceful with the Doctors? What if they would have actually searched for what was causing the migraines? How long does she really have? What will happen to me? To Ethan? The last two questions made me feel selfish, and mad at myself, and I threw the fry I had in my hand onto the plate, and finally looked up at Ethan, still staring at me.

"What?" I snapped.

"I-I just want to know what's wrong with her." He looked away, but not before I saw the tears in his eyes.

I placed my hand on his arm. "I'll go get my mom her food, and then we'll talk, ok?"

He nodded.

"Meet me outside," I said, as I made my way over to the counter to order the food. Once I had her food, I left, and found Ethan already inside his truck, waiting. I took a deep breath, and got in the truck.

"Let's go to the park," I said.

How do you tell someone that the one person who treated you more like a son than your own parents, the one who has been there for you for as long as you can remember, the one who loves you like a second son, is dying? I can't even deal with it; how do I expect him to?

When we got to the park, I left her food in the truck, and stepped out, with Ethan following behind me. Finding a bench in front of the pond, I sat, and then looked up to see Ethan just standing there.

"Sit…please."

He hesitated, and then sat next to me.

I sat looking out at the pond; finally, after what seemed like a long time, I took a deep breath

"It's cancer."

I heard him gasp, and then he stuttered, "B-b-but they can do something right? Chemo? Radiation? Surgery? They will make her better…r-right?

"No, it's…it's too late. There's nothing that they can do. She's going to...." Clearing my throat, I realized that I couldn't say the "d" word out loud.

"NO! She can't be! We'll get a second opinion," Ethan said.

"No, they called in two other doctors to review everything."

We both fell silent, each in our own thoughts, until it started to get dark.

"We should get back; she's probably wondering where her food is," I said, laughing lightly. The woman loves her food.

The drive home was just as silent. When we got to the house, we found my mom sitting in her favorite chair, watching TV.

"Where have you been? I'm starving!" she said, smiling at us.

Ethan walked over and gave her a hug, and then turned around and ran up the stairs.

"Oh, Kyle; you had to tell him so soon?"

"I'm sorry, mom, but he knew something was wrong; I couldn't lie to him."

I sat on the arm of her chair and leaned into her.

"Oh, here's your food."

"Gee, thanks! Just what I wanted - a cold, soggy cheeseburger." She moved so fast, I couldn't react; and the next thing I know, I'm across her lap, laughing hysterically, as she tickled me. She eventually stopped, and I sat up, still trying to catch my breath."

Hugging her, I said, "I love you, mom."

"I love you, too.

"I'm going to go check on Ethan."

"Ok, honey. Oh, Kyle, we are going to go see your grandpa tomorrow, so don't stay up too late."

"Ok, mom."

I went up to my room, and opened the door slowly. There, lying on my bed, was Ethan; asleep. He never bothers to tell his parents when he is staying the night, so I didn't try to wake him; I just got undressed, and slipped in next to him. He unconsciously moved closer to me, and I wrapped an arm around him and tried to go to sleep.

Instead, I lay awake, with what seemed like a million thoughts swirling around in my head. Then it hit me; my mom is dying! She only has, at most, three months. Three months is nothing; it goes fast! Shit! What will happen? Will she suffer? Oh, God! The tears that had refused to appear; came, and they came fast and hot, down my cheek. Not wanting to disturb Ethan, I turned away from him, putting some space between him and me. I buried my head in my pillow to stifle the noise I was trying desperately not to make.

I felt Ethan move closer, and felt his hand around my stomach, and his lips on my neck, kissing me lightly, like he always does when I'm upset. I felt his tears on my neck, and I turned around to face him. We grabbed each other, both crying, and wrapped our arms around each other, offering unspoken support to the other.

The next thing I know, my mom is knocking on the door, telling me it's time to get up. I looked over at Ethan, to find he was still asleep. I didn't want to wake him, so I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote a note, telling him that we are going to visit my grandpa.

I took a quick shower, and got dressed, and then went down to the kitchen to find my mom drinking coffee.

"You ready? I thought we would go get breakfast on the way."

"Yes. Ethan's still sleeping, and I didn't want to wake him, just to tell him to go home."

"Ok, let's go."

Breakfast was silent, both of us stuck in our own thoughts. I wasn't looking forward to our visit with grandpa. I knew exactly why we are going . . . she is going to tell him about her. For a minute, I wished I didn't have to go; that I wouldn't have to witness how upset he would get; but, just as quickly, I realized that I should be there, if nothing else but to offer support.

After we finished eating, we made our way over to the nursing home; down the hall and to the right, like we've done more times than I can count, but this time, there was a sense of dread, as we walked slower than we normally would.

"My two favorite people in the world, come to visit an old fuck like me? Why, I don't know what to think."

"Dad!" "Grandpa!" we both said at the same time, slightly embarrassed, and yet entertained by his language.

"Come here and give me a hug."

We did what he asked, and then sat down. I winced, because I knew what was coming next.

"So, dad, are they still treating you ok?"

"Why yes; that morning nurse is a good looking lady. I tell you, she flirts with me. Can you believe that? Flirting with an old fart like me?"

I couldn't help but laugh at him, despite what I knew was coming.

"What are you laughing at, son?" he asked, laughing.

"Nothin', grandpa," I said, still laughing.

"How's my other grandson?"

"He's at home, sleeping."

"Well you tell your boyfriend that he better come with you the next time you come visit me."

"Ok, grandpa."

I heard my mom take a deep breath, and I knew that this is it.

I reached over and squeezed her arm in silent support.

"Dad, I have something to tell you, and I don't even know how to begin."

"Just tell me. Out with it; it's the only way."

"Well, you know how I've been having migraines a lot over the past several months?"

He nodded.

"Well, about a week ago, I collapsed; fainted, I guess, and Kyle insisted I go to the hospital. They did some tests and, yesterday, we got the results. Dad, I-I," she cleared her throat, and grandpa immediately looked even more concerned than he already did.

"It's a brain tumor, dad. It's terminal."

I heard grandpa gasp, and then he rushed to my mom and hugged her tightly. They stayed like that for a while, and then grandpa pulled me into the hug, too.

"We'll get through this, you hear me?" grandpa said.

She nodded, and then he pulled away.

"Kyle, I want some chocolate. Can you go get me a brownie from the cafeteria? Get yourself one, too. Here's some money."

I knew he wasn't asking, and I knew that he just wanted me out of the room for a while. Little did I know, their conversation would be the start of the end of life as I know it.

I took my time getting the brownies, and by the time I made it back to his room, they were sitting quietly; my grandpa had this determined look on his face, and my mom looked like she couldn't decide whether to be pissed or worried.

Grandpa noticed me first, and he asked, "Do you have my brownie, son?" He said it so softly, and with such concern that I knew I couldn't hide my surprise. I had only ever heard that tone once before . . . when I came out to him. He is normally a loud and funny man.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, bring it here. I've been wanting one of these all day."

I walked over to him and handed him his brownie, and then my mom stood up and said it was time to leave. She walked over to my grandpa, and hugged him for a long time, before she turned and left the room. I started to follow, but grandpa stopped me by grabbing my arm softly.

"Son, whatever happens, whatever…whatever decisions are made, promise me, you won't make it any harder on your mom than it already is, ok? She…we only want what's best for you. Can you do that? Try not to argue with her."

I know I showed my confusion, but I nodded and said, "I promise, grandpa."

"That's good; love you, son. Tell Ethan that he better get his ass here soon."

"I will; I love you, too, grandpa."

I gave him a hug and left.

The next month went by faster than I wanted it to. Everything was normal; I went to school, came home, spent time with Ethan, and went to football games. I did everything I usually do, except I knew that things would change soon.

A couple of days ago, I noticed that my mom was starting to shake almost constantly, and that she seemed clumsy. It was like a punch to the stomach. She acted like it was nothing, waving her hand in a dismissive way, but I knew better.

Today, I got home to find my mom sitting in her chair, looking nervous.

"Mom?"

She looked at me and said, "Sit down, please."

I sat down, and she took my hand and said, "You know that you are going to have to live with someone else when I…when I'm gone, right?"

I nodded, and said, "I thought maybe I'd live with Ethan."

"No; Ethan doesn't even spend much time there; it won't work. I'm sorry, Kyle. I'm sorry this is happening to me, but I'm even sorrier that I have to take you away from all that you know, but, I have to do what's best for you. Kyle, for the last few weeks, I've been searching for your father. Son, I've found your father."