My rectal cancer diagnosis, on Jan. 29, 2016, was the beginning of the end for my beloved mother, who died May 13, less than a month before her 90th birthday.
Mom lived with me for several years, as her mobility waned, so I could keep an eye on her. She took the diagnosis very hard, telling me, "I don't know what I'd do without you," and it started her health decline. As a result, I can't help but feel like this damn disease robbed me of my best friend, along with my health.
I have waded through a lot of guilt as a result. On New Year's Eve, I told her, "Remember how you said you didn't know what you'd do without me? Now, I'm trying to figure out how to go on without you."
Some counselors have told me, though, to remember the totality of our wonderful relationship, and that I became "stuck" in the end. It's good advice.