It’s strange, though not surprising, that today is World Cancer Day and I happened to have standing plans to drive my grandma and great grandma to a doctor’s appointment. Out of all the doctors’ offices in Anaheim, my great grandma’s doctor’s office happens to be at Anaheim Regional Medical Center.  I sat in the parking lot and stared at the building where mom’s cancer journey began; it feels like lifetimes ago. I was having flashbacks to those first moments: “Your scan showed a large mass on your ovary that could indicate cancer.” I remember the deafening silence that followed. I remember writing these words during that hospital stay at Anaheim Regional:

Faith is so much easier to have when you don’t really need it. Sounds silly, I know. But you see, it’s the middle of the night and I’m sitting in a chair at my mom’s bedside in the hospital. I’ve always been unnerved in hospitals, but never like this. More than the eeriness of walking the hallways, or the awareness of all of the sickness here, or the strange noises coming from a patient down the hall, or the smell…you know what the most unnerving thing is? Sitting here in a dark room that is filled to the brim with questions, but completely void of answers. I like to think I have a pretty good head on my shoulders, but these are the kinds of questions that I can’t answer.

 

“Will my mom be okay?”

“Is it cancer?”

“If it is cancer, will she be okay?”

“If it is cancer, will we all be okay?”

“9 months after losing my dad, why is this happening?”

 Like I said, it feels like lifetimes ago. I got answers to most of those questions, except that last one. Nearly two years later we are all okay. This time two years ago we were in our last weeks of life as we knew it; life before cancer. During those first days and weeks when you’re still in shock upon receiving a diagnosis, it’s easy to feel like a victim of this disease. I mean, it is attacking you, but there’s this shift that happens as the shock begins to wear off. Most of us go through life thinking that cancer is something that happens to other people, and other families, it will never happen to you…and then it does. All of a sudden it was my mom who had cancer. And cancer goes from being a powerless word of something that happens to other people, to this dark, powerful enemy, that is attacking you or someone you love from the inside out.

Shortly after this happens you are faced with a choice and it is possibly one of the most important choices you will ever make. You have to choose between being a victim of cancer or to be a fighter and survivor of cancer. I thank God everyday that he gave my mom the resolve and determination to fight like hell. It might seem like an easy choice, who wouldn’t want to live? But it isn’t as simple as choosing life because what you’re really choosing is life with cancer. And life with cancer means hospitalizations, surgeries, treatment, side effects etc. It takes a strong person to choose life with cancer. It is not an easy life. It’s a life filled with countless doctor visits, pain, fear, isolation, long treatments, and a lot of days where you feel lousy.

I think as a culture we tend to give a sympathetic head tilt to someone battling cancer and maybe there is a time where that is helpful. But after walking alongside my mom through two cancer battles I think a more appropriate response to someone living with cancer might be applause, standing ovations, and endless high fives. What I’ve learned watching my mom and others throughout the course of her treatment is that they are the brave and courageous ones among us.

Everyday they are faced with the reality of their own mortality, battling a disease that could take their lives, but they get up, face the truth, and still, they choose to fight. The truth is, we each face the same mortality, but most of us choose to live life as though it isn’t so. Even after remission, a cancer survivor never goes back to life before cancer. Sure, on the outside it may seem that way, but on the inside nothing is the same. They continue “fighting” cancer long after it’s left their bodies. After a cancer diagnosis, a headache is never just a headache again. There’s that fear and nagging question “Is the cancer back?” I experienced this with my mom just last month when we found out she had fractured her leg. For someone who hasn’t ever been diagnosed with cancer a fracture would be simple enough to diagnose and soon you’d be on your way. For my mom, there was the slight suspicion that her fracture could have been a result of cancer spread. She was hospitalized for a couple of days and during that time she had a bone scan to rule out cancer. Thankfully there was no sign of it and it actually is just a fracture. A cancer survivor isn’t someone who “survived” cancer, it is someone who is surviving and living even beyond cancer. It is someone who chooses to embody what it means to be a survivor rather than a victim of cancer. The temptation is always there to live under the dark cloud of fear and what ifs, but continuing to choose life is what makes them true survivors.

Cancer patients are the gems among us that, truth be told, we look away from when we see because we don’t want to face our own mortality. I saw this so clearly during my mom’s cancer treatment, people in her life that I thought for sure would walk beside her were nowhere to be found. When the reality is, we should be taking notes; because I think when we’re honest we all want to live brave and courageous lives. We can start by being brave and courageous enough to not look the other way, but instead walk alongside those battling cancer.

If I could go back and somehow spare my mom of her cancer diagnosis, most of the time I think I would…but when I ask her if she would trade it her answer is always no. Because of her bravery and courage, she can see the value in the journey. Relationships that were formed, lessons that were learned, a fire in her heart to live that might have stayed only just a flicker. The list can go on and on. Everyday she chooses life, joy, and gratitude. And I’m amazed by her all the time, but today as we raise awareness, share our stories, pause and remember those who were taken too soon by this disease, I want to take a moment to honor the choice she made to fight, even when she wanted to give up. She is my inspiration and my hero. Momma, consider this your virtual applause and standing ovation.

I hope that in my lifetime I get to see a definitive cure for all forms of this disease and I am grateful for the men and women who dedicate their lives to research and science to make this hope a reality. I am especially grateful for the amazing doctors that joined mom’s dream team and continue to care for and support her.

None of us know what tomorrow will bring, tell the ones you love that you love them and tonight hold them just a little tighter and just a few seconds longer.