“Cancer affects all of us, whether you’re a daughter, mother, sister, friend, coworker, doctor, or patient.”

In May of 2016 when I got the phone call from my mom, I didn’t know how to respond. I was shocked, scared, sad, mad, all at the same time.

Less than a month before that phone call, my mom noticed some “puckering” in one of her breasts that brought her to the doctor. After a mammogram, she was diagnosed with Stage 2 Breast Cancer. They found two cancerous tumors in one breast and the cancer spread to multiple spots in her lymph nodes.

Through the phone receiver, when those words, “breast cancer” left her lips and entered my ear, my brain, I remember the world feeling both still and unreal.

What made it even worse was that my father-in-law had very recently passed away from Lymphoma. Our family was never - and will probably never be - fully recovered from his passing. His battle was long and absolutely grueling. My husband, John, was really close to his dad and our daughter’s absolutely adored their Papa. He was someone everyone loved, always smiling, always positive words to share, a true light.

And now I was hearing that word again: cancer. My first thought was how can all of this be happening at once, to the same family? And to someone who is so kind, who doesn’t deserve this? What I really wanted to say, which is something I tell my children not to say…actually, I take that back. I wanted to YELL. I wanted to yell that this isn’t fair. But that’s exactly what it was: not fair.

When someone you love is diagnosed with cancer, you never know the ‘right’ feelings to feel, the ‘right’ words to say or the ‘right’ things to do. I wanted so badly to feel and say the right thing, to do the right thing.

My family and I knew there was a long battle ahead for my mom, a battle filled with chemotherapy, the eventual loss of her hair, a double mastectomy and radiation. So we I tried to ease the day-to-day burden by making meals, sitting with her during her chemo sessions, reaching out on the phone when we couldn’t be there in person and being there to help before and after her surgery. I sent inspirational books, quotes and notes ….and of course lots of jewelry.

I am happy to say that after a year and a half of hell for my mom, (and I say hell, because that is what she went through, no sugar-coating it) that my mom was declared cancer free at the start of 2018.

When I decided to write about my mom’s battle with cancer, and I don’t know why I didn’t do it sooner, I called her on the phone to see if she would be ok with me sharing her story since October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. And during our conversation, I realized that I never asked my mom so many things about her battle with cancer. I now had the opportunity to ask her how this experience changed her and what the hardest part of all of this was?

My mom told me that she was forever-changed by cancer. She said that the chemotherapy, the surgery and especially the radiation (for her) were terribly challenging, but the moment after her surgery when she got to take a shower for the first time, and she looked down to see nothing but scars, she felt a real loss; “that was one of the most traumatic parts,” she shared.

However, my mom was also forever-changed because she now looks at life differently, in a new light. She told me that "the connections, the thoughtfulness of others” meant the most—that’s what helped her through. It wasn’t about the particular meal that someone brought; it wasn’t ‘what’ they said. It was the intent behind each meal, each phone call, each visit, each gift, each kind word. It changed how she saw humanity.

Over the course of our conversation. I got to hear many other words that overshadowed the cancer word, words like “light,” “connection,” “strength,” “empathy”.

It is true that my mom is forever-changed by cancer, but her heart, her spirit, her love of life is stronger and brighter than it has ever been.