Jill, in her own words, was freaked out.

My daughter of 17 years, speaks her mind whether it's been solicited or not!  You must appreciate her honesty, although sometimes you want to strangle her.

For a year and a half before being diagnosed with breast cancer, I had not been myself.  I was dealing with two teenagers who wanted their independency, yet were still our children needing direction.  Hormones and emotions often raged our house and to make it worse, sibling rilvary was at its peak. Joy, joy, joy!  I found parenting exhausting!

My husband is of the personality that allows things to fester before voicing his dislike - I think it's referred to as passive aggressive.  Often he would let things ride that I found needing to be handled on the spot.  In as much as we usually agree on morals and values the kids need to be taught, we at times, approach parenting differently.  This is not good - both parents need to be in sync. . .  .mixed signals are the wrong messages sent to your children.

Jill often tells me I need to get Danny under control, as she tells him I need to chill and breathe.  She's right on some occasions. . . . on others, she is the one who needs to rethink her actions.

During the time leading up to my diagnosis, I had a lot on my plate.  I started a new job that led me a direction I hadn't planned; however I was committed and worked my tail off. My place of employment had gone through strategic planning and set much needed and exciting goals for the organization.  With this came a lot growing pains as new responsiblities were added to those involved. Change and transition is difficult to some and others welcome the challenge. . . . and I felt it all.

It became a daily routine to develop a headache and often they turned into migraines.  I always felt like my brain was encumbered for some unknown reason and much later into the diagnosis, I learned my brain had indeed been on overload due to fighting the cancer on its own.  My body tried desperately to tell me I was sick. . .  .I wouldn't stop long enough to listen.  I didn't want to disappoint anyone.

Sometimes I was scattered brained, forgetting silly things like a phone call or where I laid my glassses.  I know all of us, expecially those in the 50+ category, have these experiences, but mine were more like "out of sight out of mind" forgetfulness. . . .maybe short-term memory not forming into long-term recall.  Anyway the overdrive I found myself in was a form of self-survival.  My body was trying to say something was wrong with me, but I refused to hear. 

The human body is so complex and it's always working on something within, often on things the owner is not aware.  Thus, my brain was desperately sending signals that my body has a foreign entity in existence and we must come together to fight full force in order to win. 

If you're reading this, make time to get to know your body and listen to what it's saying to you.

What I love about my daughter is she is full of life.  She's goal oriented at school and has high expectations for herself.  Jill's learned to laugh at herself and not take herself too seriously.  Most teens think of themselves as perfect and resent anything less brought to their attention.  Jill will do well in life with this specific characteristic. 

How many of us know of someone, friend or family member, that puts undue stress on themselves and those around them due to expecting perfection. They are the ones that find fault with many or think that they could have handled the project better.  I know I've been guilty of such, but not anymore - it's a constant effort, but I'm now aware of the unserving behavior.  I pray others will see how unserving it is - to themselves and those around them.

Jill at times resented my lack of energy and enthusiam when I returned home each day.  I either brought home dinner or put something together quickly, to only retire to the bedroom shortly thereafter.  Blindness to the fact didn't leave me as the most caring & devoted mother or wife.

Discussions with Jill became strained and I often dodged her dislikes, as she is one to share in great detail all which makes her unhappy.  Our relationship was in jeopardy as I look back on it.  Today I am happy to report we are closer than we ever have been.  She comes to me in confidence and that is a huge reward to a parent who has a teenager.  Do I feel blessed?  Most definately!

When I was diagnosed, Jill confided she was freaked out about it.  I noticed she withdrew from me even more and begrudged the extra work she had been delegated. I was diagnosed in early April and by summer she referred to herself as being a work monkey for the family.  Truthfully, she wasn't given more than cleaning her room, the dishes and an occasional extra chore; however, to a teen with growing pains and pier pressures, my whole ordeal brought on resentment. Life is all about them, the teenager, and now mother is making it all about her.  Resentment was her way of surviving mom's cancer.

After my surgery I stayed with my baby sister and her family (God bless them).  My sister and her teenage daughter couldn't wait to see the results from the mascetomy. . .  lack of tissue, huge horizontal scar, and the expander to assist with reconstructive surgery later. Both were the best caregivers.

Jill on the other hand wanted nothing to do with it. She would avoid me anytime I was dressing and I'm glad I didn't need to depend on her. It wasn't that she was self-centered, and I determined several months into my illness that she was only dealing with her own thoughts that mom might lose the battle. Any contact with the surgery would only remind her of this.  Although she grumbled, a child never wishes to lose a parent.

She's coming around though - now she is feeling more confident I'm going to win this scrimmage with life. Just recently I was changing clothes and she walked in. Although I turned my back to her, I noticed her eyes traveled to the numerous markings that have been drawn on my body as radiation guides.  Her silence spoke a thousand words.

She knows. Jill is aware I've been through hell and back. We don't have to talk about it if she prefers not to do so. She goes with me to treatments occasionally and sits in the main waiting room awaiting my return. . . . . yes, she knows, and I appreciate she is looking forward to my return.

Next: Humor gets you through anything!