My First Pink October
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My First Pink October

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My First Pink October

It was late last February when I got the news. I was driving home from a doctor’s appointment when I saw my cell phone light up with “Momma Bear” on the caller I.D. If anyone knows my mother they know she is the brightest, happiest woman you will ever meet. I like to call her a mix of Ellen DeGeneres and Mother Theresa.

“Hey mom, what’s up?!” I cheerfully said into the phone speaker.

“Hi Madeleine, what are you doing?” My mother responded, somberly.

I knew something was up immediately as my mom’s responses are typically five to ten decibels higher in tone than how she sounded that day.

She proceeded to tell me I might want to pull over. I began to panic.

That’s how I found out my mother had breast cancer: 600 miles away from home, in my car, alone.

Growing up, I thought I knew what having a loved one battle cancer felt like. My grandmother passed away when I was in elementary school from colon cancer and it was a very hard time for me. Looking back on it now, however, I believe what made that time so difficult was not the loss of my grandmother, but seeing the pain it caused in my father’s heart. Cancer looks a lot different when you’re 20 than when you’re 12. 

Initially doctors told us we had caught my mother’s cancer early. We were lucky. There would be a one-and-done surgery and it would be smooth sailing from there. This gave me some relief as I attempted to go about life as normal as possible, as finals were soon approaching and there would be no way to go home and be with my family during this tough time. I decided to keep the news mostly to myself and only told a couple of close friends who consoled me and checked up on me as much as I would allow. While I am naturally I very outgoing person, I kept my emotions bottled inside and avoided the topic at all costs. 

As school trudged on, we got news that the cancer was more aggressive than doctors had perceived. My mother was to begin an intensive year-long chemotherapy regimen and would start radiation later in the summer. I was devastated, and my school and sleep schedule showed it. All I wanted to do was go home and be with my family. Friends asked if I was OK and why I always looked so exhausted but I always resorted to the “school is so hard” excuse. Something in my head told me that if I talked about mother’s illness out loud, it would become too real for me to handle. 

As I let the news wage war with my heart, I called my mother everyday. She not once complained or made any indication that she was scared, upset, angry or any other reasonable response to such a terrible situation. She always steered the conversation to me and if I brought up how she was feeling she always responded with a cheerful, “I’m doing just fine!” My mother’s optimism and strength was eye-opening. I was in awe of her courageous attitude, and her positive demeanor had a life-altering effect on how I viewed her disease.

When I was finally able to return home after finals, I found that my mother was just as happy-go-lucky in person as she was over the phone. She raved about her wigs, as she never really liked having to style her hair everyday anyways and spoke of how kind her doctors and nurses were. While I was busy feeling sorry for myself, my mother was living. She was experiencing the world in a way I had never seen anyone else do before. She and my father went on more dates, went on walks, picked up new hobbies, played with our dogs, plotted adventures, and much, much more. Instead of allowing the cancer to bring her down, she let it propel her to new heights. 

In late July me, my mom, her parents, my dad, his dad, my three siblings, and their significant others took a trip to Hilton Head Island, SC, a vacation spot we’ve been visiting every other summer since I was born. It was the happiest I have ever seen my mom. 

I think there is a common misconception when it comes to people battling cancer. We constantly use the phrase, “He or she is suffering from _____ cancer.” Well I don’t know about everyone, but my mom isn’t suffering from anything. My mother is fighting something, she is dealing with something, she is coping with something, but she definitely isn’t suffering. 

So this October, my first pink October, let’s come together in support of all of those fighting, dealing, or coping with breast cancer. Let’s forget about suffering, and instead, let’s learn to live.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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