A Quick Bit About Catharsis & My Mom

For weeks leading up to my mom’s hemicolectomy, she gave away what equated to half a household of furniture, clothes, housewares, decorative items, etc etc, and more etcetera. Her diagnosis of colon cancer awakened a zeal in her for a new life, one cleansed of the past and unburdened by any attempt at a future other than one designed solely by her. As if until that point, she’d been living for others.

The local non-profits that gather donations for refugees gasped at my mom’s haul. As couches, chairs, and housewares – all in great condition – were being unloaded, my mom laughed, “I’m having my estate sale before I’m dead.”

Her surgery went better than my shivery anxious soul could have predicted. A week before her surgery, as I was reading up on side effects, I lamented, “Ugh, it looks like nausea and vomiting are common symptoms for weeks after the surgery.”

She adamantly said, “No. not for me.”

I laughed, “Oh really? You’re not gonna experience side effects labeled as COMMON?”

“I’m an outlier,” she replied, not a blink in her eye.

This is true. Anyone who knows my mom would say she is indeed an outlier and an eccentric one at that.

It’s eleven days post-surgery and guess who didn’t feel nauseous even once? The doctors say her recovery is due to her good health. The nurses said it’s due to her good attitude. I’ve decided to have no opinions on the matter.

My mom’s name is Barbi, but I call her Bobo. My brother-by-love, Craig, calls her Buppie. And Buppie calls Craig her “logical son.” Craig had a kidney biopsy the same day as mom’s surgery.

As Buppie Bobo was in the midst of cleaning out the farmhouse, she said to me, “This whole journey feels. . .what’s that word? Cartharc. ..” and then she trailed off, waiting for me to answer.

“Cathartic,” I answered. “Yes! Ca. .thartic! That’s what I feel.”

“I can see that. It’s kind of an awakening or purging.”

I looked up the etymology of catharsis and cathartic, and it’s specifically related to the bowels. How fucking perfect that the word she was searching for originated in the bowels, exactly where her stowaway tumor had settled?!

The closest I’ve come to a true bowel cleanse was when I was a member of a CSA farm and was so passionate about fresh string beans that I ate them in quick nibbles the length of the uncut bean. The string did not digest and instead inched its way out my asshole creating a tapeworm-panic in me that lasted only until the pull. I’ve never been into ass play, but holy lord the feel of that string flossing my sphincter made me wonder why ass dentata isn’t a folktale too?

We find out Thursday the results of the lymph nodes labs, which will determine if she needs chemo. I’m hoping beyond hope she does not. Either way, I need my own purging of fear and woe.

Pic of mom from yesterday, recovering on the deck and getting her daily dose of Vitamin D