How Everything Changes When a Family Member Gets Sick

2017 was one of the most notable years for me in many ways. For the first time ever, I moved to a new neighborhood and left a fragment of my life behind. I began middle school in a new environment and had to adjust to these new surroundings. It was hard to interact with others at first, but I naturally began to grow more comfortable and found an amazing friend group. They introduced me to many new music artists and hobbies. Many of them still remain within my close-knit circle of friends today. 

My point is that 2017 was a year of many firsts for me. I moved to a different city, so it felt like I was working my way from the ground up starting middle school. Furthermore, I stepped out of my comfort zone to experience and achieve many new feats.

I felt like I was growing up and this process was very distant and difficult, but I truly was happy and did my best to embrace everything at the time. However, shortly after getting to this high, everything came crashing down.

At the end of 2017, my mother was diagnosed with a cancerous tumor. My parents abruptly broke this news to me — merely a few months after I started middle school. I remember this event vividly. They sat me down to talk, both with very serious expressions on their faces, which was a very odd occurrence in itself because they have never done this before. In a sincere tone, my dad began to tell me that my mom was diagnosed with a cancerous tumor, and even at age 12, I knew the weight of those words. I began to frantically think about many what-ifs, but my brain was still in a motionless mode. 

Soon, my mom began to visit the hospital regularly for treatments and rehabilitation and spent much of her time lying in bed racked with pain. My dad took a break from work to take care of her and our household. I had to get used to many things at once: my immobile mother who barely had any energy to move her limbs, her scary number of unfamiliar-looking medications, caregiving responsibilities, and, most importantly, how draining all of this had on our mental health. 

It wasn’t easy to get used to this new normal. During the time that my mom got treatment, I essentially spent all of my time alone. Both of my parents were facing their own battles, so I had to grow up independently during this period.  

The only time in a day I would interact with my mom would be during dinner. She would ask me about my day, but I couldn’t answer fully. I felt horrible when I answered her. It wasn’t that I was saying anything bad, but I felt horrible because I was having fun in school. It felt inappropriate to talk about the fun I had in school that day or how content I was with my friends when she was going through so much pain. Furthermore, I felt guilty that I was the only one happy when she was in pain; I felt helpless that I couldn’t do anything to help or lessen her burden, except offer my silent support. I couldn’t even express my true feelings or remind her how much I loved her because, as a 12-year-old child, it was hard for me to utter words of support. 

I remained in this small bubble of mine for quite some time. Words, worries, and even resentment piled up inside me, with no way out. I hated myself for doing things that she couldn’t, like go to school or even walk properly. A lot of caregiving responsibilities naturally fell on my shoulders, and there were a few instances where I would feel the undertones of resentment. I hated myself for having these feelings, albeit for only a few seconds, especially when I knew I wasn’t in such a position. And the worst of it? I had no idea what my mom was going through as I couldn’t even imagine her struggle. 

As the months passed, I got into more of a routine with these tasks, and slowly got used to this new normal. Many things fell into place, and I managed to get out of my bubble to accept reality. I tried to fulfill my duties as a filial daughter, which meant helping my parents as much as I could.

As my mom started getting better, the parts of our lives that had been put on hold slowly started to move again. For instance, I finished middle school and moved onto high school. In fact, I’m graduating soon and will begin university in a few months. 

It’s been more than a few years since my mother was diagnosed with cancer, and she’s made nearly a full recovery. The tumor has left her body, yet it’s still long before she’s able to do many things, but we’re working on it. She can cook and occasionally go on walks if the weather allows it.

While our family could have wallowed in misery and been unable to get over this hardship, we stayed true to our feelings and gave it our all to support each other with the little strength that we could muster. My mother wasn’t angry or sad that she got cancer; she took it as a period for her to re-evaluate how she lived her life and better herself. In many parts, this experience helped me grow as a person as well. I grew a lot, and faced a lot of my feelings and innermost thoughts for the first time ever. And while the period was a tough hurdle for my family and me, I believe that it still was a titular period in my life. In retrospect, I had an equal number of happy memories and new experiences to go along with the hardship that I faced, and I think I will look back on this period with acceptance and bittersweet feelings.