“When this is all over,” I told my son, Alex, “no matter what, I’m writing a memoir, a record of all we’ve been through together.”

He looked at me a bit apprehensively, but smiled anyway. He knew there would be no stopping his mom!

“I’m going to call it Tumor Me,” I told him decisively.

“I think that title might get lost on a few people,” he answered glibly.

“Maybe, but I think it’s perfect. You’re always so upbeat, so funny, even with all you’ve faced. When I feel like crying, you make me laugh. Every day you have me chuckling. It’s a paradox, really. I don’t know how you do it.”

He grinned again, his azure eyes twinkling, an uncanny wisdom lying behind them. I recall that conversation vividly, and in retrospect I suppose he was right. Some folks might be offended by the title, but humor me a bit, will you? For I have a story to tell, one that has a beginning, a middle, and an end.

It’s a tale of trials, fears, unknowns, and desperation. Yet it is countered with hope, determination, bravery, and unparalleled optimism that only my son could have mustered.

And who was my son? He was a CAL FIRE firefighter, a Fire Apparatus Engineer, a Fire Inspector, a fighter, a friend, a confidant; he was responsible, trustworthy, funny, respected, and loved. He listened, he contributed, and he worked hard. Laughter was his sidekick and everyone knew it.

So, who was Alex? He was a man, who, when the chips were down, had 4,482 hours of leave (as opposed to the usual 100-200 hours) donated to him by his co-workers through CAL FIRE’s Catastrophic Leave Bank. It was an unequaled gesture of love and support from his “family”.

The words between the covers of this book tell our story. It’s a mom’s perspective and every bit is true.

Note: A portion of the proceeds from the sale of this memoir will be donated to the American Brain Tumor Association.