I always talk a lot about my mom during Breast Cancer awareness month. I guess, for me, they go hand in hand. You already know I lost my mother to breast cancer. You already know I am a huge advocate for breast cancer awareness. Today, i'm going to tell you why.
In 1977, we lived in a not so good part of Tucson. My sister, had 'hooked up' with the neighbor boy, Ricky. They had their typical young teenager relationship which meant...nothing. I mean, she was too young to date, my dad was strict, end of story. My dad did like Ricky a lot, and they spent a lot of time working on the car together, and talking in the back yard. Very nice.
There came a point where it all went haywire. I'm not even sure why. In fact, as I sit here racking my brains, I have no idea. But all of a sudden, the neighbors hated us, and in that neighborhood, it was a bad scene. Our house was under constant barrage. Eggs being thrown, rocks, obscenities. I used to ride the bus home from high school, across town, and I got home after dark. I would pray the whole way from the bus stop to the house, asking God to just let me get home with incident. It was awful. No way to live.
Finally, one day, Ricky and my dad almost got into a fist fit. Again, awful. Something that was said/done over the fence, and ended in Ricky, the little punk that he was telling my dad to "F off". Yeah, uh huh. My dad was not the type to take that laying down, and I remember that little punk jumping the fence with a 2 x 4 and going after my dad. It was one of the scariest moments in my life. Ick.
It was decided, right then and there, that we were going to move.
The hunt for a new home ensued. Where to go? It seems we had lived all over, but continually HAD to move for some reason or another. So my dad decided to move to the East Side. It took awhile to find. A long while to get it all together and organized, paid for and done. But finally, it happened. We moved.
No longer did we have to worry about being assaulted or be afraid to be out in our yard at night. Life was good.
BUT, my mom went to the doctor. My mom had a breast lump. My mom had to go into the hospital to have a biopsy. My mom had a radical mastectomy. Just like that.
I remember waiting for the doctor to come out. Dr. Hirsch. He said the lump was malignant and needed permission to remove the whole breast. In those days, it was radical. The scar was from the breastbone all the way to midpoint under the arm. All the muscle was removed. I remember the pained look on my dad's face. I remember my sister crying. I remember just not being able to grasp the whole situation.
When my mom woke up she was very groggy. Not feeling well from the anesthesia. She had the hugest bandage wrapped around her chest. She had a drainage tube sticking out of her incision removing the fluid that built up under her incision, in her chest wall. She was black and blue already. I will never forget when her 'roommate' asked if her breast was removed, and my mom looked at me and said, "I don't know, was it?" I wanted to die! I did not want to have to tell my mom, this woman, this person that she had been maimed in surgery. She had come out not quite whole. A part of her had let her down, had failed her. She had breast cancer. I was 19, I didn't want this responsibility. I DIDN'T WANT IT! I didn't want my mom who I loved with every ounce of my being to have cancer. I didn't want her to have to start chemo and radiation. I didn't want to hear that she had cancer in her lymph nodes! I didn't even know what that meant. I didn't know what advanced breast cancer would mean for my mother...for all of us. I looked past my mom at her roomie, willing her to mind her own business. She did. She closed the curtain that separated us. She went on about her recovery as I stayed on the side with my mom. With the cancer. With the uncertainty.
Through the days and weeks to come, I learned a lot about breast cancer. I learned that my mom's advanced cancer was due to lack of awareness. Yes, she had found the lump in her breast. Yes, she worried about it, wondered what it was. Yes, deep down she knew that there was the possibility it could be bad. Maybe she should get it checked, she thought. Maybe tomorrow. But first, she had to find a home for us, she had to pack, she had to unpack, she had to make sure everyone else was alright, before she could take the chance of finding out it was something bad.
How do I know this? She told me. She knew it was something bad when our stupid dog, Barney, the black lab, wrapped his chain around the tree and my mom struggled to get him free. She got dizzy. She lost all her strength. She almost passed out. Something wasn't right...something was wrong. But, we had to move.
So, my mom underwent radiation. For weeks. It drained her. Then she started chemo. She lost her hair. She was sick all the time. But she fought. She fought with everything she had. But within months, the cancer came back. Her gallbladder was removed. It was in her hips. It was in her liver. It was everywhere. Finally, when it hit her brain, Dr. Hirsch said those dreaded words, "There's nothing more we can do."
My brother came to my job and said, "You need to come home". I was like, yeah ok, I'm working. What's going on? Although I knew! I so knew. He started crying. "Mom's dying". That's all he said. That's all he needed to say. I went home. I stayed there with her. Waiting. I talked with her. I asked her to hold on. What was I going to do without a mother? I was 19! But soon, she wasn't coherent anymore. She really wasn't my mom. The cancer had taken over. Then we just waited. We waited for my mom to die. To take her last breath. I'll never forget that day...not ever. I'll never forget the look on her face as she struggled to stay with us. Finally, as my dad stroked her hand he said, "It's okay, mama...be with God. We'll be okay." We said our goodbyes, and as the sound of her her breathing stopped, our lives changed forever.
Since then, I have been an advocate for breast cancer awareness. Because awareness is what is needed. Knowing the risk factors and trying to lower them is so important. Being aware of your breasts and how they feel and when to know when something feels different. Running to the doctor, because yes, early detection is SO important. So important.
I've known many women with breast cancer in my field. 29 year olds...and people in their 70's. i encouraged them and held their hand when they were scared. I cried with them. I never let them give up! Attitude, i told them, it's all about attitude. Awareness, strength, determination. It's all about beating the odds.
My worst story. (besides for my mom). A woman came in with some icky stuff on her breast. Dr. H. didn't know what it was, so when you're a surgeon, what do you do...you start cutting. So he's debriding this necrotic tissue, and it just is so gross. It smells like...death. It was so deep in her breast. It was black and nasty and seriously, I wanted to vomit. She just laid there with no expression. He looks at her and says, "How long has this been here?" She replies in the quietest of mouse voices, "Over a year." It was cancer. Cancer that had eaten through to the outside. The outside of her breast.
It's an ugly, ugly disease. When my niece "caps" that's she wants more than awareness, she wants prevention, to prevent it from happening, and I don't know how to tell her that I want that more than almost anything in the world. Before anyone I know and love gets it...before I get it. All I can do though is keep pushing my crap...keep talking to the women I run into everyday, and hope I can make a difference, hope I can talk just one lady into saving her life.
I guess because I couldn't save Mom's. I'm sorry. :'( I miss you, Mom. Everyday of my life.
So yes, eat healthy, don't smoke, exercise, and watch the hormones you put into your body. Feel your breasts and if you're 40, start getting your mammograms. The digital mammography they have now is very low dose radiation, and does not cause breast cancer. It's better than not knowing. Not knowing is the worst possible scenario.
At Susan G. Komen last week, I cry for my mom. I cry because she's not there with me in her pink "survivor' gear. She wasn't one of the lucky ones...and when I see those hundreds and hundreds of women fighting for the cure...my heart hurts. One because I want that cure so bad, I want breast cancer stamped out! Two, because it's too late for Magdalena Hernandez.
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