Just no getting it

Mom wrote an essay in April of 2000 called “Just No Getting It.” This was at the point where, after several months of tumor counts mysteriously decreasing, she was being told that they were on the move again, that “the disease [was] progressing.” It was a heavy time for us, and I remember it well myself. A time when sometimes, with no warning, I’d get picked up at school by a friend’s mother, who would tell me that I’d be spending the afternoon and possibly evening and night with at their house while my parents were at the hospital. In addition to her existential uncertainty (in a very literal sense), Mom was in a lot of physical pain during this time, and she was often at the mercy of whatever side effects her various treatments brought on. “Here’s the thing,” she wrote, “there is no getting it; no comprehending the way in which things like this occur – or why.  There is only being with it.”

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