‘I have cancer,’ she said

I’ll never forget it.

It was late Friday night. My eyes heavy from a four-hour drive from New York City, to my hometown of Utica, NY. My stomach growling, hungry for snacks I knew my mother would have prepared. My excitement building as I thought of going hiking in the Adirondacks with my best friend the next morning.

Little did I know that just minutes later, all I would feel is shock.

I walked into my mother’s one-bedroom townhouse, and saw her sitting on the couch waiting for me. The TV on. Her smile bright. I set down my bags, and sat on the chair next to her. As my mother got up and walked over to sit closer to me, I instantly knew that something wasn’t right.

Mom & I enjoying our annual vacation two weeks before her cancer diagnosis

“I have cancer,” she said. My young, healthy, vibrant, beautiful mother uttered the ugliest three words I’ve ever heard.

My mind started to race. My body tensed. I could hear pounding in my ears as my mother continued to share a diagnosis I had always feared, yet never saw coming.

“The call from the doctor was brief,” she said.

“A blur,” she added.

He said ‘cancer’ and after that, she heard nothing else.

With questions racing through my mind, and the pounding in my ears growing louder, I worked up the ability to ask a question.

“Do you know how serious your case is?” I asked.

All she could recall were the words aggressive and stage two.

Or was it three?

She couldn’t be sure.

My body shook uncontrollably as my mother hugged me tightly, and repeated in a broken voice, “I’m going to be okay. We are going to be okay. I am going to be okay. We are going to be okay.”

A short time later when she finally went to bed, I stood in the bathroom and stared in the mirror. It was one of those moments where you know it’s all really happening, yet you still believe you’re going to wake up any second and realize it was just a bad dream.

I clutched my iphone in my hand. The time on the screen told me it was after 1am. But sleep was the last thing I could think about. I had questions, and I needed answers immediately.

With my stomach in knots, and my hands shaking, I began to google like hell.

Can you survive breast cancer?

How deadly is breast cancer?

What the are stages?

Will my mother lose her hair?

And I didn’t stop there.

I clicked on every link I could find. I desperately searched for information to prepare me for the frightening road ahead.

What am I going to feel?

What is she going to feel?

What do we need to be ready for emotionally, physically, financially?

I needed to know.

I took bits and pieces of information from various blogs and cancer websites. Not really knowing at this point what was fact and what was fiction.

In the days and months that followed, I quickly learned that time and experience would be my best teachers.

That night was the abrupt, and frightening, beginning of a tough, emotional, and enlightening nine-month journey that changed my mother and me forever.

That’s how I realized my mission. A mission to give Daughters Like Us one single place to find information on every step of the process. A place that helps you visualize the road ahead. A place to find comfort when you feel like no one understands. A place to connect with others just like you.

My hope is that Daughters Like Us will discover the special place, so that no one will be left Googling in the middle of the night, searching for answers.

Your place is here.

)
Angela@DaughtersLikeUs

Written by

Daughter. Blogger. Friend. Founder of Daughters Like Us, an online resource center & community of support for women caring for loved ones with cancer.

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