Countless cancer patients across the country have found inspiration in Rachel Platten's song "Fight Song." For my mom, Linda, this song became a powerful anthem during her battle with inflammatory breast cancer. It wasn’t until I stood by her side through this struggle that I truly grasped the importance of fighting for life and the appreciation for each day, breath, and moment.
Every year, we eagerly anticipated our beach vacations, filled with waves, laughter, relaxation, and cherished moments together. In August 2014, while enjoying a beautiful day at the beach, I noticed a red rash on my mom's chest. We initially dismissed it as a possible irritation from something in the ocean.
Upon returning home, my mom consulted her general practitioner, who prescribed a topical cream for two weeks. However, by the third week, her breast had swollen significantly, and the rash had expanded. She was then referred to a dermatologist, who performed a skin biopsy. One morning during our daily good morning phone call, she told me she had gone in for the biopsy and would receive the results by the end of the week.
On Wednesday, she called again, her greeting of "Hello, kiddo" accompanied by a heavy silence. Sensing the gravity of the situation, I told her she didn’t need to say more and that I would immediately drive from my home in West Virginia to hers in North Carolina.
When a loved one is diagnosed with cancer, life becomes an immediate whirlwind, and you quickly realize you need to be on your toes. Our journey began with back-to-back appointments: oncologist visits, radiation, MRIs, additional mammograms, port insertions, surgical biopsies, and coordinating chemotherapy, all packed into a mere three days. Life as we knew it would never be the same.
Inflammatory Breast Cancer (IBC) – what exactly is this type of cancer? What is the best-case prognosis? The more I learned, the more I told my mom: "Don’t focus on the odds! Every life and every fight is unique."
All my mom wanted after her diagnosis and throughout her journey was to continue enjoying the activities she loved—tending to her beautiful landscaping, volunteering with Meals on Wheels, and working. Her doctors assured her that she could maintain these pursuits for as long as she was able, and she did just that. From September to May, she pushed herself to go to work, even on days when she nearly passed out at her desk from exhaustion. She continued delivering meals with her best friend, always staying positive about the contributions she could still make in the world.
Throughout this time, from September to June, my mom underwent aggressive chemotherapy, including the notorious "red devil," multiple radiation treatments, and eventually surgery. The side effects, particularly neuropathy, became almost debilitating. After her mastectomy in June, she believed she was on the road to recovery, ready to regain her strength and independence. All signs indicated that the cancer would be gone.
Inflammatory Breast Cancer (IBC) is an incredibly aggressive form of cancer. Patients face constant challenges with skin lesions and open wounds, while the disease spreads through tissues and lymph nodes, often leading to a high probability of metastasis. In my mom's case, it became metastatic right before our eyes, spreading with a ferocity that felt like wildfire. Questions plagued us: Did the cancer ever truly go away? Had it always been lurking, hidden from view? How could my mom, who fought so valiantly against cancer, now be consumed by this relentless beast?
Witnessing my mom, a once strong and independent woman, being overtaken by cancer was the most painful and eye-opening experience of my life. She approached the entire journey with remarkable strength and determination, pushing herself daily to do whatever her body would allow. Despite the circumstances, she maintained steadfast hope. Even on her darkest days, when side effects from medication weighed heavily on her, she managed to laugh, joke, and consistently inquire about the well-being of others. Everyone around her felt uplifted by her spirit, even as they knew she was the one fighting cancer.
In August 2015, as we drove from North Carolina to West Virginia through the beautiful Appalachian Mountains, the reality of her prognosis began to sink in for me. Would any treatment provide her with valuable additional days or months, or would the burden of such treatment be too great? Should we choose options to prolong her life or to improve its quality? My mom, however, always believed she had plenty of fight left in her and was determined to beat cancer.
As a caregiver, I witnessed my mom slowly dwindle away, her vitality fading before my eyes. I recall the day I looked into her eyes and noticed that the sparkle was gone—the glimmer of life had diminished. Though she didn't explicitly acknowledge that she was dying, she still showed up for her chemotherapy treatments. Despite our unspoken fears, the doctors never mentioned her prognosis was grim or suggested giving up. We chose to believe that physicians can’t fully predict the future and, like us, they also cling to hope. My mom never gave up!
My mom passed away on October 25, 2015. She never talked about dying, and I don’t view her silence as denial but rather as a choice to embrace life. For her, the battle was ongoing. She often told others on their cancer journeys that there is always hope, life to be lived, and moments to find joy. She encouraged making every day special and reminded us of life's preciousness, as we never know what tomorrow holds. Each of us has our own "Fight Song."
I am grateful for the opportunity to share our story as a tribute to my mom and to all those facing their own journeys.
Mom - I love you and miss you. Your beautiful soul touched so many lives and continues to make an impact in this world today.
To learn more about IBC and make a contribution to the foundation visit https://ibcresearch.org
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