My mom died eight years ago,
from LMS. Leiomyosarcoma,
a word I learned when she said it on the phone.
"It's a rare cancer of the smooth muscles.
There are three types of muscles,
I learned this in my anatomy class.
Skeletal muscles move you—
running, typing, washing dishes.
Cardiac muscles make your heart beat.
Smooth muscles are involuntary, found in internal organs—
the uterus, digestive system, urinary tract, arteries, veins."
Perhaps she was psychic.
The cancer spread through her body in that same order.
It’s aggressive, and at diagnosis,
six months more of living was a miracle.
She lived two and a half more.
Strange how, since I was a child, I hated how she
was the type to try anything once,
disregard risk,
say yes when others would say no.
Couldn't she just be a regular mom?
But that’s probably why she lived so long.
She signed up for every clinical trial,
every experimental drug. She now lives on in scientists'
dataset, and maybe, somewhere, there’s a future
where a girl’s regular mom lives even longer
Because of my mom—
she was the type to try anything once,
disregard risk,
and say yes when anyone else would say no.
How could I still hate her, after that?
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