With constant advances in the sciences, many people have overlooked the existence of superheroes, but me? I have living proof. During the day, Yana is busy at work, and at home she is the one that keeps things running smoothly. If this is one week after the last of many surgeries, imagine how tough my mom is when she's feeling her best. Most teenagers would be hesitant to admit that their mom is the one that changed their lives, but for me it was the obvious answer.
I remember walking along the Benjamin Franklin Parkway and hearing my cell phone ring, as it often does. I remember picking up, and hearing my mom say, “They still want to do a biopsy… but it doesn't look good.” She didn't need to say any more, I knew what was coming. It had only been three months since we moved to a new city and I started a new school, but trying to fit in and breaking all the rules were no longer that important.
I had turned sixteen just months before my mom told me that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer, and all of the sudden, my new school's hideous uniform didn't matter anymore. The fun I had breaking as many rules as I could seemed trivial; there was no point in acting out anymore. It started with some chemotherapy, and before I knew it, my mom was bald and recovering from a full mastectomy and hysterectomy. To say it was a good thing that my mom was sick would be absurd, but to say that it didn't change me for the better would be a lie. I couldn't stand to see my mom with IVs and bandages, so I did the only thing I knew: crack jokes and make her laugh as much as I could. My mom later told me that my ability to laugh with her helped her through the endless treatments and surgeries. I wish I could say that I dove right into all my new responsibilities as a student in a private school, as a big sister, as a daughter, but that's not how things worked. I guess things really began to change when I saw that my mom was still going to work between treatments. Slowly but surely my homework was actually getting done, I was trying harder, helping more, occasionally making dinner, and even cleaning my room. In the time it took for my mom to receive a full course of chemotherapy treatment, my grades went up, my relationship with my younger sister improved, and playing class clown was a thing of the past. My bad attitude dissolved, and soon I was even following (most of) the rules.
I'm nineteen now, and looking back I have a hard time relating with the Rebecca that I was at fourteen and fifteen. I have the same interests, the same hobbies, but now I finally understand how fragile and valuable my time is. Watching my mom struggle and defeat cancer has shown me that people can save their own lives. Though my own battles have yet to reach the intensity of my mom's, witnessing her strength has increased mine. It's my third year at that same private school, and I'm finally mature enough to know it's where I'm supposed to be. There are still changes I'd like to make, but now I know I have the strength to make them.
