MIA (Creative Writing Sample- Fiction)

My mom and I were holding hands with our grips so tight, it was hard to tell who’s hand was sweating. Or maybe it was both of ours. I stared at the front desk receptionist window with a pink post-it that read, “Yell if you need us!” followed by a happy face. Usually the office is really busy and we were the only people in the lobby. It was strange but it was lunch time, so maybe that was the reason for the lobby being empty. We were seated quietly and I noticed my mom staring at the ground. She was so consumed in the boring looking carpet that she wasn’t seeing the PEOPLE magazine that was in front of us with Chris Hemsworth crowned as “Sexiest Man Alive!” As I pointed to the magazine to get her out of space, a nurse calls out, “Teresa? Follow me please.” The nurse leads us to an office that had an equal representation of a library. Shelves filled with books everywhere, even the desk was hidden beneath some stacks. 

“Dr. Woods will be in shorty.” 

Simultaneously, my mom and I both respond, “Thank you.”

My heart began to beat rapidly, my hands started to itch, and my habit of fixing my hair every two seconds showed signs of my anxiousness. I forced myself to take deep breaths and grabbed my moms hand again. I whispered, “Everything is going to be okay.”

Minutes later we heard, “Good morning ladies! How are you this morning?” included with a smile so big I took it as a sign that everything was going to be okay, no bad news to share. I was wrong. What he responded with will forever be engraved in my memory. Dr. Woods looked towards my mom and said, “I went over your biopsy results. I’m afraid the cancer is back, and it’s much more aggressive this time. What I want to plan for next is…”

I stopped listening. My ears turned off. I couldn’t hear any type of sound. I immediately put my head down and started sobbing. This was unreal. My mom had just celebrated her one-year anniversary of being cancer free. I couldn’t watch her be in pain all over again. I couldn’t watch the dynamic of my family change again. The next twenty minutes of that appointment were a blur. Next thing I knew we shook hands with Dr. Woods and went about our way. My mom and I were silent until we reached our car in the parking garage. I felt the most powerful hug from my mom in that moment than I ever felt in my lifetime. She didn’t look sad, she looked determined. She held my cheeks, looked into my drug-looking red eyes and watched my clear snot drip down my nose. “I will beat this again. I know I will. You know how I know that? You helped pull us together the first time, now I will be responsible for that.”

Apart from finding out my mom’s cancer was back, my emotions flushed from how physically and mentally draining it was the first time my mom was diagnosed. I had just turned 18, my first year at my local community college and part-time employee at Jamba Juice. My dad speaks broken English, so he never felt comfortable asking my mom’s doctors any questions. My older brother wasn’t able to take much time off work because of his new job. I was the primary caretaker for my mom during that time which meant I was never able to process my own emotions about the whole situation. Why did I feel the need to take care of myself anyway? My mom needed me. That’s all that mattered. That was the attitude I wanted to have being strapped to the front seat of that rollercoaster again. Instead, I had an ugly crying face and it was my mom telling me she was going to hold the weight for our family, she was going to be in control.

Two weeks after receiving the awful news, I found myself sitting in the waiting room of the hospital with my dad and brother. I received a text on my phone that the surgery had just begun. “Should we go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat? How long did the doctor say the surgery would take?” The hospital only allowed one person to be with my mom in pre-op and my dad elected me to be that person.

“He estimated about 4 hours. You guys go ahead, I’m not very hungry.”

“Do you want us to bring you something?”

“No, I’m fine. I brought snacks.”

I pulled my Fifty Shades of Grey book out of my tote bag along with my peanut butter crackers. My mom and I were reading the trilogy at the same time and she was way ahead of me. After a couple hours, I reached the part where Christian Grey first punishes Anastasia for rolling her eyes at him and I see someone with green scrubs approach me. “I just wanted to update you- your mom is doing great. There were some small complications but she’s doing very well. From what we’re seeing, her tumor is about the size of a tennis ball. We still have to get behind it and see if there’s anything else, but I wanted to give you the peace of mind that everything is going as expected.”

I exhaled so deeply I sat there still trying to breath out after what felt ten minutes. I nodded and watched the green scrub person walk away. Another couple hours went by and Dr. Woods stepped out and reassured my family and I that my mom was safe, responsive, and everything they found was expected. After my mom spent another few hours in recovery, she was finally assigned a room. I had been used to seeing my mom in a hospital bed but this time it felt different. It felt painful. I watched my mom open her eyes for the first time post surgery and she immediately began to cry. 

“My head hurts” she said in tears.

“Don’t worry mom, I’ll find a nurse to help. Please don’t cry” I said with a huge knot in my throat.

I watched the nurse give my mom extra strength Tylenol with apple juice. At that time my aunts had stepped in the room to visit my mom while I observed her carefully. I made sure her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, gave her extra blankets, and her feet were elevated a bit to prevent blood clots. As I did my best to make her as comfortable as I can, she reached for my hand and asks, “Mia, get the nurse please I’m in a lot of pain.” I sped out of the room to find my mom’s nurse and just as I was about to turn a corner, I found her. I pleaded that she had to come quick and she speed walked right behind me back to room 4427. When I reached my moms door and moved the curtain, I saw my moms hair tangled up, blankets thrown to the floor with the pillow I used to lift her feet up. “What are you feeling, Teresa?” the nurse asks. “My head… it hurts…really bad… please do something” my mom said trying to fight off the tears.

Of course I’ve seen my mom become emotional many times throughout the course of years because of her illness and I’ve always been able to be strong and hold my head up high for her. But at that moment, that very second, I couldn’t be strong. I watched my mom’s illness defeat her. I felt weak and hopeless and couldn’t help but start sobbing. The nurse checked my moms vitals and my dad pulled me out of the room to get some air and let my tears run dry. He reminded me that it was okay to cry and assured me that my mom will beat this again. She can and she will. I found the courage to go back in room 4427 and found my mom relaxed and comfortable. She saw me and reached for my hand, “I’m sorry I scared you, I’m better now I promise.”

“Did you eat anything solid yet?” I asked.

“No, but I am craving some Chick-Fil-A. Why don’t you and your brother go get some food and bring me back some grilled nuggets with fries and a small Sprite. I’ll be fine with your dad here.” 

I respond, “Are you even allowed to eat that?” Chick-Fil-A was her favorite. But I questioned Dr. Woods’ so-called approval of my mom eating fast food so early after surgery. My look of hesitation and confusion was noticeable. 

“I asked Dr. Woods and he said it was fine. Don’t worry, your dad was here when he came in,” My mom assured me. “Now, go. I know how you get when you’re hungry.”

As much as I didn’t want to leave her, she and I both knew it was only a matter of time before I became hangry. So I agreed. Immediately leaving the room, I felt my body relax. The heavy weight was now light and the air I inhaled was fresh oxygen. But I had a gut feeling I shouldn’t leave. I almost stopped myself from leaving the hospital but I heard my stomach talk me out of it and thought if I had some chicken strips, waffle fries, and a Oreo milkshake my mind and body would be at ease. After I devoured my tray of food, my brother and I headed back to the hospital.

Waiting in the elevator to reach my moms floor made my stomach twist in knots. I was able to taste the salt of the fries and the sweet Oreo milkshake creeping up my throat. I felt it again, the gut feeling that something was wrong. From afar I saw my dad waiting outside my mom’s room while many doctors and nurses rush in and out. I dropped the Chick-Fil-A bag and ran towards my dad and yelled, “DAD WHAT IS GOING ON?!” My dad dropped to the bacteria-filled floor and hid his face in his palms and wouldn’t look up at me. Then I heard it.

“Time of death: 20:17 PM” followed by a loud flat line.

I close my eyes and surrender myself to the grief. I can still hear it.

Sitting on an olive green couch, with a coffee table in front of me, I stare at my glass of water. I open my eyes and touch back with reality. “And what was the cause of your mother’s death?” The shrink asks. Her red hair, freckles and Harry Potter-like glasses stared into my soul. I thought her question was a little too personal for our first session, but I understood her profession. I appreciated her setting her notebook and pen aside. She was genuinely listening to me as a person, not as a client. I realized she can’t help if I’m not completely honest, so I stop twirling with my hands and look up at her.

I take a deep breath in and respond, “Her cancer was far more advanced than we thought. After my mom’s doctors pronounced her dead, Dr. Woods had a private conversation with me in my mom’s room. He said my mom was already aware of the cancer beforehand and she requested a fake appointment with just her and I so Dr. Woods can deliver the news to me instead. She had stage 5 breast cancer and was only given weeks to live. She went through with a surgery that she and her doctors knew would be unsuccessful and advised her doctors she wanted to show my family and I that she gave life one last shot. She was hopeful for a miracle but knew the chances were incredibly low. She did it for us… knowing her doctors couldn’t save her.” Dr. Mackswood asks the most annoying question everyone hates to hear, “After receiving that information, how did that make you feel?”

With patience I said, “Angry, emotional, guilty, helpless. I’m angry that my mom chose to tell me in the way that she did. I’m emotional because I never got to really say goodbye to her, guilty because I should’ve caught on to her symptoms earlier. And helpless because I couldn’t save my mom. It’s only been 3 years, and I can’t stop grieving her. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop.”

“Grief doesn’t have a timeline, you are allowed to feel everything that you’re feeling and process those emotions at your own pace. Think of your mom’s legacy, her impact on you positively. After today’s session, I want you to challenge yourself to think of your mom in forms where she was uplifting, funny, and touching moments you had with her. You don’t want to remember her in hospital rooms or her being sick. Next time we meet I’d like you to share some of those memories with me and why they were important to you.” Thinking of my mom in that way made me smile a bit.

“I look forward to helping you navigate the grieving process, Mia.”

I stand up and shake hands with Dr. Mackswood. Getting in my car, I feel the most relaxed I’ve felt in a long time. I take a minute to soak it all in. Naturally, my body drove to the nearest Chick-Fil-A, where I ordered some greasy fried chicken strips, salty fries and the sweetest Oreo milkshake.