27/07/2021— The worst day of my life
A week later, we were back at the hospital. I held Mom's hand tight as we walked down the sterile hallway. She gave me a weak smile, but I could see the fear behind it.
The doctor met us in a small exam room. "Thanks for coming back so quickly," he said gently. "We've reviewed all the scans and test results. There's a growth in your breast tissue. The biopsy confirms it's malignant. It appears to be stage 2."
At that moment my chest dropped. Cancer. I squeezed her hand, trying to keep it together, but my throat felt raw.
"Stage 2?" she whispered. "I… I thought I was just tired."
"I know," the doctor said softly. "Early-stage breast cancer often doesn't cause obvious symptoms, which is why it went unnoticed until now."
"What's the next step?" My dad asked his voice steady but tense.
"You'll need a treatment plan," the doctor explained. "Surgery to remove the tumor, possibly followed by chemotherapy or radiation. Stage 2 cancer is treatable, and many patients respond well. But we need to start soon."
Mom nodded, trying to stay strong. I pulled her into a hug, feeling Dad wrap an arm around both of us. Joey joined in, still looking nervous but holding on tightly. "We'll get through this together," he whispered.
The first time she fainted, we faced the truth as a family. Terrifying and uncertain—but as we knew, we could fight it.
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Present time: 17/04/2022
I slammed my hands against the wall, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might burst. How could this happen? She'd had surgery. She'd gone through chemo. For almost a whole year, she fought like hell, and now… now it was worse. I wanted to scream, to throw something, but it wasn't my call.
I'm not the one sufferingand I just treated the one with cancer— my mother, like shit. And I wasn't going to leave it like that.
Downstairs my mum and Joey were still in the living room, I thought he would have left, so I wouldn't have an extra person to apologise to. Ugh.
Walking over to where they were, I caught Joey's glance—his eyes narrowed, confused, almost searching me for answers. Mum didn't say a word, just stared at me, and from her eyes alone I could see it—hurt, yes, but also worry. That look twisted the knife deeper, and I could feel the weight of it pressing down on my chest.
You shitty asshole, I berated myself, cause I deserved it.
"I'm sorry," I said, my voice low, shaky. I forced myself to meet her gaze. "I'm so sorry, Mum. I shouldn't have said what I did… shouldn't have raised my voice. You didn't deserve any of it." The words tumbled out faster, like if I didn't say them now, I'd lose the chance forever. "You're already hurting and I just… I made it worse. I hurt you when I should've been helping. I don't—" My voice cracked, and I had to swallow hard. "I don't ever want to do that again. "
"...and I'm sorry to you Joey for yelling," I mumbled, because my pride didn't allow me to tell him a proper apology.
For a moment, she just looked at me, and I braced myself for the disappointment I deserved. Instead, she stepped forward and pulled me into her arms. I froze at first, then sagged into her, the knot in my chest unraveling as her warmth wrapped around me.
Behind us, Joey scoffed. "You better be, you little fucker," he muttered, sharp enough for me to hear.
I didn't answer him. Couldn't. I just buried my face against Mum's shoulder and let myself cling to her, the guilt still there but dulled by the only thing I hadn't realized how badly I needed—her hug.
"So… what did the doctor say caused the cancer to come back, even after doing all of the surgery and chemotherapy?" I asked, my voice muffled against her shoulder, still holding on to her like letting go would make her slip away.
"Cause I don't understand," I whispered, my throat tightening. "It was supposed to be gone. The surgery, the chemo—it was supposed to fix it. So why… why hasn't it? Why's it gotten worse?" My arms clung tighter around her, my voice cracking. "Why are you still suffering?"
"Michael—" Mum's voice was soft, almost breaking as she stroked the back of my head. "They said some of the cancer cells were resistant to chemo… and my cancer cells were aggressive. So there was always a chance of it coming back. That's why, even after everything, I was still in pain."
"Why? Why you?" The words tore out of me, jagged and trembling. "You don't deserve this. It was supposed to work—but now you're just going to suffer even more. It's not fair." My voice cracked, splintering into sobs, and I couldn't hold it in any longer. I broke down in my mother's arm.