What’s Wrong With My Mom?

The answer to all of my childhood questions.

Three years ago today, I found out my mom had a golf ball-sized tumor in her brain. A tumor that had been growing her entire life, a tumor that led to my childhood trauma, a tumor that was found days before sending her into a coma.

(Phone rings.)

“Hi Dad, how’s it going?”

“Your mother is sick. She hasn’t been able to get out of bed for weeks. I just took her to the hospital. They found a brain tumor. She’s going into surgery immediately.”

When I first found out about my mom’s tumor, I was living halfway across the country. So naturally, I did what any daughter would do; I packed up everything that could fit into my little Kia Forte and drove 2,000 miles straight from the West Coast back home to the Midwest.

Back in 2020, I was living in the Bay Area, and at this time the land was experiencing some of the worst wildfires ever recorded. The sky was a deep dark orange. There was an inch of ash on my car. The roads were on fire. It felt like a living Hell. On top of the fires, there were heavy Covid restrictions in place, and the public was strongly advised to not leave their homes. But, I knew making the choice to leave after getting that phone call was a necessary part of this journey that I was being guided to embark on.

I spent 27 of those 30 hours driving in silence. The other 3 crying. In shock. Dazed. Depleted. Appalled at the state of…