3/7/2023 0 Comments Pink super mom logoIt was lobular and estrogen-related, and was in one breast - three tumors stacked on top of each other like a snowman, and one more on the side. In August 2016, my daughter was diagnosed with breast cancer after her first mammogram. Being a stoic, she accepted her fate with characteristic aplomb. We were lucky: We had her for 21 years after diagnosis. Toward the end of her life, there was an environmental cleanup in her neighborhood that caused a metastasis and required chemotherapy, which failed. Over the course of time, she developed cervical tumors that eroded cervical vertebrae and required her to wear a halo brace for 15 months. She was more receptive to radiation, so that - and tamoxifen - was her treatment plan. My mom was diagnosed in January 1974, when radical mastectomy was de rigueur. I’m lucky to live in the Houston area where I can easily go to a great facility…but so many can’t. ![]() I get a mammogram once a year and a breast MRI six months later. In my yearly mammogram, a “suspicious area” was detected - I have very dense breasts - and now I go to the MD Anderson Cancer Center every six months. However, it returned and she passed away in November, two months before her 80th birthday in January. She had a radical mastectomy and did chemo and radiation, but she didn’t let that stop her she continued to garden and ski, and was zip-lining in Costa Rica on her 78th birthday. When they operated on her, they thought they took plenty of the necessary tissue. My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer at 73. More than two years later, tears still stream down my face as I type this. It took my mom, Lynne D’Angelo, who died on June 18, 2020, the day before my 33rd birthday. It gave us the opportunity to let no words go unsaid at the end, though as a young caregiver, I’ll always wonder what words we could have exchanged if cancer didn’t steal my best friend from me. The ugly blessing was that this disease showed us how important it is to live a life you’re proud of, to be kind and present, and to show up for others even if your body or spirit is broken - because you’ll need them to show up for you in return. The only comfort I take is in the clarity it gave my mom and me during her six-year journey through treatments. Metastatic breast cancer takes and takes and takes, and there’s no happy ending: A stage four diagnosis means you will die from the disease. The worst part is that according to the nonprofit Metavivor, only 2-5 percent of all funds raised for the research of breast cancer are earmarked for metastatic breast cancer studies. On the other hand, seeing pink-ribbon messages of hope and optimism around being a “warrior” causes me deep sadness, because my mom - and many others I’ve connected with in the metastatic breast cancer community - didn’t have a chance to win her battle against cancer. I feel so proud when someone tells me that they’ve made an appointment with their doctor, thanks to my urging. October is a month full of juxtaposing feelings for me: On one hand, advocating for mammograms and preventative female care is something I’ll speak candidly and frankly about with any woman in my life. I just read Katie’s story about her breast cancer experience, and I’m thrilled she caught it early, but devastated to share that my mom did not. These stories are tragic, moving, and occasionally encouraging - and we hope you’ll be as touched by these as we were. That’s why we compiled additional stories from readers who have helped their nearest and dearest grapple with diagnosis, treatment, and different outcomes. ![]() However, we were also aware that firsthand experiences are only part of the picture, because this disease can ravage entire communities. When we published Katie’s essay, we also asked for your survivor stories to show the diversity of breast cancer experiences: We received hundreds of harrowing yet inspiring replies. But the sad truth is, this disease is incredibly common, regardless of family history: 85 percent of the 264,000 American women diagnosed annually have no family history. While she does have a family history of cancer, breast cancer was a new chapter she hadn’t imagined facing. ![]() Earlier this month, Katie Couric spoke about her recent battle with breast cancer in a heartfelt personal essay.
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