In November, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer for the second time in her life. Her first diagnosis came in 1998 when she was just 38 years old. I was one year old and my sister was 2.
I have no memories of her going through treatments, but Cancer was there throughout my childhood long after it left her body. As a kid, I knew cancer as something to be proud of, it was something to celebrate. I didn’t know it as something scary, something that carried grief and pain with it, something that left deep physical and emotional scars wherever it went.
Starting in 1999, every Mother’s Day, friends and family from all up and down the east coast would come to Philly and join us for the Race for the Cure. We made shirts each year for Team Kate and walked under a banner with signatures collected from hundreds of friends and family members over the years. As a kid, I lumped it in with Christmas and Easter and thought of Mother’s Day as a family reunion. The celebration of my mom’s survival was often overlooked by my kid brain by the excitement of the day. It meant I got to eat Wawa soft pretzels and Rita’s water ice from the finish line tent and a grilled cheese from the Reading Terminal Diner. It meant running up and down the Art Museum steps with my cousins and falling asleep by 4pm on the car ride back home. Growing up, Mother’s Day was one of my favorite days of the year.
The meaning of the day changed as I aged and came to understand that not everyone walking was celebrating survival, many were walking in remembrance. Over the years, cancer itself became something scary, something that took aunts, uncles, and grandparents. But it was still hard to wrap my head around the fact that that Something Scary that I saw family members go through, that I saw on tv and in movies as this horrible thing that eats away at you, was something that my mother physically went through at such a young age and with such young children. Even now, that period of my mother’s life and those that were there to support her is one I will never fully understand.
Now 25 years later, the cancer is different, the treatment is different, and her support system has only grown. The Race no longer takes place in Philly, but seeing as this is the first Mother’s Day since cancer has returned, it feels very fitting to bring back Team Kate to celebrate the woman that is my mother, Kathleen Connors. I am so proud have this girlie as my mom. The lightness and gratitude with which she walks through life, despite the heaviness that life has tried to place on her, is truly so beautiful. She’s taught me everything I know and I love her so dearly.
So, today, my sister and I are raising money for a Philadelphia based organization that is very near and dear to our hearts called Living Beyond Breast Cancer. My mom worked closely with the organization for years after she beat cancer the first time. They have been an incredible support system for her these past few months and we would appreciate any and all contributions to their cause.
Want to join me in making a difference? I'm raising money to benefit Living Beyond Breast Cancer, and any donation will help make an impact. Thanks in advance for your contribution to this cause that means so much to me.
More information about Living Beyond Breast Cancer: Living Beyond Breast Cancer addresses the current needs of people affected by breast cancer, whether newly diagnosed, in treatment, recovery or living with a history of or managing a metastatic form of the disease. Resources are developed in collaboration with the nation's leading oncologists, health professionals and ally organizations and are delivered by people who understand the physical and emotional complexities of breast cancer.
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