Debbie Legault is the mother of a young woman who was diagnosed with breast cancer at 27. Debbie chose to share the experience of being a full-time caregiver to her daughter during treatment in a blog called “Mom … It’s Cancer” and published the compilation of those thoughts in book format when active treatment was completed. Legault soon realized that the end of treatment was actually just another beginning and continues to write about the realities of survivorship both from her perspective as a caregiver and from her daughter’s point of view.

Debbie Legault

Debbie Legault is the mother of a young woman who was diagnosed with breast cancer at 27. Catch up on 

My daughter Adrienne first found the lump that turned out to be breast cancer three months earlier than when she went to see a doctor about it. She had been prompted by all the Breast Cancer Awareness month marketing to check her breasts and there it was. She checked it the next month, and the next, and three months later when she noticed how much it had grown it pushed her to make an appointment to get it looked at.

My child was very aware of breast cancer. She just didn’t believe it could happen to her at 27 years old. Even when the evidence was literally in her hands the denial of the possibility was so intense that she couldn’t acknowledge it. The denial was also there in all the medical professionals she dealt along the way because she was so young with no family history.

Denial is a very powerful thing. It can be a defense mechanism designed to help us cope with uncertainty and give us a hot minute to process something that we are struggling to face but it is one that can have serious negative consequences. I am not surprised, however, that my daughter wanted to pretend that the lump was just a lump.

When I asked her about the why, she sat for a minute and then said she just didn’t want to be that kind of sick. Like most people, she had experienced viruses and infections in her life but nothing as big as a cancer diagnosis. She didn’t know a lot, but she knew enough to know that the treatment was going to be grueling and that she might, at 27, lose her breast. She had seen the faces of cancer on the various cancer campaigns and she didn’t want to become one of them. And underlying all of that was the knowledge that cancer is an indiscriminate killer.

When she heard the words “It’s cancer” she didn’t jump into acceptance. On the contrary, her brain shut down and she walked around in a daze, going through the motions of life but not being present. We sat through the various appointments with ‘ologist after ‘ologist taking notes and preparing ourselves for what was to come. She walked into treatment room after treatment room to IV’s being hooked up and machines being aimed at her. But it wasn’t until over two years after diagnosis that she woke up into all the emotions that came with what she had experienced.

There is so much hope for patients these days, so many newer treatments that are especially effective if the cancer is caught early, but denial of both the patient and the medical professionals sometimes takes that option off the table and the initial diagnosis is metastatic breast cancer. There are many who think women like my daughter are “too young,” dismiss the lumps as part of a woman’s natural hormone cycle, or tag it as a clogged milk duct when women are breastfeeding even though many younger women are diagnosed post-partum. Sadly, ”It Cannot Be” on both sides of the equation is costing lives.

I would love to see a Breast Cancer Awareness campaign that featured stories of the potential negative outcome of denial, along the lines of programs like “Scared Straight.” I doubt there are many women who are not aware of breast cancer with the success the decades-old initiative has had in educating them, but if they don’t believe it can happen to them being aware is not going to help them survive. Being aware is not going to shift the thinking of physicians that lumps should be investigated regardless of what other factors may be at play.

We found out that unfortunately it can be and luckily denial didn’t take my girl from me. Let’s spread that word as far as we can so other mothers can be as lucky.

This piece reflects the author’s personal experience and perspective. For medical advice, please consult your health care provider.

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Denial can significantly impact early cancer detection and treatment, as illustrated by a young woman's delayed response to a breast cancer diagnosis. Despite awareness campaigns, both patients and medical professionals may dismiss symptoms due to age or lack of family history. This can lead to late-stage diagnoses, reducing treatment options. The narrative underscores the need for awareness campaigns to address denial and encourage proactive investigation of symptoms, regardless of age or perceived risk. Early detection remains crucial for effective treatment and improved outcomes.

Denial is a very powerful thing, but it is one that can have serious negative consequences.

Breast Cancer Awareness Versus ‘It Cannot Be’

It’s October, and social media sites are full of vendors selling merchandise featuring pink ribbons. Shoes, socks,t-shirts, flip flops - anything you can think of that manufacturing facilities can produce in pink is out there. By 8 am on Oct. 1 my daughter, who was diagnosed with breast cancer at 27, had four ads in her feed. But here’s the thing…

For the most part, the money you are spending, thinking it is going to support women with breast cancer, is more likely contributing to the bottom line of the company selling the product.

The success of Breast Cancer Awareness Month cannot be measured. Mammogramscreening ages are being moved downward so more young women can catch their breast cancer early enough for treatment to potentially be curative. Funds pour into research organizations whose drugs are saving lives, including my daughter’s, or helping women with metastatic disease live a little longer. Unfortunately, that success has been jumped on by some who are profiting off the suffering of women young and old like my daughter and mother-in-law and countless others in our world.

Last year, each time I saw an ad marketing a Breast Cancer Awareness Month product I posted this question in the comments: Can you please share how much of the proceeds from sales of this product go to supporting women with breast cancer either through direct support or for research to look for a cure? Out of the over 40 times I asked that question, only one came back with a response indicating that their profits did just that.

This October, as you consider how you might support Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I encourage you to take the extra step to see where the profits from that hoodie or pen or lapel pin are going. There are many organizations out there whose sole purpose is to help women with breast cancer live longer and with better quality of life. Alternatively, calculate how much you would spend on a product and donate that money directly to a known research entity or a national or local organization that provides much needed support.

One of the most devastating aspects of my daughter’s breast cancer treatment experience was the loss of hair, not only on her head but also the eyelashes and eyebrows that help define her face. We found two organizations that helped with that. One was a group that helped provide wigs at no cost, and the other offered special classes showing women like her how to apply eyebrows and attach false eyelashes safely. Imagine your donation allowing a woman to look in the mirror and see someone who looks more like her pre-cancer self than she thought possible.

The impact of chemotherapy and radiation made it unsafe for my daughter to drive. While she didn’t need it because I was there, there are organizations that take care of offering rides to and from treatment centers to those who do. Imagine the relief of being taken door to door instead of figuring out public transportation and hoping you could get home without the side effects hitting you hard along the way.

My daughter was lucky that her workplace insurance allowed her to be paid when she simply couldn’t work so her necessities like rent, utilities and food were all covered. Once again, her family would have stepped in had it been required but not everyone has that kind of safety net. There are some organizations that offer the kind of financial support that keeps people sheltered and fed while they are facing one of the most grueling moments of their lives. Imagine your donation dollars going to that.

In today’s hectic world when there are so many demands on our time, I understand how what I am asking might seem like a lot. But if you have the space to do it, know that doing your research and directing your financial contributions to organizations that use it to make a difference instead of pad their bottom line will also mean a lot for young women like my daughter and all the other one in eight women who will be diagnosed with breast cancer in their lifetimes.

Breast Cancer Awareness Month sees a surge in pink merchandise, but much of the profit benefits companies rather than supporting breast cancer patients or research. While awareness has led to earlier screenings and research funding, many companies exploit this success for profit. Consumers are encouraged to verify where their money goes, opting to donate directly to reputable organizations that provide tangible support, such as wigs, transportation, and financial aid for patients. Thoughtful contributions can significantly impact the lives of those battling breast cancer, offering them dignity and support during treatment.

It’s October, and social media sites are full of vendors selling merchandise featuring pink ribbons. But here's the thing...

Buyer Beware: The Market Value of Breast Cancer Awareness Month

When my daughter was diagnosed with breast cancer at 27, we both had a picture in mind of what the side effects of treatment would look like, mostly from seeing it portrayed on television. Unfortunately, that image of the depth of impact turned out to be a pale representation of what it actually was.

People often describe people facing cancer as being brave. But brave is what you are when you don’t know what is to come, when you walk into a situation unsure of the outcome. What my child had in unmeasurable amounts was courage: the courage to walk back onto the oncology ward for the second chemotherapy infusion, and all those that followed, knowing exactly how awful it would be afterwards.

I liken it to someone telling you that in order to have a chance at survival, you have to let someone smack you in the face with a frying pan once a week. You’re not sure how it will feel, but you want to live, so you do it, and it hurts… a lot. The next time, and all the times after that, you know how it will feel, but you do it anyway.

Due to the risk of catching something infectious that could be life-threatening during chemo, we were avoiding crowded spaces, so the only real outings we had were to the hospital, and she was determined, despite the obvious physical changes, to look her best. She would practice painting on her eyebrows and attaching her eyelashes. She would find online videos with instructions on how to tie scarves over her bald head in funky, fun ways and come out and model them to get my opinion. Outfits were chosen with comfort and style in mind, that coordinated from head to toe so that when people watched us walk in, they saw her, not the cancer patient.

We would sit together trying to come up with food items that might appeal when we knew that nothing really would. Her determination to keep her iron levels up so she would not have to pause treatment meant researching and adding foods to the menu that would support that. I watched her choke down small pieces of steak or bites of quinoa, breathing through each effort her body made to bring it back up.

She struggled as treatment day got closer. She would hide in her room a little more, occupying her mind with video games and favorite television shows. The night before I would sit on the couch and she would lay her head in my lap, and I would stroke her bald scalp as we watched the latest standup specials on Netflix. Neither of us openly expressed our dread but it was there, hanging in the air as we both tucked into our separate beds, knowing it would be a sleepless night.

Then I would watch a vision walk out of her room in the morning, a look of resolve on her perfectly made-up face that said “One more step towards killing you, cancer. One more step”. She would sit in the chemo chair, joking with the staff about how she couldn’t wait for the Benadryl nap to come as they hooked the IV up to her port. She put on her ridiculous sleep mask to block out the light and headphones in her ears to dull the incessant sound of beeping in the room and I would sit beside her grateful beyond words for the respite it gave her.

We would go home and sit in her backyard chatting about anything but what her life was at that moment and then, after too short a time, I would see the darkness start to come over her as the side effects set in. She got a little quieter, a little less bright and then she’d tell me it was time, and we’d go inside so she could lay down.

She did that for twenty chemotherapy treatments. And for the thirty radiation treatments that followed. So… much… courage.

Standing up to cancer is something people getting treatment do every time they walk in the door. They are choosing to endure whatever is necessary to slay the dragon, to stay around to watch their children grow up or not leave their parents or other loved ones alone. They feel the fear and do it anyway over and over again. 

A young woman diagnosed with breast cancer at 27 exemplifies immense courage as she endures the grueling process of chemotherapy and radiation. Despite the physical and emotional toll, she maintains her dignity and determination, focusing on survival and maintaining a semblance of normalcy. Her journey highlights the profound bravery required to face cancer treatment, as she repeatedly confronts the known pain and side effects. This narrative underscores the resilience and strength of cancer patients, who persist in their fight against the disease for themselves and their loved ones.

When my daughter was diagnosed with breast cancer at 27, I watched her show courage through every treatment, side effect and moment of resolve.

How My Daughter Stood Up to Breast Cancer

My daughter’s chemotherapy started at the end of Spring and went right through the Summer, informing every minute of our lives for those months. There was very little frolicking in the sun because of the increased photosensitivity and how she felt most of the time. As we went into Fall and counted the days down until that part of treatment was done, we knew that the punishing side effects were coming to an end, and the sense of anticipation was huge.

Fall is my favorite season, and I was looking forward to sitting outside with my girl enjoying the crisp air knowing that it wouldn’t end with me tucking her under a blanket on the couch for a rest. I couldn’t wait for us to go for walks in the crisp air without her feet hurting from neuropathy. I visualized us being able to go into a café for a pumpkin-spice something since her immune system would be back up and running and encountering people would no longer be a danger.

As the leaves fell from their branches and rakes came out to clear them away, I realized it was time to do some mental cleanup as well. I sorted my thoughts into piles of yellow, orange, brown, and red and slowly but surely stuffed them into bags and put them on my emotional curb for pickup.

Yellow was shifting my thoughts into things like Tuesdays being just another day of the week instead of chemo day. Orange was learning to breathe through things like seeing foods on the grocery shelves that we had purchased in the hope she could eat them and recognizing that they were just… food. Brown was sorting through all the crappy things that had happened to my girl during chemotherapy and accepting that just maybe the worst of them was over.

The red ones, however, were a lot more difficult and the bags kept falling over and dumping them back on my mental lawn.

Red was the helplessness, the fear, the anger. It was all the big emotions that I had been shoving down while I was in action mode, making sure things got done. I worked very hard to manage them, but just as I would think I had swept up the last red leaf, a trigger would appear, and my emotional landscape would be covered in them once again.

It took more than one fall for me to finally put that bag of red leaves onto the curb. The never-ending nature of cancer kept bringing one more scan, one more appointment, one more instance of playing the waiting game when results were pending, that whipped that pile into the air like a sudden gust of wind.

But as the years have passed, as seasons have rolled one into the other, I have been able to step back and not let the bad stuff in so easily. There are still times when I will look down, and there are a few yellow, orange, brown, or red leaves on the ground around me related to my girl’s cancer experience. But now, I close my eyes and breathe in the autumn air as I wrap my arms around my heart and feel my daughter still there. I feel the joy of her existence as we move into my favorite time of year, and I pick up the phone.

“Hey Adrienne… want to go for a pumpkin-spice something this afternoon?”

The narrative captures a parent's emotional journey through their child's chemotherapy, highlighting the transition from the challenges of treatment to the relief and freedom of recovery. The changing seasons metaphorically represent the emotional shifts experienced, with Fall symbolizing hope and renewal. The author reflects on the mental and emotional cleanup required to move past the trauma, acknowledging the persistent challenges of cancer. Over time, the parent learns to manage lingering emotions, finding joy in their daughter's presence and embracing the simple pleasures of life, like enjoying a pumpkin-spice treat together.

As we head into Fall, I’ve been thinking about how much this season represents my daughter’s cancer experience for me.

Debbie Legault

Breast Cancer Awareness Versus ‘It Cannot Be’

Buyer Beware: The Market Value of Breast Cancer Awareness Month

How My Daughter Stood Up to Breast Cancer

How Fall and My Daughter’s Cancer Go Together for Me

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