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Heroism takes many forms. Some people idolize celebrities, or characters in novels, or animals who rescue individuals in crisis. Most point to public servants like firefighters and police officers, or members of the military.
My hero is my mother.
On July 1st, 2016, my mother told me the devastating news: she had been diagnosed with Stage Two breast cancer. It was the latest in a series of setbacks my family has endured over the last seven years. As a family, we always strive to see the best in our situation, but there comes a point when one must reach out for help. I think we've reached that point.
I suppose our hardship really began back in 2009, at the hight of the dot-com bust, when my dad was laid off from his job as a computer technician. He'd been working at Intel for 24 years when he was laid off, so he was confident he'd be able to get another job, but within a couple years, health issues had made that impossible. He was diagnosed with high blood pressure, severe acid reflux, and diabetes. The diabetes has been the hardest to control, and in 2011, diabetic retinopathy robbed my dad of his eyesight. He tries to stay very positive about it now, but I know that the reality is that it's very disheartening for him, being unable to work to support our family, losing his ability to drive, or to even walk down the street unassisted.
That same year, my mom's dad, my Grandpa Dean, became very ill. He moved in with our family so that he and my dad could keep each other company. I've always been very close to my Grandpa, and I remember it being one of the happiest times of my life. But on the night of January 3, 2011, the unthinkable happened. I had just left for school when my Grandpa collapsed in my dad's arms. My mom rushed downstairs and administered CPR, but his heart had already given up. I remember walking into the emergency room after school, and despite my own heartbreak at losing my Grandpa, the most prominent thought in my mind was for my mother: "That's her Daddy." They had always been so close, and he'd died in her arms. I think that thought hurt most of all.
To top it off, despite several attempts, my dad's request to receive disability funding was rejected several times, and after four years of desperately trying everything, we eventually lost our house. We stayed with family for the next few years, working slowly to get back on our feet. My brother Kevin and I both took breaks from school to work and save and help our family.
Through all our hardship, my mother has been the bedrock of our family, the main breadwinner for a family of six, which as anybody in Silicon Valley knows, is no small feat. With positivity and sheer determination, she banded us together, and for the last couple years, things seemed to be looking up. Daddy's disability request finally got approved, Kevin got married to his lovely wife Cristel, and with the additional income from both Kevin and myself, we were able to afford a little more space and comfort for our family. It all seemed to be going great, and with hard work and determination, our family was slowly but surely working down our debt.
Everything changed when on father's day last year, mom discovered a hard lump in her left breast. She was devastated to find out on July 1st, that the biopsy on the lump confirmed her worst fears: she had breast cancer. And this is where my mom's strength really shows through. After her diagnosis, instead of giving up altogether, she stood strong. She didn't lose faith. She talked to her doctor about her options, and afterward, she knew that she didn't want to undergo the suffering that comes with chemotherapy and radiation. She didn't want to suffer from weakness and a suppressed immune system, unable to work for fear of putting herself at greater risk of infection.
Instead, she put in hours and hours of research and eventually decided on homeopathic treatment. My mother went full-throttle, completely revamping her diet and taking supplements to help herself build her immune system so her body could be at its strongest. The change was drastic. She lost a lot of weight, and honestly looked and felt the healthiest she's been in years. My mom takes her health very seriously, and so in addition to her diet change, she still went in to see her doctor once a month for an ultrasound to measure the tumor. I hated it, though, because every time she went in, the nurses in the office made sure she knew they didn't support her decision. One doctor even told her she would die without chemo and radiation treatments. I'm sure she meant well, but really it just made my mom incredibly uncomfortable and disheartened, and she would come back from these visits distraught and afraid.
Within five months, though, my mom was certain that the homeopathic treatments were working and she'd made the right choice. However, despite the fact that she could feel the lump shrinking, it still weighed heavily on her mind. After all, it is hard to remain positive about fighting breast cancer if one can always feel it there. It's a terrifying prospect, and after much soul searching, my mother decided to proceed with a lumpectomy in November. After surgery, though, the lab results showed that though the doctors had removed the tumor and two lymph nodes, there were still trace amounts of cancer cells.
My mom is truly a force of nature. Despite this setback, she rallied again, did more research, and decided to pursue alternative treatment from Sunridge Medical Center in Scottsdale, Arizona. They offer homeopathy and autohemotherapy treatment, a naturopathic cancer treatment used in Europe and India for over 60 years.
For the past three months now, my mom has made several trips to Arizona, each time taking along a family member for support. To minimize her time off from work, she'll leave on a Thursday and fly back on a Saturday or Sunday, receiving three or four treatments while she is there. I myself went with her at the end of March, and I was so impressed with the treatment she received during our visit. The doctors and nurses and assistants there truly care about each and every one of their patients, and they are more than happy to provide any information and answer any number of questions about the treatments she receives. I especially appreciated that they recognized my mom on sight, knew her name, and my name, and even stories and details my mom had shared with them on previous visits.
This is where things start getting challenging, though. Each treatment session at Sunridge costs roughly $1500, or about $4500-$6000 per trip. Most patients with my mom's condition receive approximately 40 treatments, and since natural, non-chemo forms of cancer treatment are not covered by insurance, my parents have had to pay for everything out-of-pocket. So far, my mom has completed 14 rounds of treatment, adding up to roughly $21,000 so far. Add onto this the cost of travel, time off from work, and other expenses... Needless to say, expenses add up very quickly.
The emotional and financial burden of cancer is challenging, to say the least. Those that know my mom know that she only ever asks for emotional support. She would never ask for donations or hand-outs, so my family and I are reaching out on her behalf. My mother is truly my hero, and I would do absolutely anything for her. On behalf of my mother, my family, and myself, thank you for taking the time to read our story. I hope that you will consider a donation toward her ongoing medical treatments, and if not, please consider sharing the link to our fundraiser or leaving my mom a nice note, because emotional support is always greatly appreciated.
Much love, Megan Brittani Nacionales.
My hero is my mother.
On July 1st, 2016, my mother told me the devastating news: she had been diagnosed with Stage Two breast cancer. It was the latest in a series of setbacks my family has endured over the last seven years. As a family, we always strive to see the best in our situation, but there comes a point when one must reach out for help. I think we've reached that point.
I suppose our hardship really began back in 2009, at the hight of the dot-com bust, when my dad was laid off from his job as a computer technician. He'd been working at Intel for 24 years when he was laid off, so he was confident he'd be able to get another job, but within a couple years, health issues had made that impossible. He was diagnosed with high blood pressure, severe acid reflux, and diabetes. The diabetes has been the hardest to control, and in 2011, diabetic retinopathy robbed my dad of his eyesight. He tries to stay very positive about it now, but I know that the reality is that it's very disheartening for him, being unable to work to support our family, losing his ability to drive, or to even walk down the street unassisted.
That same year, my mom's dad, my Grandpa Dean, became very ill. He moved in with our family so that he and my dad could keep each other company. I've always been very close to my Grandpa, and I remember it being one of the happiest times of my life. But on the night of January 3, 2011, the unthinkable happened. I had just left for school when my Grandpa collapsed in my dad's arms. My mom rushed downstairs and administered CPR, but his heart had already given up. I remember walking into the emergency room after school, and despite my own heartbreak at losing my Grandpa, the most prominent thought in my mind was for my mother: "That's her Daddy." They had always been so close, and he'd died in her arms. I think that thought hurt most of all.
To top it off, despite several attempts, my dad's request to receive disability funding was rejected several times, and after four years of desperately trying everything, we eventually lost our house. We stayed with family for the next few years, working slowly to get back on our feet. My brother Kevin and I both took breaks from school to work and save and help our family.
Through all our hardship, my mother has been the bedrock of our family, the main breadwinner for a family of six, which as anybody in Silicon Valley knows, is no small feat. With positivity and sheer determination, she banded us together, and for the last couple years, things seemed to be looking up. Daddy's disability request finally got approved, Kevin got married to his lovely wife Cristel, and with the additional income from both Kevin and myself, we were able to afford a little more space and comfort for our family. It all seemed to be going great, and with hard work and determination, our family was slowly but surely working down our debt.
Everything changed when on father's day last year, mom discovered a hard lump in her left breast. She was devastated to find out on July 1st, that the biopsy on the lump confirmed her worst fears: she had breast cancer. And this is where my mom's strength really shows through. After her diagnosis, instead of giving up altogether, she stood strong. She didn't lose faith. She talked to her doctor about her options, and afterward, she knew that she didn't want to undergo the suffering that comes with chemotherapy and radiation. She didn't want to suffer from weakness and a suppressed immune system, unable to work for fear of putting herself at greater risk of infection.
Instead, she put in hours and hours of research and eventually decided on homeopathic treatment. My mother went full-throttle, completely revamping her diet and taking supplements to help herself build her immune system so her body could be at its strongest. The change was drastic. She lost a lot of weight, and honestly looked and felt the healthiest she's been in years. My mom takes her health very seriously, and so in addition to her diet change, she still went in to see her doctor once a month for an ultrasound to measure the tumor. I hated it, though, because every time she went in, the nurses in the office made sure she knew they didn't support her decision. One doctor even told her she would die without chemo and radiation treatments. I'm sure she meant well, but really it just made my mom incredibly uncomfortable and disheartened, and she would come back from these visits distraught and afraid.
Within five months, though, my mom was certain that the homeopathic treatments were working and she'd made the right choice. However, despite the fact that she could feel the lump shrinking, it still weighed heavily on her mind. After all, it is hard to remain positive about fighting breast cancer if one can always feel it there. It's a terrifying prospect, and after much soul searching, my mother decided to proceed with a lumpectomy in November. After surgery, though, the lab results showed that though the doctors had removed the tumor and two lymph nodes, there were still trace amounts of cancer cells.
My mom is truly a force of nature. Despite this setback, she rallied again, did more research, and decided to pursue alternative treatment from Sunridge Medical Center in Scottsdale, Arizona. They offer homeopathy and autohemotherapy treatment, a naturopathic cancer treatment used in Europe and India for over 60 years.
For the past three months now, my mom has made several trips to Arizona, each time taking along a family member for support. To minimize her time off from work, she'll leave on a Thursday and fly back on a Saturday or Sunday, receiving three or four treatments while she is there. I myself went with her at the end of March, and I was so impressed with the treatment she received during our visit. The doctors and nurses and assistants there truly care about each and every one of their patients, and they are more than happy to provide any information and answer any number of questions about the treatments she receives. I especially appreciated that they recognized my mom on sight, knew her name, and my name, and even stories and details my mom had shared with them on previous visits.
This is where things start getting challenging, though. Each treatment session at Sunridge costs roughly $1500, or about $4500-$6000 per trip. Most patients with my mom's condition receive approximately 40 treatments, and since natural, non-chemo forms of cancer treatment are not covered by insurance, my parents have had to pay for everything out-of-pocket. So far, my mom has completed 14 rounds of treatment, adding up to roughly $21,000 so far. Add onto this the cost of travel, time off from work, and other expenses... Needless to say, expenses add up very quickly.
The emotional and financial burden of cancer is challenging, to say the least. Those that know my mom know that she only ever asks for emotional support. She would never ask for donations or hand-outs, so my family and I are reaching out on her behalf. My mother is truly my hero, and I would do absolutely anything for her. On behalf of my mother, my family, and myself, thank you for taking the time to read our story. I hope that you will consider a donation toward her ongoing medical treatments, and if not, please consider sharing the link to our fundraiser or leaving my mom a nice note, because emotional support is always greatly appreciated.
Much love, Megan Brittani Nacionales.
Organizer and beneficiary
Nancy Nacionales
Beneficiary