2002-11-14 @ 11:02 p.m.

the telephone call came last night. 'remember that pain ive been having? well i went to the doctors last week. and he ran some tests. and now. now im going to the hospital for a CAT scan tomorrow morning.' my mother says to me through the telephone.

i dropped by her house around lunchtime today. just as i knocked i heard the phone ring. she let me in, gave me a smile to say she was feeling good and upbeat. and ran to the phone.

'yes this is colleen. oh hi dr. s...'

when i stood in the doorway to her bedroom, she shoo'ed me away. i walked away to where i knew i could still see her but she wouldnt know i was there. to see some kind of reaction from her. some kind of body language. some kind of something. i had to see.

i watched her fall down onto the edge of her bed. then. holding the phone to her left ear. sinking and resting her whole head in her right hand. 'so what are you saying?' she ran into the kitchen and frantically started scribbling. 'yes i have a daughter that can drive me.' a few minutes pass. 'okay then. thank you for calling.'

she fought back tears at the kitchen table. i stepped into the doorway. 'do you want some time alone?' i asked. she shook her head. 'do you want to talk about it?' the response took more than a minute. all the while her lovely wrinkled hand covering her forehead and eyes. covering the tears that i knew were there. i tried not to cry. i tried not to. and i didnt. but i knew what was coming. it was what we were both afraid of.

'can you take me to springfield next thursday?'

of course i can.

'hes made me an appointment to see a cancer specialist. its already set for thursday at 2.'

today at her CAT scan. they found fluid around her ovaries. and other things. and she tried to tell me what he said to her on the phone. but she couldnt absorb it. she just kept saying she couldnt absorb what he was telling her. but theres a cyst. or a tumor. and it doesnt look good. and. he thinks she should go see a cancer specialist in springfield. to find out whether its benign. or cancerous.

i spent most of this afternoon and this evening with her. until i had to go because she was getting ready for bed. i hugged her tight before i left. told her i loved her. told her its okay to not always have to be the strong one. its okay to lean on others. and i hugged her like it was my last chance.

and i dont know whats happening. and i dont know whats going to happen. and the only thing i know right now. is im not ready to lose my mother.