You said she had what?

When I was 13, I broke my leg. I was aptly fitted with a blue cast from the top of my thigh to my toes. At first I thought I would be so cool at school, and I was. Kids felt bad for me and would help me with things like carrying my bag, and getting my lunch. But the novelty wore off quickly, and the blue cast just amalgamated into me. I crutched and hobbled my way around school wallowing in self pity. I even started scheming ways to gain attention, like falling, or asking for the hall pass during class just so I could walk through the silent hallways clicking my crutches extra loud. Then it came to me. I remembered I had been told a few years previous that my Mother had become ill when she was 13 , and missed a bunch of school. It must have never affected her because she turned out fine, Masters degree and all.
This was my big break! I called my Grandma to get the inside scoop (better amunition). When she answered, I told her I needed to know about Mom's childhood illness for a school project. She said it was lymphoma. In my naiveness, I thought yea, so? Then she dropped the bomb on me, telling me that lymphoma was cancer of the lymph nodes. "Wait Grandma, you said she had what?"
Cancer. That was a term I was well aquainted with. I listened on, lump enlargening in my throat with each word whe spoke. She told me of three hour drives, once a week from their small farm town on the Utah/Idaho boarder, to the big hospital in Salt Lake City for my Mother to recieve her radiation treatment. She told me of how petite my Mother already was before she got lymphoma, but that the radiation would just wittle her down in size even more. She told me of missing school, but that school was one of my Mother's favorite things. She told me of the doctor's diagnosis at the end of a year of radiation, and that her only prayer of living was to try an experimental drug (a very primitive form of what we know today as chemotherapy). She told me of thinning hair, skin problems, and much more, but I didn't need her to go on.
Nobody should have to go through anything like that, but especially not a 13 year old little girl, and most certainly not my Mother!
I ended our phone call with my mind churning. I didn't know which emotion would prevail. I hopped to my room and rocked myself on my bed. Questions swarmed. Why hadn't my Mother ever told me? Why her and not someone else, someone bad who deserved it? Then I couldn't think any more. I just waited.
As soon as I heard the car pull in the drive way, I rushed out to greet her. I smothered her in hugs and kisses. I never told her about my conversation with Grandma. She never asked me why I was acting so wierd when she got home. I just helped her make dinner, and went to bed.
I don't know if I ever got over how sheepish I felt about my broken leg, and that I had seriously thought about trying to miss school because I felt sorry for myself. When I got my cast off, I thought about the story my Grandma told me and just looked over and smiled at my Mom. I think about it often.