The Best Part of Me

October is Breast Cancer Awareness month.

We, unfortunately, joined the millions of women and families affected by breast cancer back in 1997 when my Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer.

I still remember the moment that she came through the door. I was on the phone with Stacey. I was 15. The look in her eyes chilled me to the core. I told Stacey I had to go.

I was sitting on the arm of the couch when she told me, and my Dad that she had cancer. It was one of those moments – when the world seems to come to a halt – and you know that life will never be the same.

And it wasn’t.

I remember writing in my journal the day of her surgery. I remember feeling so mad at the universe. I remember my Dad telling me everything was going to be okay, and I remember snapping back at him not to tell me that because he didn’t know that for sure.

I remember after beginning the chemo treatments, I came downstairs one morning and saw my Mom looking in the mirror, pulling the beautiful black hair out of her head with tears streaming down her face. She was so strong, but I believe this was one of the hardest parts for her.

I remember laying on the floor next to the couch holding a bucket for her, if she needed to throw up after treatments.

I remember going with her to pick out a wig, that she rarely wore because it was uncomfortable and itchy.

I remember my “friends” telling me that I was so lucky because I got out of school early a few times to go to chemo sessions with my Mom.

I remember these same “friends” telling Stacey that I was not much fun anymore, since my Mom got sick.

I remember crying on my bed, feeling so overwhelmed, and my Mom coming in to comfort me. We cried together, and the next day I skipped school, she skipped work and we had a “mental health” day together.

I remember the day that we found out the surgery and chemo had worked. She was cancer free.

I remember the first Susan G. Komen “Race for the Cure” we attended in Vermont. We cried so hard crossing that finish line. My Mom? She was a survivor.

10 years later, I was sent to have a mammogram by my doctor after she felt a lump. Thinking it was no big deal I went to the appointment by myself. I watched my doctor’s jaw drop when she showed me the x-ray. It needed to be bioposied, because “it didn’t look good.” The radiologist hugged me. I have no recollection of the drive away from that hospital back to work. I made it through the office door before I started crying. Amy hugged me, listened to me, and Stacey met me back at home. For an entire weekend I cried, ate chicken wings, and watched Gilmore Girls in my bed. I was terrified. My Mom was terrified. And as I cried to her on the phone that I could not do this, I wasn’t as strong as her, she said one thing to me that I will never forget. “Yes you are, you’re the best part of me.”

As it turned out, I did not have cancer at that time. 4 mammograms, 3 ultrasounds, and 2 biopsies later I was given the diagnosis of fibroendenoma. Harmless. I was one of the lucky ones.

It was soon after that scare, that Stacey and I decided we were going to create a day to celebrate my Mom. Her strength. Her will to survive. All that she had been through. We named it SandyB day. We picked October 30th, because October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. We send pink flowers, and pink presents, and take a day to acknowledge how strong she is for what she has survived. She’s even stronger now. She has been cancer free for many years, each of which I’m grateful for. And every July we have participated in the Race for the Cure to give back and show support, to join with a community of strong men and women who walk and run in rememberance and celebration of their loved ones. Survivors are to be celebrated, and there is no one I know that is more of a survivor than my Mom.

She is beautiful, caring, kind, loving, and incredibly strong. She is everything I want to be when I grow up. She is my hero and in truth, she had it wrong because she is the best part of me.

I love you, Mom – Happy SandyB Day!