For the last two years, I have been standing by my mother’s side as she struggled to beat a rare eye cancer that the doctor’s found. Every time it had seemed to be getting better, the cancer took a vicious turn and proceeded to get worse. In the first six months of her diagnosis, there were growing tumors on the inside of her left eye, and there were only two options left for my mother; surgically remove the left eye and have it replaced with a glass one, or let the tumor slowly grow and suffer a painful death. Anyone with half a brain would choose the eye surgery, which is indeed what my mother had decided upon. However, before the surgery even took place, we knew that there was another small tumor beginning to grow by her right eye and was bound to spread. Doctor Hughes, my mother’s ocular oncologist, informed us that she would most likely need her right eye surgically removed in no more than two years, if the tumor continues growing at the same rate.

Three days ago, my mother had another appointment with Dr. Hughes, and like always, I tagged along. The appointment seemed to be going fine, until Dr. Hughes sat us both down in his conference room with sorrowful eyes.

“Hannah, I am sorry to inform you that your cancer has spread into your right eye and in order to catch it in time before it spreads to more dangerous places, we will need to undergo another surgery to remove it... I am so sorry Hannah".

My mother began sobbing uncontrollably. Living with sight from only one eye was hard enough, but now she would be completely blind. She wouldn’t be able to watch another one of my swim meets, or read from the hundreds of books she keeps at the house. As she sobbed, my heart dropped to my stomach. I can’t remember anything else from the meeting; I don’t think I’d want to know anything else.

My mother’s surgery was planned to be on Monday, making it so she would be able to see one last swim meet of mine this Sunday at our local YMCA. There was something inside of me that made me determined to make this the best meet I’d ever raced; beating my personal record, and making an everlasting image for my mother before she saw nothing for the rest of her life. I had to make it a great meet; I had to be champion.

Sunday morning rolled around faster than I could ever imagine and before I knew it, I was standing on the diving board, my toes just off the edge of it, dangling directly over the crystal clear pool. The smell of chlorine filled my nose, and a smile pulled at my lips. I had always felt like the water was part of me; that I was invincible in the water. I bent my knees, placed my hands over one another and raised my arms over my head, so my forearms were covering my ears. I leaned down towards the water, waiting for the cap gun to sound. I glanced to my right at the bleachers and saw my mother sitting in the first row. She gave me a thumbs up, however she looked so miserable. She was going to be fully blind in less than 24 hours and there was nothing any of us could do about it. A single tear sprung from my eye as I looked at her and imagined what kind of future was out there for her.

The cap gun noise caught me by surprise and I flopped into the water. As the water surrounded me, I felt heavy, almost like I was drowning in sorrow, and I began thrashing my arms and legs sporadically in all directions searching for air to fill my lungs. I gulped in the familiar taste of chlorine water as a arm grabbed around my waist and pulled me to the surface and up onto the cold cement surrounding the pool. I began gasping for air, coughing up water, as my mother ran towards me in panic.

I couldn't believe it. I blew my one chance for my mom to watch me swim before she went blind. I couldn't help but cry, tears streaming from my face. My mother squatted next to me and stroked my wet hair, attempting to calm me down.

"It's okay, Olivia. It's okay, sweetheart. Mom is here." my mother cooed in my ear as she pulled me into her side, comforting me with the warmth of her body.

On our way home, I silently vowed to never go in the water again, the memories being too painful to withstand. "I have to be strong for my mother". She was going to need me now more than ever before with her surgery first thing in the morning.

The next morning came faster than I expected, and before I knew it, I was in the car with my mother, driving to her appointment for surgery. We pulled into an empty parking space and walked through the parking lot and passed the automatic doors. I could clearly see the worry and tension that my mother was holding, the future for her being unknown. We both knew that this was a dangerous procedure since the tumor was growing closer to her brain, but the last surgery was successful, so this one had a great chance of being successful as well. I kissed my mother on her check as the nurse escorted her into the back rooms, and I proceeded to take a magazine from the rack by the fake, standing plant and sat in a wooden chair with a cushion on the seat of it.

I eventually lost track of time, the minute hand on the clock hung on the wall opposite me seeming to take its sweet time as my nerves grew into a tangled mess. It seemed like days later, but the clock revealed it was only two hours later, Doctor Hughes came into the waiting room and waved me over to follow him. As we started toward the room my mother was stationed in, he informed me the surgery went very well and my mother was a warrior like she always is. He lead me down a narrow hallway, taking a sharp left after the corner, revealing my mother laying peacefully in a reclined hospital bed with gauze wrapped carefully around her eyes. On our way to the room, Doctor Hughes also informed me about the gauze and how it would have to stay there for a couple of hours, and how my mother might have a hard time recognizing voices. However, he did mention that all of her senses would increase due to the lack of sight.

"How are you feeling this time around?" I shyly ask, worried she wouldn't recognize my voice.

She immediately put out her arms toward me, to pull me into a tight squeeze. "I'm doing well, my beautiful daughter. I am sorry you had to wait in the waiting room for so long".

I was shocked, completely speechless by the fact that my mother immediately recognized my voice, the direction it came from, and how she hadn't changed a bit - still worried sick about me.

After an hour and a half, Doctor Hughes let us go home, knowing we'd been through this surgery once before. I had to help my mother into the car, out of the car, up the steps, and into the house but I didn't mind. I was just glad my mother was home safe and sound. We curled up on the couch and no more than 30 seconds later asked me to hand her the remote. Confused, I proceeded to place the remote into her hand and watched as she pushed the power button with little difficulty. "Just because I can't watch it", she whispered, ,"doesn't mean you have to go without. Plus I like the noise from it even if I can't see. I still know what is going on." We watched our favorite television show, How I Met Your Mother, for the rest of the afternoon into most of the evening. It was nearing 9:30 at night, and I decided we should both get to bed. As I guided her to her room and tucked her into her bed, I realized our roles have been switched in many ways, me being in more of the mother role while my mother now in a daughter role.

I leaned down to plant a kiss on my mother's forehead, but before I could turn to leave, she gently grabbed at my wrist and patted at the section of mattress that was beside her. I followed her nonverbal command and sat down next to her, my feet dangling off the edge of the bed.


"Olivia, sweetheart, I know you are upset with how the swim meet went yesterday. It was written all over your face on the way home. However, the best thing about life is even if you do fail, you have the ability to get right back up and try again. You are such a talented swimmer, much like I was back in my day. You and the water go together hand and hand. My mother once told me that 'Nothing is softer or more flexible than water, yet nothing can resist it'. In my eyes, that quote could belong to you, just as well as it could to the water. I need you to keep trying, for me, to go further than I ever could. I know you can do it. I have all faith in you my little mermaid. Don't give up your dreams, not for anything".

Tears started streaming down my face as I took in my mother's advice, word for word. She was right, the water makes me feel safe, like I was home. Once I hit the water, all the noise, sights, and thoughts that have surrounded me disappear, and it's just me and the water. I responded to my mother through sobs that I promise I won't give up our dream. She pulled me in close to her chest, and we both fell asleep there, in blissfulness dark and quiet.