Ode to My (s)mother- family relations

I had a PET scan this am. I had been spiking fevers in the evening and the am. My cheeks were flushed. I was concerned my cancer had come back. I live in fear of a reoccurrence prior to my transplant that would diminish my odds of survival.
The PET scan was clean! Good news, but now I feel a little like an idiot for being so nervous. I know this feeling is probably unfounded because I’m not paranoid if my body REALLY IS out to get me (thanks for the quotable Dr. G).
Nurse Pat also told me I was right to call, which was reassuring, but I still hate the process.
The worst part of my cancer is notifying my family when something goes wrong. My (s)mother’s voice rises, she asks a hundred questions and repeats them indefinitely until I either phone my health care team for her or stop talking to her all together. She’ll call ten times daily, and it better not even cross my mind not to answer, or else she’ll be over as soon as she’s out of work. It’s hard to keep a strong face on for her. I want to be the one freaking out.
Jon puts on his stone face, but his shoulders sink. He starts to pout. He goes into Eeyore mode where everything is a downer. There is no silver lining to his cloud. He vents his frustration on Xander or me. It makes staying positive difficult.
The worst thing about this is, between these two I am not allowed to go anywhere by myself. I have no freedom. If I want to cry it’s usually quietly in bed. If I need to think, I’ll hide in the bathroom. I can’t keep this façade up forever.
Early on in my diagnosis, I was told my confidence was contagious. I’m still hopeful, but it’s getting a lot harder and the obvious anxiety and pity on the faces of everyone I see only makes it worse.
The rest of the reactions of my family are manageable. My father plays on his tractor. My sister also calls 10 times a day, but she makes me laugh and keeps it short. Yanellie only calls 3 times weekly, and Jen gets a pass for being the matriarch of X’s new surrogate family.
Being diagnosed at 23 poses some problems. I had been independent as far as having a family, a job, and a home, but more and more of my peers are staying with the parents until their late twenties. When cancer hit me my mom went back into overdrive, 10x more overprotective than when I was in college.
I used to “forget” to tell her about my appointments so I could control my own medical care. When she started to catch on, I’d invite acceptable caretakers. Now she comes to all my appointments. I try to go by myself. I like the independence. I like my doctors and nurses and think we have a dynamic alone that is not present when my (s)mother is present. But I also need to keep in mind what is best for her. I know she just wants what is best for me.
So here I go, round two tomorrow. It’s fighting time. I'm on my was to Dana Farber and I’m feeling lucky. Remember to keep cheering me on. I’ll be looking out for you.