My mom’s cancer is coming back. I have just been told by my family back in China a week ago. She was doing fine for a year and half after the operation and chemotherapy. This time, the survival chance is slim. She is just 56.
I keep thinking about this day and night, voluntarily or involuntarily. Why? Why her? In the end I could only blame the genes, because it’s not just her in our family. It’s my grandfather, my uncle, me and maybe my grandmother as well, so far. I have friends about my age who is having or about to have burn out from work, kids and housework. They talk about how tired they are, how they would like to take a break like my husband just did, and how they really couldn’t. I also have friends who have taken a year or so to spend more time with kids, family, travel, personal health and hobbies, and nobody ever regretted that. Before my husband took a break from work, he hesitated a lot. He worried mostly about not being able to find a job that could match his current one, both financially and intellectually. His body persuaded him. It has been giving him signals for years. We did the math about not having any income for a year and cut down some very marginal and neglectable expenses. We were very worried and felt insecure and unsure before we made the decision, but after the decision was made, we were fine. The sky didn’t fall. Life didn’t change, well, it actually changed a lot, but for the better. He got tons of time to nurture both his body and soul, to bond with kids. It’s nice to be able to enjoy this incredibly rare September/October sun in Seattle, to look forward to the 2-month long stay with our family in Europe. When I just had kids, I dreamed about traveling around the world with my husband after kids would have gone to college. I drooled on the travel magazine pictures where stylish silver-haired couples strolling down a cobblestone alley hand in hand, and I comforted myself in pajamas and tangled oily hair: “There is time. There is hope. Just be patient.” Then I learned about the health news of myself, of my mother, and of my husband, and in my early 30s, I realized that there might not be time. I might not be able to live till silver-haired or the retirement. The happy empty-nester life after retirement is not a guarantee that comes with time. So many other things could come with time, or even before time. I am not afraid of aging. I am afraid of ailing, at a young age. And for the first time in my life, I start to understand “whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”, both in its literal and metaphoric sense.
1 Comment
|