Hold Your Breath

A couple of years ago, mom and dad took the family to Six Flags. We had a blast. Kids were over the moon running from ride to ride. We laughed, we ate, we rode every ride.  Except for Mr. Freeze. We walked by it several times and watched.  It was the most horrific, convoluted, upside-down, super-fast roller coaster we had ever seen.

We listened to the screams of fear, and shook our heads, no, no, NO...

And then mom got a crazy look in her eye and said Yes.
 
What?!! Who are you and where have you taken my mother?!

But she insisted. She said, just watch... the ride is only 60 seconds long. We can hold our breath that long. How bad can it be?!!!! (If I had only known....)

So, we got in line. Couldn't let her do it by herself. Families stick together and all that stuff. Anyway, the closer we got to the coaster, the queasier we got. Especially when the cute little teen-ager running the ride smiled and insisted we take out our pierced earrings. Hello? Put them right in this box, she said. You can get them when you get out. Ok. Earrings in the box. Step into the caged coaster. Strap youself in. Get queasier. Watch the countdown for take-off.

3... 2... 1.......

!#$%^&!!!##$%!!!

I might have thrown up but the centrifugal force of the coaster defied bodily functions.

We blasted out of the station and hit 60mph in 6 seconds. Our heads rattled so hard against the caged cart that I was sure a concussion was imminent. If I could have put together a coherent thought I would have thanked the sweet, angelic teenager for making me take out my pierced earrings. She saved us from being impaled by our jewelry.

The ride lasted less than 60 seconds. I think. When the coaster stopped, I realized that I hadn't taken a single breath. Mom was right, I can hold my breath that long. I looked over at her and got another shock. Her hair was standing straight up and she was laughing. And kind of dizzy. And yes, very queasy.
 
But, boy was she a hero to all the grandkids.  Grandma rode Mr. Freeze. Medal-quality moment in their books.

If only we could return to that kind of queasy. The kind that goes away when you step off the roller coaster. The kind that is worth it because it means you took the dare and survived. You get to go home and live the rest of your life.

Instead mom has been plagued by the queasy, nauseous, vomiting pains of pancreatic cancer these past few days.   The relentless reminder that this cancer has dug in and is not giving up.  How we would go back in a heartbeat to that beautiful fall day, and ride all the rides. Laugh with joy. Feel the excited energy of an amusement park.  Eat cotton candy and corny dogs.  Dare each other to ride the scariest of rides.  Amaze ourselves with our extreme courage.  And make all the kids proud.

Sigh.... Cancer is not for wimps.
 
Mom is now riding the ride of her life. The scariest of rides. And she amazes us constantly with her extreme courage, makes us proud.  Always.

So, hold your breath and take out your earrings. The ride looks like it's gonna get bumpy.

Mom, we love you!  And we are riding in the seat right beside you.  Families stick together no matter what.  You are Medal-Quality in our Books!