The One Where The Mom Wasn't Terminal

So, remember the "Weeks In Cancer"?

I texted my mother, asking how her meeting with Hospice went this afternoon. Nanoseconds later, my phone rings.

"Where are you?"

"Sitting at the piano. How are you?"

"Well..I asked my Hospice nurse how my biopsies looked and she said..'Negative.'"

"Negative? Like she wouldn't tell you? Negative what?"

"Negative for metastasis."

I'm as silent as when she told me she had two months to live.

"Wait, so what you're saying is - "

"It was irritation from the radioembolization getting into an errant blood vessel, not carcinomatosis."

"Wait, so what you're saying is - "

"Surgery is most likely back on the table."

I feel like a parrot. "Wait, so what you're saying is....you're not dying next week."

"No. But we're still going to Brooklyn."

WELCOME TO A YEAR (or more?) IN CANCER.

Surprise, bitches! Time to LIVE!