Mom used to make this dessert when we were kids...we never knew what it was called so we all just called The Pink Stuff. It's made with cool whip, strawberry jello (the two things that hold the world together) as well as cottage cheese and fruit cocktail. Probably sounds gross, but we ate it like crazy. My oldest baby brother *loved* it - I think it was his favorite. Anyway, I made some tonight for the first time in many years. And - you guessed it - it isn't anywhere near as good as when mom made it. What is it about a mother's touch that makes everything taste better, feel better, get well faster? Even now when I don't feel well, just cool touch of her hand against my face feeling for fever immediately warps me back to childhood, and I know everything will be okay.
Mom got good news this week. The CT scan she had, looking for any additional cancer, came back clear. The doctors still caution that it's possible, once they get in to do the reconstruction, that cancer too small to detect on the scan could be present. But I'm fairly sure they are just covering all their bases. They've assured her that they see nothing to make them suspect its return, but they are just letting her know just in case. She has a great doctor; I thank God for his diligence, and for His mercy on the scan results.
It seems like cancer is running rampant - every time I turn around I hear of someone else battling it. One of my graduate assistant's just lost a grandfather to it. She got a tattoo on her wrist with a C-shaped symbol and the work "fight" in honor of his battle. It reminded me anew that my mom has battled this horrid disease three four times now. How do you live with that hanging over your head, mama? How do you face the day without gripping fear? How does daddy stay so strong for you, doing things that are gross, difficult, inconvenient? Not all men would take care of a woman like he takes care of her. How does he not live in constant fear that one day she won't be so blessed? 
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