A Mother’s Worry

The handwriting was unfamiliar; the postmark smudged.

With shaking fingers, she ripped the envelope open and withdrew the single sheet of paper.

"Oh no, I don't want this letter today. I'm not ready for this diagnosis."

Who will look after my son?

Who will pay the bills?

How am I supposed to eat?

I must call the doctor. The letter says to call him. Is it bad news? Am I sick? Was that lump really something serious after all?

Calling Daniel to come with me is heartbreaking, but I have nobody to watch him at such short notice. Oh God, I hope this isn't anything serious. I can't leave him. He's still only a child. I'm all he's got in the world; he can't be alone. No, I will fight this. I will beat this thing. I love my son.

The walk down to the doctor's office felt like an eternity. It was so cold and wet. I felt Daniel's hand holding mine. He was shivering and saying he was cold. This isn't fair on him. He should be wrapped up warm at home, not having to come with me. I should be wrapped up warm at home, worrying about the little things like, "What will I make for dinner?" or reading stories to Daniel... you know, happy stuff.

My hands were shaking. I don't know if it was the cold or the nerves, but as I approached the big brown doors of the doctor’s office, I took a minute and took a deep breath. I kneeled down to Daniel's level, looked at his beautiful face, and looked straight into his blue eyes. I said to him, "No matter what happens today, I will always be with you. I love you. You are my little soldier." And I hugged him so tightly.

He doesn't understand what's going on, but as I stood up, he grabbed my hand and held it tightly. I knew he was trying to protect me. He knew something was wrong, but the innocence of a child would never be able to understand the situation I'm about to be in.

Walking up to the reception, I could see the worried look on her face. Does she know? No, she couldn't know. They aren't allowed to know; it's only between me and the doctor.

But as soon as I got to the desk to sign myself in, she immediately got up from her chair and offered to look after Daniel. She insisted I went straight on through to the doctor's office. She knows something is wrong; nobody can be that helpful if it was nothing. Oh no, it's bad.

I said to Daniel, "I will be right back. Mummy has to go and talk to the doctor." I felt the tears building up, but I didn't let him see.

Walking up the long hallway, I decided to take one last look before I went in. I saw him playing with some toys. He looked content. The receptionist gave me a look; I knew she knew something was wrong.

"Okay, deep breath. I can do this."

I knocked on the door and walked in, but no doctor was there. Was I in the wrong room? I decided to sit down and wait.

It felt like such a long time. I saw the clock on the big grey wall right in front of me. I could hear every single sound of its ticking.

I'm so scared.

Suddenly, the doctor came in—the one who had been taking care of me since I started talking about my issue.

He sat down at his desk and looked at me. This man wasn't bringing good news.

I watched him take a deep breath. He also removed his glasses.

He went to my eye level and started to talk to me.

I remember every single word. He started off with, "We now know what has been giving you all the trouble. After all these tests, we can now give you a full diagnosis." He then held my hand and began to speak.

"I am extremely sorry to inform you that you have been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer."

As he said that word, the room got extremely hot. I felt myself sweating. This is serious. I expected this, but being told I'm very sick is a different feeling.

How am I going to look after Daniel? How do I even tell him that Mummy might not be here anymore to tuck him in and read his favourite stories at night or to scare the monster that lives under his bed?

I told the doctor I want to fight. I won't let this beat me. I need to win for my son.

I held back the tears and went to him. He looked me in the eyes and asked, "Am I okay?"

I sat down on the floor next to him in that waiting room. People were looking, but I didn't care. In this moment, it was just me and him.

I sat him on my knee and helped him to understand that I'm not well.

"Daniel, Mummy isn't very well, so I need you to help me by being a big boy and being very brave for me."

As I said those dreaded words, I hugged him so tight, and we went home hand in hand.

I wrote this short story to spread awareness of the horrible effects cancer can have on many families. It's not often spoken about how single parents, who generally don't have anyone to support them, deal with such a diagnosis.

What's worse is the fear of thinking what can happen to their children if they are gone.

This makes the fight with cancer so much harder.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story.