By Gabriella Phifer

My sisters didn’t quite understand, which is how I reacted when I was told for the first time. This time would be different. I know what’s going on now. A beast I once thought curable had taken everything from my mom, and 12 years later it’s back with an insatiable hunger. This time I learned from my mom’s courage and perseverance.

When you’re 5 years-old you don’t quite understand the world around you. For example, we suddenly had a babysitter even when mom was home. Ethel, my mom’s best friend, was nice and all, but I wanted to play with my mom. I loved braiding my mom’s hair, but couldn’t even do that anymore. I missed playing with her hair. Later, I learned that Ethel wasn’t just taking care of us, but was also taking care of my mom.

A few years later when my mom was feeling better, I understood more about what happened. My mom started going to high schools and telling young women her story, “At the age of 28, I was diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer…” I watched the young girls listen to her, captivated and engaged. I began to realize the story she was always telling wasn’t just a story. I learned that my mom’s actions, which didn’t make sense at the time, had a deeper meaning. She was fighting. I also learned that she had won. As I watched, I felt proud of her, and inspired, just like the other girls in the class. I wanted to be just like her.

Last October, my mom was diagnosed with stage 4 metastatic breast cancer. The beast had returned to invade her breast, lungs, liver, and bone. I recalled the years prior during her last battle with the beast — her stories, her black palms from chemotherapy, and how every part of her skin hurt. I dreaded watching that happen, and missed my childhood innocence. For a moment I forgot about everything that followed, and the bravery that inspired me to be who I am today. Then I realized that my 9-year-old sisters will go through the same thing I did. At that moment I knew what my family needed. My mom needed a daughter who understood, and my sisters needed someone they could depend on. I wanted to show my mom the things she had shown me.

As mom’s doctors learned more, we learned that that the type of cancer she has will require that she live with it for the rest of her life. There is no possibility for this particular beast to be killed. That news may sound devastating, but what my family heard is that she will live. The beast cannot be killed but can be tamed. Throughout my life, I choose to recall her story and use it as motivation. Life comes with adversity. You can choose to wallow in it or grow from it. My mom chose to grow, and so will I.

Gabriella Phifer is 19 years old and majoring in Psycholgy at SUNY Buffalo.