When I was 6 years old my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. She underwent all the typical treatments, including a double mastectomy. Sadly, when I was 8 years old, the cancer had returned and metastasized. I remember being told that she had six months to live.

Well, mom my never defined her life by what the doctors said would happen... My mom was a strong woman. I remember her losing her hair through Chemo. I remember her telling me about a treatment she had to have, where they would insert a LONG needle through her back, into her lung to drain fluid. I remember her running to the bathroom to throw up and then returning to cook dinner like nothing happened. I remember her having migraine headaches to severe that my dad would take her to the ER about once a week. I remember being terrified that I was not going to have a mom. I remember kids making jokes to me that my mom wore a wig. I remember my mom pretending she was not sick so we would not be affected. I also remember my mom choosing to LIVE, no matter what the doctors kept saying.

12 years later, when I was 22, I had my first daughter Katie. My mom was still here to be her grandma! My mom adored Katie. I worked from her house on the computer doing transcription, so they spent 8-10 hrs everyday together. Being sick (which meant very tired) my mom loved to read stories to Katie. She would often read the book and then site and sketch out a coloring page for her.

Unfortunately, my mother did not like having her picture taken. She often said that we should remember her for who she was on the inside and not for the sick body that housed her.

On December 10, 2007 I went into labor with my son Sam. I called my mom to bring Katie over so we could go to the hospital. My mom told me that she was not feeling well, but bring Katie anyway. I did not think much of it.

The next day, my mom came to the hospital to see my new baby. She walked into my room and said, "You need to call you dad and tell him I'm checking into the hospital. I waited, because I knew they would not let me see the baby once I did."

Hmm. Well, my mom had been sick most my life, so I didn't think too much into it. Although it was very strange she wanted me to call my dad.

After I was released, I went to see my mom. The diagnosis? She had walked into the hospital with a platelet count of 2. In simple terms, my mom was bleeding to death internally. The cancer had spread to her bone marrow and she was not longer making blood. They had her alive through transfusions of blood and platelets.

She told us that she would go through treatment again, but she did feel that this was her time to go. On January 10, 2008 my mom passed away. We all got to say goodbye...

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