THE DAY CANCER TURNED PINK

Her name was Peggy

Her name was Peggy. No, her name was Margaret, but everyone called her Peggy. My name is Kelly. I am her youngest daughter. (Read: Who is MAB?)

This is Peggy’s story; the day cancer turned pink.

My Mom, My Friend

Besides being my mom, Peggy was my best friend. We had so much in common it was only natural that we were so close. It was almost like we could read each other’s minds. When we had conversations, it was common for us to finish one topic then start a whole new topic using the same words at the same time.

Mother Found a Lump

My mom found the lump in her right breast on my wedding anniversary. She didn’t want to ruin my celebration, so she didn’t say anything for about a week. She was like that, always putting others before herself.

She went to see her primary care physician (family doctor back in those days) who sent her for a mammogram. Of course, the mammogram showed something suspicious, so she was sent to an oncologist. Ironically it was the same oncologist my dad saw when he had colon cancer twenty years prior. (Read: The Day Cancer Turned Royal Blue)

The oncologist did some tests including a biopsy which confirmed the diagnosis. This was the day cancer turned pink, the color of breast cancer.

It was also the beginning of a long cancer journey that would eventually take her life.

At that time, I thought cancer was cancer. I didn’t know there were different types of breast cancer. That knowledge would come years later when I would be diagnosed with breast cancer myself. (Read: The Day I Met Cancer in the Mirror)

Radical Surgery

She had a radical mastectomy on just the right side. Mastectomies are generally more conservative now than they were then. When my mom had surgery, they took the entire breast as well as some chest muscle and lymph nodes under her arm.

She did not have a breast implant inserted because so much tissue had been taken to remove the tumor that there was not enough tissue left to reconstruct. 

In fact, she had so much trauma to her chest from the surgery that she had to learn to use her right arm again. She started by doing “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider” up the wall then back down again until eventually, she could do it without using the wall.

Then Chemotherapy

While she was still healing from the surgery, she started getting chemotherapy. The doctor inserted a port under the skin and into the vein of her left upper chest then sutured the skin back over it. The nurse inserted a needle through her skin and into the port. My mom was connected to different bags of IV fluid including chemotherapy and medicine to prevent nausea.

She tolerated the treatments better than I thought she would. Her biggest complaints were that most foods didn’t taste good anymore; and that she was bald. She did still like the fried shrimp dinner from the corner restaurant.

She Caught onto my Orneriness

We went to a wig shop to buy a wig when she lost all her hair from the chemo. I had fun having her try on some outrageous wigs making her think I thought she should get one of those. She caught on to my orneriness. In the end, she got one that closely matched her usual hairstyle.

After months of treatments, she was declared cancer-free. What a relief!

It was sad when she lost her hair from chemo, but even sadder that she hoped it would come back in curly, only to have it come back in straighter still and with multiple cowlicks.

But still, the cancer was gone!

The Bruise

One day about five years later, my mom called me and told me she had a bruise on the right side of her chest. I asked her if she had injured herself recently.

No.

I told her to stop taking her aspirin and make an appointment with her family doctor. The doctor wasn’t sure what to make of it, so she had her see the oncologist, whom she had not seen for a few years.

It Was Back

The cancer was back.

The oncologist said that when breast cancer returns it sometimes shows up resembling a bruise, but it is actually cancer in the layers of skin.

Grueling Cancer Treatment Regimen

My mom went through a grueling cancer treatment regimen. She endured weeks of strong chemotherapy that landed her in the hospital more than once due to low blood counts and a bowel blockage. Her blood counts were so low at times that she had to receive blood transfusions.

During one of her hospitalizations, she had something very disturbing happen to her. Again, she didn’t tell me about it at the time. I was not even aware that this thing had happened.

She Pleaded with Me Not to Take Her to The Hospital

The next time her blood counts went low, she pleaded with me not to take her to the hospital. I was confused. This was very much out of character for my mom.

I asked her why she didn’t want to go to the hospital. She told me that something bad had happened the last time she was in the hospital, and she never wanted to go there again.

I was taken aback. What could possibly have happened to make my mom react like this?

I asked her what had happened, but she said that it was very bad, and she didn’t want to talk about it.

By now my mind was conjuring up some very dark scenarios. I pressed her to explain what had happened. What, or who could have done something so upsetting to my precious mother?

Finally, she told me that one day when she was in the room alone some people showed up outside her window and kept beckoning her to come outside, but she was on the third floor of the hospital! She was terrified that the people were going to come in and get her and take her out the window.

My heart broke. At that moment I knew what was going on. I gently told her,

“Mom, there were no people outside your window. You were hallucinating from the pain medication. Why didn’t you tell me about this then?”

“Because I thought I was going crazy, and they would put me away.”

Oh, Mommy. How I wish I could have protected you more.

Radiation Therapy

This time when she finished chemotherapy, she went through several weeks of radiation therapy. She received such severe burns from radiation that she had to undergo hyperbaric oxygen chamber treatments to help the wounds heal.

The Chamber

She couldn’t understand what hyperbaric treatments were, or how that would help her heal. I explained to her that it was like what divers go through when they came up from deep water too quickly. The chamber squeezes extra oxygen into the tissue to help the burns heal. That helped her understand…somewhat. She wanted to know if she had to wear her swimsuit to the treatments. I told her we would have to wait and see.

When we arrived for her first treatment, they explained what the treatments would do for her and how they would do the treatments, then had her go change into a cotton gown with plastic snaps as no metal is allowed in the chamber. My mom was relieved that she didn’t have to wear a swimsuit. I just smiled a very sad smile at her. How sweet she was.

The Train

One of the instructions she was given just before they closed the door to the hyperbaric chamber was to let them know immediately if she started to hear something that sounded like a train. They made sure she had her call light firmly in her hand then shut the door.

After she was in the chamber and out of earshot, I asked the attendant why she would hear a train. They said that she could have a seizure during the treatment, even though she had no history of seizures. Persons who had seizures often said they heard a train coming just before they started seizing.

When my mom finished her treatment, she told me that she never heard the train. Wasn’t she supposed to? I told her that not everyone hears the train and that was okay. Inwardly I was greatly relieved.

Cancer Treatments Disrupt Lives

Cancer treatments are not only disruptive to the life of the cancer patient, but to the lives of everyone assisting them. Mom had frequent medical appointments to see the oncologist and to receive various treatments. I didn’t want my mom to endure these appointments alone, especially in case she got bad news, so either I or my husband accompanied her where she needed to go. On some occasions, her good friend went with her instead. Thank you, Shelly!

I felt anxious for my mom each time she was poked, became nauseated, or just felt ill.

No More Treatments

I was with her that day at the oncologist appointment, the day my world began to crumble. The oncologist explained to her that the treatments were not working. The only thing left to do was to increase the chemo, but that brought with it more side effects. Was that what she wanted to do?

My mom didn’t understand what he was saying, but I did.

“So, are you telling me this is what you need to do?” she asked the oncologist.

He looked at me for help. He didn’t know how to deliver the news.

“Mom, what he is saying is that there are stronger drugs to try, but they will make you sicker, and possibly have to go to the hospital more often. And he’s saying that they won’t cure you.”

“So, you’re saying that there’s nothing else that can be done?” She was crushed.

“Mom, what he is saying is that he can give you stronger drugs that will make you feel worse, but if you don’t want any more treatments, it’s okay to stop.”

She sat absorbing what had just been said to her. She had watched her diet carefully, keeping her blood sugar in a good range since she was diabetic. She had done everything that was asked of her. Now she was being told that it was up to her to decide to stop treatment.

Finally, she looked me straight in the eye and said, “In that case, I want to stop by Ken’s (the local drug store) on the way home and get some York Peppermint Patties.”

“Ok, let’s go.”

As we were leaving the office the doctor pulled me aside. He told me that I was the first person he had ever encountered who knew when to be a nurse and when to be a daughter.

That Plea Still Haunts Me

The burns never did heal. The cancer was never cured. My mom died and I wasn’t there with her.

She had become so weak that putting her in hospice was the best decision for her. The pain from the burns and the metastatic cancer was intense. She looked at me with the most pitiful look and said, “Help me, Kelly. You know what to do.”

That plea still haunts me.

I Wasn’t There

I had stayed at hospice with her every day since her admission, except for that day. I went home with my husband the evening before because I had a severe headache. My brother and sister-in-law, one of her favorite people in the world, stayed with her that night.

The next morning before I could return to hospice, another family member became ill and had to be taken to the hospital. While I was at the hospital, my sister-in-law called to ask me where I was, and I told her. She told me that I needed to get back to hospice right away. I told her that I would be there as soon as I could get there.

 I left the hospital immediately and made my way to the parking garage.

Before I even got to my car, my sister-in-law called me again and asked me where I was. I told her that I was getting into my car. She again told me that I needed to get back to hospice quickly.

It Dawned on Me What Had Happened

It dawned on me what had happened. I asked if my mom had passed. She just told me to hurry up and get there. I told my sister-in-law that if my mom was still alive and waiting for me that I would drive like crazy to get there as fast as I could, but if she had already passed that I would drive at normal speed. She told me to take my time and drive safely.

That was how I found out that my best friend had just died. Did she purposely wait until I wasn’t there? In her final moment, was she protecting me from watching her slip away from me?

My Mom and Her Bible

My mom read the Bible every night in bed before she went to sleep. I don’t recall how many times she read completely through the Bible year after year.

Crafts and Cakes

I got my love of crafting from my mom. She did many crafts besides sewing. Each year for Christmas we got a craft project of some sort as a present when we were kids. Sometimes I think she chose a craft for us secretly hoping that we wouldn’t like it just so she could do it.

She had a subscription to the craft-of-the-month club where she got a craft project in the mail. She never knew from month to month what the next craft would be.

I recall one kit was an old-fashioned car picture that she assembled out of just gears. That picture hung on the living room wall for many years.

Each year for our birthday, Mom would bake and decorate our birthday cakes. Since my younger brother and I have the same birthday, we always had to share a cake, but she made sure to decorate each half differently for each of us.

We all loved it when she started taking cake decorating classes because she had to bake and decorate a cake each week using the new decorating technique she learned in class. That also meant that we got to eat cake every week while she was taking the class.

I Felt Defeated

My mom was an excellent seamstress. She even had her own sewing business when she was younger. One of the saddest days of her cancer journey was when she gave up sewing. She couldn’t hold the needle anymore due to the numbness in her fingers from neuropathy which was caused by chemotherapy. I felt defeated along with her. The one thing she enjoyed most in life had been taken away from her. I think that is when she realized her life would never be as it had been before cancer.

A Great Role Model

My mom was my best friend, but she was also a great role model. She was an even-tempered woman until she wasn’t. But when she was finished being upset, she did not hold a grudge. She had some very difficult things happen to her while she was growing up, but you would never know it by her pleasant demeanor.

My mom was determined and hardworking, yet fun and ornery. She didn’t get caught up in the opinions of others. She would often say, “If they don’t like me that’s their problem.” I don’t know anyone who didn’t like my mom.

Faith, Family, and Flowers

My mom’s values centered around faith, family, and flowers. She was a devout Christian and raised her family to be the same.

She loved flowers. Every year for Mother’s Day I would get her a plant of some kind. This tradition started when I was in grade school. One year, as part of a science project, we planted marigold seeds in our half-pint milk cartons from lunch. It was our responsibility to water the flowers and observe them as they went through their different stages of development. We got to take our plants home to our mothers for Mother’s Day gifts. From then on, I always got her a plant for Mother’s Day.

Some of her favorite flowers were roses, lilies-of-the-valley, and peonies. One year I asked her what she wanted for Mother’s Day, and she said she wanted pink peonies. As we were leaving her house my husband asked me why she couldn’t buy her own underwear.

“What?”

“She said she wanted pink panties. Why can’t she buy her own?”

I laughed. He was not yet aware of the flower tradition and had misunderstood what she had said.

“She said she wants pink pe-o-nies, not panties. I always get her a plant for Mother’s Day, so I let her choose what kind she wants this year.”

Ladybug and Peonies

Her nickname for me was Ladybug. That is why I chose the photo of a pink peony with a ladybug on it for my website photo.

This is the story of the day cancer turned pink.

Comment below about your favorite memory of the mother in your life.

Wishing you all the best,

Kelly

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Yes, I am a nurse. No, I am not your nurse. The medical topics discussed in this, or any article on this site, are intended to be issues for you to discuss with your medical team if you feel they apply to you. None of the information you are about to read in this article is treatment advice for you from me. I do not have that authority.