My Mother’s Cancer Made Me Confront My Vanity
It felt like my life had been completely destroyed one December morning, a couple of days before my 24th birthday. At around 12:00 am I found myself in the emergency room with my mom, laying on her hospital bed. After hours of waiting for lab results to come back, the doctor finally came in. She introduced herself as the oncologist on rotation that day, but for some reason, even after her introduction, I still hadn’t connected the dots.
My mom was diagnosed with a rare blood cancer called Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. There was nothing that could’ve prepared me for this moment.
Seeing the pale look on my mom’s face as she received her diagnosis, I knew I had to be strong for her. I gathered every last ounce of my strength and promised myself I would pull my mother through this process.
It’s been a little over a year since the diagnosis and I still haven’t shed a tear in front of my mom. It was by divine intervention that I was in Virginia the day my mom was diagnosed. I lived in Tennessee with my husband, but had decided to visit her on a whim.
My mom began chemotherapy about a month after the diagnosis. She’s had over 70 chemotherapy treatments in the form of pills and IV infusions. The drugs have been administered via intrathecal injections, intravenous injections, and orally. I’ve watched my mom suffer through the side effects of these dangerous drugs as well as suffer through the pain of the injections. I’ve cried in my room as she would vomit everything she ate. I’ve watched her skin change color because of the toxicity of these treatments. And I’ve seen her cry and wish her mom was there for her during this time.
Even though this process was the most gut wrenching journey I have ever been on, I would be remiss if I didn’t talk about the life changing lessons I learned. I wish I could explain every detail and every way I saw my loving God carry us through this. He’s led my mom to healing, but in the process He has changed my life and taught me lessons I had ignored before. As the months started passing, I began to realize that so many of the things I thought were important were so trivial. I had invested so much time into my own needs, fueling my self-centeredness.
I remember a particular day that brings a smile to my face now. My mom laid her head on my lap for me to cut off her hair. For some strange reason, after all the chemotherapy, my mom’s hair did not fall off. It wasn’t until the total body radiation that all of her follicles eventually withered, but even after that they were still holding on. She laid her head on my lap and I slowly and gently starting cutting away.
As I cut each strand I realized God was showing me the vanity and self-centeredness in my heart. I realized how much value I had put into each strand of my own hair, and here I was, cutting off my mom’s beautiful hair.
I had paid hundreds of dollars to color, cut, and style my hair over the years. In 2015, I paid $600 for an ombré, and another $100 for a haircut later that year. The thought of that makes me sick to my stomach now.
That very day that I was cutting off my mom’s remaining hair we were living in the hospital. My mom needed a full-time caretaker, so we didn’t work for the entire year and solely relied on the kindness of others. We lived off of the gifts other people had given us in the form of time, money, food, and rides to the hospital. I saw how people who were struggling so much with their finances would bring my mom the very little money they had. I saw how people who did not have transportation find a way to come visit my mom in the hospital. It was after seeing everyone’s help that my God humbled me to the floor. Everyone from my husband’s family, to my church family, to my mom’s loving employers and even strangers helped pay for our food, rent and bills.
I realized it then, how much I had always ignored the needs of the people around me. Prior to my mom’s diagnosis, I hadn’t ever taken the time to really think about if anyone desperately needed any help or resources in any way. I assumed the older adults—other people—would take care of that. With my realization came a deeper sense of responsibility and accountability. I remembered the little boy in my own church battling cancer, the sick elderly women who was not able to clean her house, the little boy whose father abandoned him, and the people who were simply struggling with finances. Typically, I would’ve been so absorbed with my own needs—my own vanity—that I wouldn’t have given their situations much thought.
My mother’s cancer humbled me to the ground, and I thank my God for it. There’s a fine line between self-love and selfishness, and vanity does not equal self-love.
Cutting off my mom’s hair brings a smile to my face because hair grows back, but even if it didn’t, I was able to experience those sweet, intimate moments with her. And as she heals, I am learning to put things back into their proper place.
Ruth Yepez-Bruce is a passionate artist and poet, often drawing inspiration from unconventional life with her husband. She loves travel, gardening, and art history. Her career goal is to work as a physician assistant.
Check out her art and follow along with her journey on instagram: @akllasisa_