Last year my amazing mom Bunny was diagnosed with colon cancer. Months of chemo and radiation, followed by surgery and more months of chemo have been hard on all of us.
After 9 brutal rounds of chemo (which left her sad and weary, very un-Bunnylike traits) she was released from chemo and now awaits yet another surgery in a few months.
When your energetic mom who everyone thinks is your sister loses power and enthusiasm, you begin to miss the little quirk and habits that you appreciate so much.
I spent this past week with my mom as she recuperated and I was given the gift of seeing her regain her strength, her humor, and her uncanny ability to comment at just about anything.
You see, Bunny is a commenter extraordinaire, especially on physical qualities of strangers walking down the street. (Perhaps this is tied into some of my own paranoia, but we'll talk about that in another post. Just know that when you cross the street anywhere in Alameda County, California you're open to Bunny's observations)
Here are some classics:
Weary looking bum crossing the street in a haphazard manner:
"He looks like he's high on booze, dope, and God knows what else!"
Shirtless man crossing same street:
"You get one hot day and suddenly everyone's a muscle man."
Shapely woman pushing a shopping cart in a parking lot:
"Now that's what I call CURVACEOUS!
Sullen teenage girl with too much mascara, smoking in public:
"I just think that's CHEAP." (This is usually followed by a reference to some wardrobe mistakes I made as a teen- the woman has the memory of an elephant)
When my mom started chemo, she slowly began to lose her life spirit. All those comments dried up, as she had no energy except for to survive the pain. Her usual vim and vigor went into hibernation, her zeal and zest to sleep.
When I arrived to my mom's last week, she was doing so much better. Her voice sounded like her again, her smile was back. Most importantly, her appetite returned. To celebrate, we went to lunch.
On our way back, we passed a woman with a rather large backside.
"Now THAT'S what I call JUNK IN THE TRUNK" exclaimed my mom from the passenger seat of my car.
In that moment I celebrated: My mom is back!