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There is no good time to find out your mother has breast cancer.
Turns out, I received the information at a most unusual time, as well.
It was early February 2003. I was in Florida covering the Columbia Space Shuttle disaster for CNN at Kennedy Space Center.
My mother, Phyllis, called between live shots.
"The biopsy test came back," she said. "I have breast cancer."
The information seemed so unreal. I can probably count on one hand the number of days I remember my mother being sick in my entire life. Mom didn't get sick. And she certainly didn't get things like cancer!
Our journey started that moment. I had to hang up too quickly as another one of endless live shots was coming up.
I did the live shot reporting on fallen astronauts and grieving families. Called Mom back in Los Angeles. She wanted help thinking of questions she would ask the surgeon and oncologist when she met with them. That was a meeting she was going to by herself. I was stuck on breaking news in Florida, my sister was in New York City, my brother and sister-in-law were in San Diego, my dad was in the hospital with health issues of his own. And Mom is not the kind to ask a girlfriend to go with her.
So, she and I brainstormed over the phone. Live shot/astronauts/grief/call Mom/breast cancer questions/Live shot/astronauts/grief/call Mom/breast cancer questions/Live shot/astronauts/grief/call Mom/breast cancer questions. That's how that surreal day went.
As soon as I could, I did get out to LA. As I mentioned, my father, Stuart was in the hospital, so I wanted to see him and be there for my mother's surgery.
The other interesting twist to all this is that I was on call to go to war. Literally, go to war. Think about the date. February 2003. President Bush had decided the United States would invade Iraq to overthrow Saddam Hussein, but the exact date had not been set.
I knew my CNN assignment would be to report from Kuwait. I was waiting for the greenlight to be told to go. My brother and sister knew about it. Together we decided, "Why tell Mom and Dad?" Don't get me wrong. I knew they would eventually have to know, since I would pop up on television live from Kuwait City. But why tell them during the weeks I was on standby? They would only worry.
I will never forget the night before my mother's breast cancer surgery. We were in the cafeteria of the UCLA Medical Center. My dad was upstairs in a hospital bed. Her operation was scheduled for first thing the next morning at a different facility.
We were sitting there poking at the mediocre hospital food making some kind of small talk when Mom looked at me with that "Mother Knowing Look."
"You're going," she said.
"What do you mean, 'I'm going?'" I asked trying to avoid the obvious fact that I had been busted.
"You're going into a war zone when this whole thing begins."
"Well, yeah," I confessed. "I'm on standby to go to Kuwait. But I won't go if you don't want me to. If you think it's more important for me to stay here for you and Dad, I will tell CNN I can't go."
She looked at me. I looked at her. I expected a lot of things to come out of her mother, but not what ultimately did.
"What are you going to wear?" She asked.
"What?" I said.
"What are you going to wear? What do war correspondents wear on the air? Khakis? A leather jacket? Long sleeves? Short sleeves? You certainly won't be wearing a blazer or sweater set. I know, let's go shopping!" she demanded.
"Shopping?" I asked incredulously. "You've got to be kidding. Dad's upstairs in a hospital bed. You have breast cancer surgery tomorrow morning, and you want to go shopping?!"
"Look," she explained, "I can't control what happens with your father upstairs. I can't control what the surgeons will find when they operate on me tomorrow, but I can control what my kid looks like when she pops up on international television! If you really want to help me, you'll let us go shopping. We'll call this your 'war-drobe.'"
So, that's what we did. Mom and I went shopping. Put together my "war-drobe." As usual, her discerning eye found me some great pieces that set me up well for when I eventually did ship out to Kuwait.
More importantly, I'm happy to report that Mom's surgery went very well the next morning. Doctors performed a lumpectomy. There was no lymph node involvement. She followed the surgery with radiation, but no chemo. And next February we are set to celebrate her 5-year survivor anniversary. She truly is an early detection success story.
That's my story how I became a member of the breast cancer family. And why I'm honored to celebrate the incredible women you'll meet this week here at DarynKagan.com. They've done such inspiring things with their journeys.
I encourage you to check out the new "Shop Daryn" page. It just opened. Pick up a DarynKagan.com t shirt or mug. Help spread the word about inspirational news and know that a portion of the proceeds this week will go to organizations that support breast health and awareness.
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