When you think of breast cancer, you never think it will happen to you or a loved one—until it does. How something so surreal, in the quick blink of an eye, becomes reality.On Thanksgiving of 1998, my mother had her mastectomy—the removal of the breast. Due to the severity of the stage it was in, the doctors were forced to remove the whole breast. The morning of her surgery, my step dad, grandmother and the women’s prayer group from our church sent her off with a deep prayer. The energy in the room was so high and it caught me off guard. I was sad, but everyone else seemed to be lively. Being raised in a Christian household, I later understood why.
I vaguely remember my mom saying, “I’m going to beat this, we have to trust God.” During the beginning of this process and throughout the duration, my grandmother became superwoman, my step dad became super dad, and my mother’s close friends were there 24/7 as well. Also as a result, my mom had to close her home daycare.
In January 1999, the cancer came back, causing my mom to have a second surgery. It was then that I found myself disconnecting. It was so hard for me to deal with––to be there for her and to be there for my sister. Writing through my tears right now, I remember my granny taking my sister and I to the hospital to visit my mom. While walking up to the ICU, I began to feel heavy and my eyes began to fill with tears. Finally arriving outside of her room and only being able to look at her through glass doors immediately took a lot out of us. I don’t quite remember whether we went inside the room or not, but I do remember my mom signaling my granny to take us home, which she was already preparing to do.
There seemed to be minimal breaks between hospital visits, school, homework and extra-curricular activities for both my sister and I. I was overwhelmed, and at times it was even hard for me to help out. The easiest way for me to deal with it was not to—and I regret that. After a few months and entering into high school, I was able to step up a little more. Dealing with life-changing circumstances like this not only affects the person, but it affects everyone around them in various ways.
Prior to undergoing six months of chemo, my mother cut her hair short, which in some cases reduced your chance of hair loss. In this case, she didn’t lose any hair, and we all laughed about it later, although her laugh had some dryness behind it (smile).
After two surgeries, six months of chemo, being on medications for seven years and having breast reconstructive surgery, four years later, my mom is cancer free! My mom is a very strong woman and underneath all of my fear, I knew she was going to beat it.
