Scrambled eggs, well, any eggs

Today, I was searching through the fridge, cabinets, and freezer for something to eat for lunch. I have a lot of miscellaneous items, but nothing that formed a meal instantly. Well, except for eggs. Oh, eggs.

Eggs will always remind me of my sweet mom. During her last months, she ate a scrambled egg every morning with cheese for breakfast. Usually, I would make her egg because the worst part of eating to her, was watching the preparation of the meal. Having cancer, and being on chemo, makes a person easily want to fore go any food. So, having to painfully prepare an egg, she didn't even want to eat was worse than eating it at all. Makes sense, right?

As, I scrambled my two eggs with cheese, I realized how I tried to be sneaky with Mom's eggs. I would always try to add a little more cheese, or possibly add another egg. Everyday I would ask her, "How do you feel about two eggs today?" She would always kindly say, "Not today, thank you, sweetie". As if, maybe tomorrow she'd be up for two eggs. Never was this the case, but I thank God she made me think that it was not a permanent situation.

Then, I began to think, how strange? How strange it was for me to really think an extra egg would save her life. Her weight had gotten so low, that I thought if we could just pack on any extra calories, even 80, from an egg that she may live longer. That could be true, but it wasn't.

When you are battling cancer with a loved one, someone so dear as your mother, I suppose you cling onto any little teeny tiny bit of a hope and if that's an egg for you, keep it going.