Self Centered

We lost the game, and it was my fault. Each time a ball came toward the net, I

tried to catch it, but instead of seeing a ball, I saw malignant cancer cells. They


were too much for a doctor to understand, so how could I? After the game, the team

had their heads hung down, but I was worried about a more important factor – my

mother had surgery today. The surgery was a foreign power that had the ability to

control our lives. I walked off of the muddy field in my cleats that were covered in

grass, my chin shields that were at my ankles, and my cell phone in my hand. I

heard the other team rejoicing, my team talking about going to a teammate’s home

after the game. I had my bag of my regular clothes on my shoulder, and I dialed the

number to my step father. He told me that he would speak to me when I got home.

My mother was still lying in a hospital and sleeping from her recent surgery. I

simply asked him “does she have cancer” and he replied “yes”. I told him I would be

home shortly. I hung up the phone, my bag fell, my shoulders dropped, and tears

poured out of my eyes like water over a water fall. Out of the twenty girls on my

team, only one offered to go home with me – to make sure I was okay.




Everything changed – my entire outlook on life. My mom may not be here much

longer. I sat on the couch crying, petting my cat, and telling Janice all of my

emotions. I ate constantly, as soon as I was finished with one bowl of cereal; I went

to the cabinet for a bag of chips. I had a pseudo belief that I could ease pain with

food – after all, that is what everyone else tries to do. Eating did not solve anything,

but it did give me a stomach ache and excess misery. The next two days went by

and I pretended like everything was okay, I was not sure if I wanted everyone to

know or if I wanted to tell them everything.



My mother came home from the hospital when I was at school. I left soccer

practice with Janice and Sara. The drive home was quick, but seemed to last for

eternity. We pulled into the elementary school to get Janice’s little brother. As he

climbed in the car, my phone rang. Alex invited me to come to the shopping center

everyone refers to as “the mall” with him and Eric. I told them that I could not come,

my mom was finally home. They decided to invite themselves to my house. This, in

turn, meant that Sara was coming too. She had not been to my house in months,

but since Eric was coming, why wouldn’t she? I came home, put my things down,

and began to talk to my mother. Suddenly, you heard strange voices outside. I

simply looked at my mom and said “Eric and Alex want to meet you”. They came

in, and instead of finishing my talk with my mother, I went outside with them. They

became my fantasy land, the escape from my new life.




That was how the entire tragedy went, my mother would be somewhere doing

something important, and I would be out with two idiots that had no common sense.

My mother was at the doctor, getting her blood work, smelling the stench of

sterilized products, surrounded by people in white lab coats, weighing scales, and

needles. I was at a softball game, yelling and screaming while the smell of coca

cola products, nachos, and hot dogs surrounded me. That is the way it always was,

she would be somewhere getting something done that could determine if she would

live much longer, and I was just out being a self-centered teenager. I did not want to

go home, to face my mother in her pain. If Eric and Alex could keep me from that,

then I was with them. Their friendship was a black hole that lead to another

universe – I would rather be there. My mother was at a hospital in Fayetteville, I was

in Alabama. I would do anything to get away from her untimely illness.





Everything began to settle, her treatments were over, and my friendship with both

guys had slowly faded away. I realized a lot more now that I was home – my mom

spent a great deal of her time crying out in agony because of the pain. She could

not work, go places; she could not do anything she enjoyed. Her life consisted of

lying on a couch or lying in a bed. I was never there to befriend her or comfort her.

She had always been there for me, and I was far away when she needed me the

most. Now that it all appeared to be over, I was around.



My regret turned to anger, and I quickly shut everyone out of my life as though they

were just strangers on the opposite side of a window that I did not want to look out

of. My mothers’ doctors said her cancer was in recession and that there would be

side effects to the radiation and chemotherapy. Almost three months later, she still

cannot work. My mother loves to work, to serve others, to be occupied. I have no

friends to confide in now because I ignored them all for so long. My mother does not

trust me to be there for her, and my family is always miserable. I think that we are

all thankful every day we get to see my mother wake up, but we are all in pain

because the doctors do not know what is wrong with her. Now when my mom asks

me to do something, I will try to complete whatever it is, but she will ask my step

father to do the exact same thing as soon as he enters the room. I talk to my

mother more now that I have had this epiphany that I was more of a disease myself

than an antidote or cure while she was extremely sick. Alex and Eric are not in

each others lives anymore, much less mine. My mom is still here and I have to face

her every day with the mistakes I have made. I have the same dinner every night –

regret with a serving of loneliness because I was never there for my mother, and

now no one is there for me.