Many of us have been affected by breast cancer – sisters, friends, aunts, grandmothers, daughters and moms. All women who are just like you and me – they lead busy lifestyles, they love their family and friends, they have hopes and dreams and fears. One of those fears is probably the fear of this disease.
It is estimated that there will be over 276,000 new cases of breast cancer in women this year. The chance of a woman having invasive breast cancer some time during her life is a little less than 1 in 8. The chance of dying from this cancer is 1 in 38. But, the good news is that the death rate is going down due to early detection and better treatment.
There are some 3.8 million breast cancer survivors in the U.S. My Mom is one of those lucky women. She is a survivor.
This is her story.
Hearing the words
It was my last semester of college in 2003 when I got the phone call.
“Meg, they found a lump in my breast.”
Those words changed my world. This carefree 21-year old girl aged about ten years in a matter of minutes. I remember rushing over to my parent’s house to be with my Mom. I sat next to her and cried, trying to be the strong, supportive daughter, but was too scared to be. I remember struggling to ask the question that was on my mind, “Mom is it cancer?”
“Yes, Meg it is.”
My Mom had cancer.
It took me a long time to really wrap my head around that. It’s hard to attach a label like that to your Mom. Mom was never sick. Whenever I got the stomach flu or a cold, she always managed to stay healthy. She was as healthy as a horse. She rarely even had the sniffles.
But now, she had this big scary title, “A woman with breast cancer.”
We were all so confused because there was absolutely NO cancer on either side of our family. And certainly no breast cancer.
After lots of tears and vows to be strong. We were. The doctor immediately scheduled a lumpectomy and on a Tuesday, that nasty lump was removed.
Sort of.
Crumbling
Mom came home from the hospital and my Dad, sister and I waited on her hand and foot. We were just so happy that the lump that symbolized the most awful thing we could imagine was gone.
Then Mom got another phone call. The doctor told her that the tumor essentially crumbled when they were removing it and they couldn’t be sure that it was all gone. They were recommending a mastectomy, chemo and radiation to ensure that all of the cancer was gone. My Mom cried. And cried. And cried. She wanted to know “why?” “Why her?” “Why now?”
We all cried. Dad held her and cried, too. It was the hardest thing to see both of my parents crying and scared.
And the journey to recovery began.
Treatment
Mom had her mastectomy. She opted not to have reconstruction at the same time. She and Dad felt it unnecessary to have yet another surgery with the potential for complications. So Mom was left with one breast.
A port was installed for them to administer the chemo and she began treatments.
Her chemo treatments started out pretty well. She was a lot more tired than normal, sure, but not really nauseous or anything. We felt so blessed that things were going well. The lump was gone, all the parts that could have been left in the breast were gone, too. Her lymph nodes were clear, and they did the chemo just to be on the safe side.
She did lose all her beautiful thick hair, her eyebrows and eyelashes. She actually looked pretty darn cute as a baldy, though! Whenever her hair was starting to come out in clumps, she decided to go to her stylist and have her shave it all off. The patchy pieces just made it worse. She thought it was best to just get rid of it all.
She had cute wigs. And had fun with different hair colors and styles.
Mom never complained. She took it all in stride. She smiled, laughed and kept positive. Typical Mom – strong, strong, strong.
My college graduation came and went. She even threw me a graduation party that day. Cooked, socialized and did all of it with humor and grace.
The round that changed it all
Mom's second chemo drug was much more harsh. Taxitir is what I think it was called. Well that made her nauseated. Her skin started peeling. She got acne. She lost feeling in her fingers and toes. She was tired. And felt like doing very little. It was heart-breaking to see my Mom, normally so full of life, so run down and weak. The woman who never turned down a trip to Kohl's wanted nothing more than to rest and recuperate.
These rough treatments were done during the summer months, when Mom was out of school. So again, we were blessed. She was able to rest and recuperate, rather than work.
A little background, Mom is an English teacher and refers to herself as the Goddess of Grammar. Which is cute until she corrects you when you say things like “Me and Evan…”
“No Meg, it’s Evan and I…”
Needless to say my Mom is a strong-willed woman, and when the school year started again she was convinced that she was fine to teach her little darlings. We all pleaded with her to take a little more time off. She needed to rest and she still had one more round of chemo left.
But she didn’t listen.
The sniffles
On Labor Day, Mom got the sniffles. Her weakened immune system was no match for those germy middle-schoolers. Her sniffles quickly progressed into a full blown cold and Dad urged her to go to the doctor.
By the time they got to the doctor, she was having a hard-time breathing. She was checked into the hospital to be monitored. I rushed over to see her that evening.
I held her hand as she took these short, gaspy breaths that did not sound right. She was all worried about her lesson plans for the next day. I told her that I would be happy to write down whatever she needed and bring it to the school first thing in the morning. She smiled and settled in. I gave her hugs and kisses and said that I would be back the next day as soon as I got off work.
At 4:00 in the morning I got a call on my cell phone. It was Dad.
“Meg, you better get back to the hospital. Your Mom is very sick. The doctor doesn’t think she is going to live.”
I was calm for some strange reason, maybe because I knew that God was watching over us all. I decided that I should take a shower. Strange that I remember that. Anyway, I took a shower, dressed and headed to the hospital. And there was my Mom laying in a hospital bed…in a coma. She had tubes down her throat and there were machines everywhere.
And my Dad...was broken.
It was like this surreal dream that I was going to wake up from, but just couldn’t.
My sister rushed home from Waco where she was going to school and we all waited. And waited. Hours in the intensive care waiting room. Friends and family came to visit. They brought us food and support. We didn’t eat.
Mom’s body was fighting pneumonia and the coma was to help her body recover more quickly.
My sister and I focused our efforts on trying to take care of our father. Who wouldn’t go home to sleep. He only left the hospital to shower. He wouldn’t eat. He got sick from the stress. And had to wear a mask when in Mom's room. Which by 2020 standards is not a shocking site... but that made it feel more real.
The two people who kissed our boo-boos, taught us how to tie our shoes, gave us advice, taught us to be moral and caring women - needed us.
One week passed. One tortured long week.
And then, she woke up. They took out the tubes. She had a scratchy throat and just couldn’t believe that she had been in a coma for over a week. We hugged her, held her hand and thanked God for his mercy.
Answered prayers
She survived. She survived. She was a survivor! A survivor! We wanted to scream it from the rooftops.
Her recovery after pneumonia and the coma was long. She was so weak at first and had lost so much weight. But our Dad nursed her back to health and before long, she was the spark plug that we knew and loved. And the doctor decided that the last round of chemo and the radiation wasn't totally necessary.
A very special Birthday
When it really hit me that we almost lost our Mom was on her birthday that year. I must have spent $200 on all kinds of gifts, cards and wrapping, which was a lot since I was making nothing at my first job out of college. I remember hugging her so tightly and thanking God yet again that she was here and healthy. I just had to buy all these things because just a month before I wasn’t sure if we would be celebrating that day.
And today, exactly 17 years later she is in remission. 17 wonderful years. And in fact on October 12, Mom will turn 70!
My Mom battled and won. That Grammar Goddess, that beautiful, sweet, fun, amazing woman is a survivor.
Tears and Inspiration
I cry when I think about all of this. I often push the memories deep into the recesses of my mind because it was such a horrible time for me – for all of us. But I tell you all of this today because there are triumphs when facing this disease. There are wonderful stories of survival and inspiration.
My mom inspires me each and every day to be a better person, to push through adversity and to be as good a Mom to me and my kids. And oh what special moments and relationships she has with them.
So, my beautiful readers I am dedicating my month to the pursuit of early detection, prevention, supporting those who have been affected, and of course, to my Mom.
{I love this picture of my Momma with Elan at our fancy tea party a few years ago. It represents to me survival and the next generation of girls who we can help.}
5% of my profits from this boutique will go to the National Breast Cancer Foundation who are instrumental in providing support, education and early detection for women. MY goal is to sell $10,000 this month so that I can donate $500. Consider supporting my small business and this cause. Thank you for reading.
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