Tough Cookie

When my mom first woke up for surgery, one of the first things she asked was "Is it cancer?"

I was afraid to tell her that yes, it was cancer. She knew it meant that her recovery would be difficult and painful, that she might have to undergo chemotherapy and radiation. After I told her she started to cry. Not for the reasons I thought, though. She cried a little and I stroked her forehead. She squeezed her eyes shut and said, "Thank you Lord." Crazy huh? She wasn't thankful to have cancer, she was thankful that she had that car accident 5 months ago so that it could be detected and removed as early as it was. What a wonderful way of looking at the things. Instead of feeling sorry for herself that she had a tough road ahead, she gave thanks and praise to the Lord for saving her life.

The next thing she said almost made me and my sister cry. She was still in her drug-induced haze and she looked at me with glazed eyes and said, "The doctor said I'm a tough cookie."

She was quiet for a minute then she said, "Just like your daddy." (My dad died of cancer nearly 10 years ago). "But your daddy didn't eat all the cookies," she continued. She closed her eyes again and I thought she was about to sleep when she said:

"He didn't eat all the cookies...he saved some...for Lauren."

Sarah and I looked at each other and our chins started quivering! To think that taking care of Lauren was one of the things driving her to fight, I almost lost it right there.

Then she drifted off into sleep, to continue eating cookies with my dad in her dreams.