My Mother's Guardian Angels

Ever since my mother has gotten older (she will be 90 in a few months) she finds new situations very stressful. An avid airline passenger, she no longer wants to fly alone. It isn't the plane but the terminal that frightens her. Airports are too big and too confusing: What if I don't know where to go? What if I miss the plane? What if I can't find you?

Well, you can always ask, I try to reassure her. But don't worry, I'll find you. Just sit down and wait. I'll come and get you.

But she is still stressed...

The last time she flew alone I saw her coming out of the arrivals gate on the arm of a young man who was carrying her suitcase. They were heading for the information desk.

Here I am, Mom, I called out to her. She thanked the young man, and turned to me.

Well, I prayed, and God sent me his Guardian Angel to look after me, she said.

That looked like a nice young man who was helping you, not an angel, I replied. There are nice young people around, you know.

Yes, when I thanked him, I told him: You were my Guardian Angel, she said with a smile.

I decided not to argue with her.

The next time the topic of Guardian Angels came up was a year or so later when we were going to the doctor's office together to find out whether a lump on her breast was cancerous or not. I had a feeling it was - the technician in the hospital where the biopsy had been done had come over to me in the waiting room and said: I'm not a doctor, but I think your mother's lump is malignant. I see enough of these to have a feeling about it. Make sure they do everything they can to help her - she is still so mentally strong.

I thanked him. His remarks - so unexpected - were strangely calming, preparing me for the worst.

So when the call came that the doctor wanted to talk to both of us, I was pretty sure that my mother did have breast cancer. My only thoughts were how she would handle being told.

As we came into the doctor's waiting room, my mother quickly scanned the area to find someone to sit beside that she could talk to. Her eyes zeroed in on a woman about my age who was sitting alone. I followed behind and sat nearby.

What are you here for? my mother asked the woman sitting next to her. She then added: I'm here because I might have breast cancer.

There was a momentary stirring as everyone in the room glanced up at my mother and then looked back down in embarrassment.

The woman glanced at me, then turned to my mother and said: I had breast cancer surgery 6 months ago. It went very well. The doctors are wonderful. Now I'm feeling great...

You had breast cancer too? my mother replied, astonished. You look... normal... healthy.

I do feel well, the woman replied, and went on to tell my mother what to expect, while I listened in on the conversation. The woman ended by offering my mother her telephone number in case she had any questions, or needed someone to talk to.

When the doctor finally called us in to tell us that my mother's lump was indeed malignant and would have to be removed, both she and I nodded as though the news were no surprise...

Did you know already? the doctor asked, puzzled.

The technician at the hospital told me he thought it was, I replied.

And I just talked to a lady who had breast cancer, my mother said. And she looks normal.

When we were leaving the doctor's office with our list of pre-op appointments, my mother turned to me and said: I was so scared, but God sent me a Guardian Angel to help me with my breast cancer.

This time I didn't disagree with her - I just nodded.