It took me years to finally accept you, and I will forever know your name.
I was ten years old when we first met. It started as a typical day for me. Little did I know, that day would’ve changed the course of our lives forever.
My mom introduced me to you and I didn’t quite know how to feel. I was confused because never knew you existed. I didn’t understand what you were, what you were capable of, what you could potentially do.
That day, my mom called us in a circle. She sat on her chair and calmly told us she had you. She said, “I am sick. I have breast cancer.” But like any child who didn’t know better, I didn’t understand what that meant. I looked at my older brothers to get some sort of clue – anything. They looked sad and distraught. We hugged and we cried that day.
I couldn’t get myself to accept what she just said. She couldn’t have been sick. She was Wonder Woman. She’s always been strong and healthy. She was always so brave and giving, those didn’t seem like qualities that meant “sick.”
As time went by, it slowly dawned to me that she was indeed sick. She started having frequent visits to the hospital. Her sisters started coming over to help. She wanted to play less. One day, dad said mom had to go to the hospital for a surgery and we could only see her after.
I walked down the hallway of the hospital and entered her room, and there she was resting. My dad softly kissed her on her forehead. There was a certain quiet I couldn’t explain. The kind of quiet that meant there was sadness all around the room.
Months passed and my mom grew stronger. She started being the happy, playful mom she has always been. She went back to cooking my favorite dishes and helping me with my school work. I knew it, she really was Wonder Woman!
Years passed and I learned more about you. I found out how scary you could be. I learned of how many lives you’ve taken and how many hearts you’ve broken. It was only then, that I truly understood why my brothers had been distraught that day. It occurred to me that we could’ve lost my mom back then. I didn’t like thinking about you. The more I learned about you the more I treasured her and every minute I had with her. I was glad you were out of our lives and I had hoped you’d be gone forever.
I’m twelve now and (wished) I’d forgotten all about you. But for some reason, you kept lingering around my life. One time after school, my friend and her mom came over. My mom didn’t know but I was watching her and my friend’s mom. They were talking about something serious, then next thing I know my mom showed the scar you left her.
I felt so much shame and anger. Why did my mom have to do that? You were already gone! Why did she have to tell people what you did to her? Why did you even have to come into our lives? I just wanted to forget you.
You came back. Unwanted, uninvited, forgotten – but back again.
When I was 21 years old, you have long been forgotten. You were a name nobody wanted to bring up. It was a sunny day and mom and I were driving to work. And for some reason the aura in the car just changed from “typical sunny day” to “I-need-to-tell-you-something awkward silence.” It was one of those moments you instantly knew something was wrong. You came back. Unwanted, uninvited, forgotten – but back again.
I didn’t want to believe it. My heart broke in a hundred tiny pieces. I wanted to stay strong and pretend everything was okay, but I just couldn’t. Tears started falling down my face and I felt helpless. To make matters worse, I was moving overseas in a month.
Like the Wonder Woman she always was, my mom went through chemotherapy with her heart on her sleeve. I moved overseas and video-called with her often to see how she was doing. She said she was going through chemotherapy and it was going well. She sounded so brave and sure and that gave me hope. Her light gave me a sense of assurance that we are bigger than our “unwanted guests.”
It took me years to finally accept you, and I will forever know your name.
I’m 22 now, and my mom finished her last round of chemotherapy. Yes, you have changed our lives forever, but we choose to be changed for the better.
I will forever remember you but no longer as the little girl who didn’t understand you, or the teen who hated you. I will remember you as the grown woman who has finally faced you as the obstacle you are.
Yes you can be daunting, but now I know you do not control lives.
You are limited.
You cannot cripple love.
You cannot shatter hope.
You cannot corrode faith, nor can you destroy peace.
You cannot kill friendship, shatter families, or suppress memories.
You cannot silence courage, nor can you invade the soul.
Your presence only makes me stronger, braver, kinder, and wiser.
The fear of your name no longer haunts my soul because I know that my soul belongs to my God and me.
Your presence only makes me stronger, braver, kinder, and wiser.
The fear of your name no longer haunts my soul because I know that my soul belongs to my God and me.
You see, cancer, You may walk into our lives, but you will never own anyone who has to face you. Cancer is a word that still strikes fear into people’s hearts. Sometimes it makes us feel powerless and alone, but we aren’t.
Years later, I finally understand why my mom showed her scar and it was nothing to be ashamed of. I’m learning how powerful our stories can be. Our speaking up and using our voices remind people that we are never alone. Our stories are stories of possibility, strength, and of hope.
Life comes with many challenges and things we’d rather forget. But what if sharing your story is the very reason someone else finds courage to face theirs.
“Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the assessment that something else is more important than fear.”
– Franklin D. Roosevelt
My mother triumphed over breast cancer in 2005, and she triumphed victorious again in 2016. But the battle isn’t over because 3 in every 100 Filipina women will get diagnosed with breast cancer in their lifetime.
Today, I stand as a voice of hope to every woman facing the same battle my mom did. My partnership with Kasuso Foundation has given me the opportunity to hear and share stories of hope.
We were lucky to have had enough resources to give my mom the medication and therapy she needed that not a lot of Filipina women fighting through breast cancer have. Especially now with the COVID-19 pandemic we face, cancer patients are more vulnerable and immunocompromised than ever. Their beneficiaries have lost their jobs, the patients have been prevented from going to treatment due to lack of funding. And this is where we step in as their ally, to help pool in resources that will get our patients the treatment they need as they stay within the safety of their homes.
Breast cancer, your name will forever be sketched in my heart. But as it stays there, I hope mine will be on yours, too, because I will be there with every woman whose life you come knocking on to.
You may be tough but we are stronger together.
With you all the way,
Breast Cancer Advocate.