In childhood, there is more than likely the chance of looking at one’s own parents as invincible.

Even when faced with adversity, they’ve willingly put themselves in harm’s way rather than seeing their children experience the feeling of said pain.

When I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, I heard it and had an idea of what the future would look like.

But as my parents’ disabled child, you never anticipate the roles to be turned and hearing the bad news about them.

“The MRI shows a brain tumor.”

My Superwoman has a little chink in the armor: Meningioma.

While there is no need for panic, one cannot imagine existence without the rock of the family being here.

No, the tumor isn’t fatal nor will it be a reason for me to stop being the person who I confide in with my deepest secrets, my triumphs and pitfalls, or my source of sharing laughter and tears with.

According to the Mayo Clinic, “A usually noncancerous tumor that arises from the membranes surrounding the brain and spinal cord…Radiation therapy, female hormones, and genetics may play a role. In most cases, the condition is noncancerous.”

The good, being the obvious, is that it is not cancerous.

The bad being that it comes out from the spine and brain. She can’t deny being the mom anymore, as my MS shows up on the brain as well.

The ugly (or funny, depending on how you choose to look at the issue overall) is that she will probably be outliving everyone. Tumor, be damned.

Being a person with disabilities who is always putting a brave face to keep moving forward, it’s tough to get past the news of my mom’s tumor and keep the smiling going.

It is especially tough hearing that from the doctor, the one person who has seen every angle of you.

The smiles will keep coming, because what else can you do?

It’s not like these hands are going to upgrade to surgeon-status and take care of the issue by oneself.

So, I’m going to do the next best thing: comfort my mom and be her rock as she has done for me all these years of dealing with the MS.

It’s like the day I was diagnosed with the disease, she saw my sister in tears and asked her, “Is he dying?” My sister replied, “No.”

My mom said back to her in a way she knew best, “Then stop. We will cross the bridge if we have to.”

It is a spot no one wants to ever be in, much less when it comes to the rock in the family.

The best thing possible is to keep cool, accompany her to the doctors appointments, and ask questions that she might not have thought of.

Keep calm and smile on.