My Promise to my Mother
Madonna
Who We Are Series, 2021
I didn’t intend this as a self-portrait and I didn’t sculpt from life, but it was done during a very real time of discovery, unknowns and decisions.
Learning to use the circular saw gave me an “I am woman hear me roar” energy and inspired the sawblade motif.
Photo by Daniel Fox, Lumina Studio
October was Breast Cancer Awareness Month. It took me until November to share this with you. Anyway, awareness needs to be every month of the year. Please don’t wait until next October to focus on your breast health.
Turns out the beautiful, nurturing breast that is an important theme in my work has become symbolic of me since I was diagnosed with DCIS breast cancer last spring. The good news is I’m doing great and cancer-free!
I made a promise to my mother, a breast cancer survivor twice over, to get regular mammograms. Because of that promise, my cancer was discovered at stage 0. Luckily it was a noninvasive type with no genetic cause and I came through relatively unscathed.
The surgery left only a nearly invisible crescent scar on the areola and slight depression as a reminder. Radiation therapy is becoming a memory, although I understand it may cause changes over time. I still haven’t decided about taking the hormone blocker. But all in all, I’m mending and looking beyond the event that I’ve anticipated since my late teens.
Some aspects of the journey were quite fascinating, some were scary, some were dreary and there were so many procedures and appointments. Every day I’d think of my mother and those who face a much, much rougher terrain than I. I’m both saddened by that and grateful. It’s ok to feel what I feel, but taking measure of myself in respect to others helped me get a grip and feel an immense gratitude mixed in with my shifting emotions.
One of my first reactions was “so this is the year.” I’ve anticipating cancer since my mother discovered a lump in her breast when I was 18. She lived decades after that but cancer dogged her. She fought through that first one, then the second and another cancer, and eventually, when my kids were small, her weakened heart gave up.
She faced her cancers with courage and found plenty to enjoy in life. Her spirit was strong and present for us. Sometimes I saw her resentment and sadness, too, which was hard to witness. Now I have a greater understanding and empathy for her ups and downs. I felt love and grief, compassion and anger about her cancers, all of which helped me know my own cancer wasn’t all about me.
My dad retired at 80 (!) to be at home with her. Close companions throughout their marriage, they enjoyed visiting and hosting family, and grew amazing roses that drew them out for a stroll each day to admire them while resting on strategically placed benches. They lived a good life together. In the last years, each morning Mom would find recipes in magazines or her cookbook collection. Dad shopped and cooked with her coaching. It was hard for her not to own her kitchen, she admitted to me, but it gave my dad purpose and prepared him. Cooking and perfecting recipes was one way he cared for family and friends after her death.
I’m grateful she had time with all of her grandchildren. Mine, the youngest, even if they don’t remember her, at least grew up hearing how they charmed her and gave her joy. A memory that often comes to me was a summer day when my mom was resting on the sofa. I asked if the children were too noisy. As tired as she was, she replied that she loved hearing them play and that they brought life into the house. She was delighted watching them create chaos and discovering little toys left by her side as she napped.
Shortly before she died, she encouraged me about my parenting and said my children would grow up to be fine adults. She was absolutely right! Through thick and thin, that talk and her parenting of me guided me through my years of child-rearing. Now, my promise to her to get regular mammograms has guided me to have a greater chance for a longer life and be present for my adult children.
Since my mother’s cancers, there have been amazing advances in cancer diagnosis, tools and treatments. How fortunate I am, and I hope you will be, too.
Perhaps sharing this personal story encourages you to make a promise to someone you love to be screened as your doctor recommends and to take action if you notice something suspicious. It’s scary to be diagnosed with cancer, but you can do this!
Thank you for the expertise and care provided by the marvelous breast cancer teams at
Seattle Cancer Care Alliance and University of Washington Medical Center.
I’m grateful to my family and my friends for their love and support.
We go on together with our departed loved ones always alive in our minds and hearts.