Bringing Up Bri
Donation protected
I was diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer in April of 2013, just weeks before my daughter’s second birthday. The only way to describe that news was that it was like a bomb went off. Hearing the words, “I’m sorry, it’s breast cancer” I crumpled to the ground and kept thinking that I can’t be sick, I’m only 33 and my daughter needs me. From that moment, I was determined to keep Bri’s life as normal as possible and do everything I could to be here for my family. After working full-time through major surgeries and months of chemo, I was approaching the end of treatment and ready to put cancer behind me. I knew the reality was that my cancer could return, but made the decision to live in the moment and soak in every beautiful day with Jeff and Brianna.
And then, the bomb was dropped on me again. This time, it was the stage four bomb. On August 21, 2014, I received the news that my cancer had metastasized extensively to my liver and bones. There is no cure. Median survival is 18-24 months. Being alive to see Brianna start kindergarten was a “pretty realistic” goal. The lifetime of memories I had hoped for with my family was gone. I will not be able to watch Brianna grow up. No mother should ever have to endure the pain of knowing that one day soon, she will have to say goodbye to her family.
There is no way to predict exactly how much time I will have. A limited number of treatments do exist for my pathology, but the process is all trial and error. There is no way to know what will work or for how long. Everything will stop working at some point and once it does, it is off the table forever. Unfortunately, my cancer has proven itself to be smart and I am already on my fifth chemo in less than a year. Treatment options are dwindling.
I never intended on having to retire at the age of 34. It was incredibly difficult for me to accept that I was too beaten down by chemo side effects to continue working. Simply not dying had become a full-time job with countless doctor appointments, scans, tests and treatments. Being unable to help Jeff provide for Brianna was particularly difficult, but our family was in agreement that I needed all of my energy to continue making memories with Bri and ensuring her life went on as normal. Knowing that one day soon, Jeff will be a single father, I often worry that money will be tight. All we want is for Brianna to continue to do the things she loves: swim classes, ballet, trips to the Dells, money for college, and just a safety net to provide for her basic needs. We simply want to keep life as full as possible for Brianna on a single-parent income. And while I am still here, we try to cram as many memories into each day as possible. When I pass, special Brianna-Daddy memories will also be incredibly important.
The most painful part of my diagnosis is knowing that Jeff and Bri will be sad when I die and I won’t be there to comfort them. So, I started doing everything in my power to provide them comfort after my death. This includes trying to ensure that Bri will always know my unconditional love and support is with her: http://www.cnn.com/2015/07/23/living/dying-mom-greeting-cards-feat-irpt-feat/index.html?sr=fb072315terminallyillmom8pStoryGallLink
http://abcnews.go.com/Lifestyle/wisconsin-mom-dying-cancer-writes-greeting-cards-toddlers/story?id=32590573
http://www.buzzfeed.com/stephaniemcneal/a-mom-who-is-dying-of-cancer-has-written-her-daughter-a-lett?bffb&utm_term=4ldqpgp#.myBxRQn3Da
However, the realities of the world are that financial demands will always be there. Despite cancer, the world keeps turning. Jeff has been not only caring for me, but going above and beyond to ensure Bri isn’t missing out on anything. Working full-time and carrying on life as “normal” during a very not normal time is exhausting, but he keeps powering through for our family.
Recently, my situation has taken a scary turn. Treatments simply weren’t getting a handle on the cancer and my liver was failing. I was told I probably only have 30-40% of my liver functioning. After a particularly terrifying weekend in the hospital, knowing that treatment options are running out, my friend Sarah Moore realized she wanted to help. Holding my hand, she asked if she could dedicate her Ironman race to me. I was honored beyond words. Sarah told me that she had signed up to do Ironman Wisconsin one year ago but at the time really couldn’t say why … she just felt a strong intuition that she needed to do it this year. In that moment in the hospital, it became clear to her why it had to happen this year.
So she continues to train for the 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride and 26.2 mile marathon. A goal few even have the guts to attempt. While on long, physically grueling bike rides, Sarah often found herself thinking of my situation, which is mentally and physically an Ironman battle in itself. And unlike Sarah, I don’t have the option to quit! Sarah would be on the road, struggling to put one foot in front of the other and think to herself, "If Heather can do this, I can do this. I need to live big and I need to live now as Heather has shown me". Over the past year, the two friends have found inspiration and strength in one another that is hard to capture in words.
While sitting in the hospital with me, listening to my fears about how my passing will affect Jeff and Brianna, Sarah was inspired to help me, explaining how I had motivated and inspired her in all areas of her life. She asked if she could help raise money for a fund for Brianna, knowing that Brianna and Jeff’s welfare after I’m gone is my top priority. We are hoping that Sarah’s Ironman adventure (and everyone’s generosity even after Ironman) can help ease the financial burden for Jeff and allow him to focus on Brianna and keeping her life as full and happy as possible.
Please help support Heather and Sarah, who are both putting one foot in front of the other, in honor of Brianna. Because this is all about an amazing, sweet little girl who is loved beyond words. Cancer has ripped countless things away from the McManamys, but it can never take away the love and laughter they share on a daily basis.
And then, the bomb was dropped on me again. This time, it was the stage four bomb. On August 21, 2014, I received the news that my cancer had metastasized extensively to my liver and bones. There is no cure. Median survival is 18-24 months. Being alive to see Brianna start kindergarten was a “pretty realistic” goal. The lifetime of memories I had hoped for with my family was gone. I will not be able to watch Brianna grow up. No mother should ever have to endure the pain of knowing that one day soon, she will have to say goodbye to her family.
There is no way to predict exactly how much time I will have. A limited number of treatments do exist for my pathology, but the process is all trial and error. There is no way to know what will work or for how long. Everything will stop working at some point and once it does, it is off the table forever. Unfortunately, my cancer has proven itself to be smart and I am already on my fifth chemo in less than a year. Treatment options are dwindling.
I never intended on having to retire at the age of 34. It was incredibly difficult for me to accept that I was too beaten down by chemo side effects to continue working. Simply not dying had become a full-time job with countless doctor appointments, scans, tests and treatments. Being unable to help Jeff provide for Brianna was particularly difficult, but our family was in agreement that I needed all of my energy to continue making memories with Bri and ensuring her life went on as normal. Knowing that one day soon, Jeff will be a single father, I often worry that money will be tight. All we want is for Brianna to continue to do the things she loves: swim classes, ballet, trips to the Dells, money for college, and just a safety net to provide for her basic needs. We simply want to keep life as full as possible for Brianna on a single-parent income. And while I am still here, we try to cram as many memories into each day as possible. When I pass, special Brianna-Daddy memories will also be incredibly important.
The most painful part of my diagnosis is knowing that Jeff and Bri will be sad when I die and I won’t be there to comfort them. So, I started doing everything in my power to provide them comfort after my death. This includes trying to ensure that Bri will always know my unconditional love and support is with her: http://www.cnn.com/2015/07/23/living/dying-mom-greeting-cards-feat-irpt-feat/index.html?sr=fb072315terminallyillmom8pStoryGallLink
http://abcnews.go.com/Lifestyle/wisconsin-mom-dying-cancer-writes-greeting-cards-toddlers/story?id=32590573
http://www.buzzfeed.com/stephaniemcneal/a-mom-who-is-dying-of-cancer-has-written-her-daughter-a-lett?bffb&utm_term=4ldqpgp#.myBxRQn3Da
However, the realities of the world are that financial demands will always be there. Despite cancer, the world keeps turning. Jeff has been not only caring for me, but going above and beyond to ensure Bri isn’t missing out on anything. Working full-time and carrying on life as “normal” during a very not normal time is exhausting, but he keeps powering through for our family.
Recently, my situation has taken a scary turn. Treatments simply weren’t getting a handle on the cancer and my liver was failing. I was told I probably only have 30-40% of my liver functioning. After a particularly terrifying weekend in the hospital, knowing that treatment options are running out, my friend Sarah Moore realized she wanted to help. Holding my hand, she asked if she could dedicate her Ironman race to me. I was honored beyond words. Sarah told me that she had signed up to do Ironman Wisconsin one year ago but at the time really couldn’t say why … she just felt a strong intuition that she needed to do it this year. In that moment in the hospital, it became clear to her why it had to happen this year.
So she continues to train for the 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride and 26.2 mile marathon. A goal few even have the guts to attempt. While on long, physically grueling bike rides, Sarah often found herself thinking of my situation, which is mentally and physically an Ironman battle in itself. And unlike Sarah, I don’t have the option to quit! Sarah would be on the road, struggling to put one foot in front of the other and think to herself, "If Heather can do this, I can do this. I need to live big and I need to live now as Heather has shown me". Over the past year, the two friends have found inspiration and strength in one another that is hard to capture in words.
While sitting in the hospital with me, listening to my fears about how my passing will affect Jeff and Brianna, Sarah was inspired to help me, explaining how I had motivated and inspired her in all areas of her life. She asked if she could help raise money for a fund for Brianna, knowing that Brianna and Jeff’s welfare after I’m gone is my top priority. We are hoping that Sarah’s Ironman adventure (and everyone’s generosity even after Ironman) can help ease the financial burden for Jeff and allow him to focus on Brianna and keeping her life as full and happy as possible.
Please help support Heather and Sarah, who are both putting one foot in front of the other, in honor of Brianna. Because this is all about an amazing, sweet little girl who is loved beyond words. Cancer has ripped countless things away from the McManamys, but it can never take away the love and laughter they share on a daily basis.
Organizer
Heather McManamy
Organizer
Madison, WI
