The first time I ever heard of the enemy we call cancer, I was 12 years old. My Mother found a lump in her breast and it was stage 3 Breast Cancer. I was young and all I knew was my Mother would soon be very sick.
Over the next 6 months, I witnessed the disaster that Breast Cancer can cause. I watched my Mother undergo surgery, Chemotherapy and Radiation. Some days were ok and others not so good. But my Mother refused to let this disease defeat her. She took on all the side effects of treatment and battled them everyday with a HUGE smile on her face. My Mother had made it through treatment. She was back to work, bald and bloated from Chemo, as soon as the Doctor's would allow. Her courage was an inspiration.
Life went back to normal for the next 4 years. My Mother even used her bout with Cancer as a reason to change the path of her Nursing Career and was now an Oncologist. This was until August of 1999. I was now 16. I returned home from work one evening and my Mother was not home as I expected. I then noticed a set of wheel marks on the carpet, and began to panic. The wheel marks on the carpet were from the stretcher the ambulance had used to remove my Mother from the house. My Mother was in ICU and the cancer had returned, this time, with avengence. The cancer had now spread and was inoperable. The only option left was one large dose of Chemotherapy. The Doctor said "If this does not work, your Mother has 6 weeks to live." Six weeks to the day, on October 12, 1999, my Mother was gone. She was only 43 years old.
Alexandria, VA
