And I guess now that I’ve emerged, too—through the stages of self-centered pre-teen and self-interested college applicant to become the young woman I am today. Another day, Another waist of my time. My mom was able to stand by me—with the strength she used to combat those cancer cells—to guide me through my own fight. In 2005, Mom's Cancer won the comic industry's Eisner Award for Best Digital Comic, a new category that year. But for my mom and me, it was a new beginning. Mom's Cancer is the true tale of my mother's battle with metastatic lung cancer. It wasn’t until I was completing my college applications that I realized what little effect my mom’s stint with cancer had on me. Whether we are dealing with epic obstacles like breast cancer and addiction or smaller disasters like lost credit cards and expensive gym memberships, we face it now together. My Cancer Story: My Mom's Cancer Helped Me Battle My Own Disease Today was a perfect day. And I am ready to write my “cancer story.” Not one full of strife or drama, blame or vanity—the types of accounts that would have come if I had tried to write this at an earlier time in my life. They preferred that we decorate mannequin heads and parade our brother through the house wearing a woman's wig. Life continued as normal, both times, in the Campisano household. In the end, they both looked fabulous, worthy of being put on display. That means her body feels sick. There wasn’t a specific medicine or treatment that would halt my addiction or stop it completely. My mom was left to be the “woman of the house” at the age of 11 and cooked and cleaned for her older brother and father who worked hard to support his family after enduring such an enormous loss. The weather was ideal, but there was more to the day than light breezes, minimal humidity (the perfect hair day), and limited cloud coverage. But we figured they deserved a chance. My mom was diagnosed as stage 4 metastatic brain cancer.Doctors told that her survival days are less than a month. She didn't really like any of them, but I loved them all. Everything was always normal. And, not only has she battled her own disease, but she has walked with me, hand-in-hand, in my own struggle with addiction. I learned to appreciate how great my life was because my parents let me live a wonderful one, not because some destructive little cells made me realize how bad things could be. First Signs of Trouble: Angles, Floaters and Flashes . Katie Campisano graduated from the honors program from Quinnipiac University cum laude with degrees in public relations/psychology. But we both knew that I was continuing to use drugs and alcohol to destroy my own body—something so precious that should be treasured. And if I had learned all these things through a traumatic experience with cancer, I could write a damned good application essay about it. God has been tugging on heart to film this video for awhile now. They didn’t feel like we should have to worry about our mom not being around in a year or think about the crazy chemicals being pumped into her body. Or maybe the idea of not having one of my loved ones around would help me treasure all the time I have with them. Throughout my struggle with addiction, though, we were able to finally look at her struggle with breast cancer—two diseases, different in definition, similar in emotional turmoil. Today, when the freight train in my head rolls through, my first impulse is to call her. They were new members of our family, and we were skeptical at first. If you have a story that you’d like to tell, please do email stories@childrenwithcancer.org.uk We praise God for healing her and for all He taught our family during that time. The weather was ideal, but there was more to the day than light breezes, minimal humidity (the perfect hair day), and limited cloud coverage. They say there’s a special bond between single mothers and their children. sad stories filtered by tag cancer. I was a junior in college when my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. Even so, she always wore something when she went out. I was very focused on me. With cases of ocular melanoma popping up in the news this year — including 50 people in North Carolina and Alabama — it felt like it was time to help my mom share her story. She didn’t look like a woman suffering from anything. The first time it truly hit me that my mother had cancer was during her first visit to the oncologist. Mum was diagnosed with breast cancer in October 2014. But I think this is what my parents wanted. Other times I’ve wonder if my lack of concern during this struggle was my fault. No chronically absent parents. On Monday, January 6th Mommy is going to the hospital. She chose to maintain a sense of understanding and patience with me. We participated in the neighborhood carpools after daily lacrosse practices, we went to SAT tutoring once a week our junior years of high school (sucked, by the way). I would spend the day at school, then come home to find my mom on the couch—“resting,” as she called it. A civil rights lawyer, blogger, and mother to two young children, Beth was diagnosed with breast cancer at age 37 in 2014. She had taken on cancer and emerged no worse for the wear, only wiser. When I took piano lessons, she did, too — and showed me up. There have been plenty of times in the last few months that she’s been in the kitchen doing bills and me on the couch watching Food Network, or she on the deck reading a magazine and me laying out in the sun. With all her extra time at home, my mom started her own business. She had just … It didn't bother me that mom was going to the hospital—as long as there was someone around to drive me to my friend's house. Whenever I would hear her complain about wearing a hat, I would snatch it off her head and put it on mine, observing myself in the mirror: “I don’t see why you don’t like them, they’re so cute!”. My mom read relevant literature, she opened up to me about her own fight with cancer, and she continues to attend Al-Anon meetings (AA-esque meetings for loved ones of those struggling with addiction). My little sister was the dancer and teacher-in-the-making. Our communication ceased, honesty disappeared, trust evaporated. It was almost like they were hiding it from me, like they didn’t think I could handle the difficulties they were facing. She went through surgery (x2), chemotherapy (x2), radiation (x2—she has the tattoos to prove it; and uses them as a reason to hate mine) and, eventually, had a double mastectomy and reconstructive surgery. But during this struggle was my own world the athlete and somewhat of a wild child was 12 and... 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