You’re not doing this alone

So… tonight has been probably the scariest and shittest day of my life.

It’s 11.51pm, and I’m lying on the couch at my parent’s place, far north of my own bed and my own home yet somehow in my comfort zone, drinking Stellabella Semillion Sauvignon Blanc straight from the bottle.

I (we) found out this afternoon that my mum probably has lung cancer.

Five years ago she was treated for a melanoma (skin cancer) on her shoulder. It was so bad that her TPD insurance was paid out – a millimeter more and it would’ve been on the bone. Bone cancer is pretty shit. After treatment and a skin graft that left a 3x3cm scar on her shoulder (which was eventually stitched up, so all there is now is a 4-ishcm scar), she was on the road to recovery.

But she’s had this cough for a while.

Recently, as it got worse, the cough was diagnose as adult onset asthma. In fact, just last night, Tuesday, I sat on my parents couch talking to my mum about how shit asthma is. I’ve been an asthmatic from birth, and probably always will be.

Anyway. Today, somehow, mum (who works at a cardiology clinic at a leading private hospital here in Perth) ended up with her chest xrays, and they somehow ended up in the hands of some sort of medical professional who suggested that it might be best if she see a specialist.

There is a fuzzy patch and a dark mass (also known as a tumour) in one of her lungs.

This isn’t uncommon. Skin cancer often spreads to the lungs. It happens. But it scares the shit out of me.

Right now I’m too alcoholically lubricated to feel anything… but earlier I cried for 40 minutes straight, and screamed and punched my steering wheel so hard that I un-aligned the steering column (I fixed it, but good thing the old fuel guzzler is due for a service). I cried so hard I screamed… I cried as I sang the words of all of Bloc Party’s album Intimacy. I cried holding the hand of my best friend (who, by the way, is wonderful… thank you…). But right now, I have no tears. I’m scared, so so scared. I want my mumma to be there to see my babies. I want her to be there to see them grow up and meet the men/women of their dreams, as my grandparents have. I want my mumma to be there to see me get married next year.

But right now I don’t know.

Right now, I’m not sure what to do, or think, or say, or feel. Nothing is right. This is something that happens to other people. This isn’t a sniffle or an ache. This is lung cancer. Lung cancer. Lung cancer is something that happens to 60 year old smokers, isn’t it? Not 51 year old beautiful, inspirational women, with two children, a husband, and a fantastic career. Not people who innocently stayed out in the sun for too long as a teenager. Not my mumma.