A Cancer Survivor's Thanksgiving Reflection

As we’re about to celebrate Thanksgiving 2025, I’d like to honor someone for whom I’m grateful — my son, Thomas. Tom was 6 years old in 2011 when I was diagnosed with my first breast cancer, and 11 when I was diagnosed with my second in 2016. Both times were difficult for him, but he kept to his routine and came out on top. He continued to go to school, not missing a day.

After my mastectomy, he began to draw women with huge scars on their chest. Using art was one of his ways of coping with my illness. Tom also prayed to keep me alive because he wanted me to see him graduate and to see where he would end up in the future.

One of my favorite actors, Sally Field, was famous for her statement at an Academy Awards ceremony: “You like me; you really like me.” I feel this way about Tom, a little surprised that after my difficult past and consequently, his difficult past, that he still likes me. How do I know this? Because he has adopted some of my ways. For instance, he writes articles and short books for children. He’s got the writing bug. Another similarity is that he loves God, like I do. I have a picture of Jesus on the wall in my office. In it, Jesus is touching his bright pink heart. Recently, Tom came to me and told me that he wanted a Jesus picture for his wall in his room. We found the perfect one eBay. He has it displayed in his bedroom. Most importantly, Tom loves to engage in conversation about anything and everything – picking my brain for advice on how to proceed with life. Tom recently turned 21.

Yes, I guess we made it through the cancer years. One of the only scars is Tom’s hatred of hospitals. Because Tom had to visit me so often when I was a cancer patient, he wants to avoid hospitals at all costs. This hasn’t been a problem because, thank God, Tom is healthy.

Now, Tom is in college, and we’re beginning to plan his future. After he graduates, we’re hoping that he can do an internship in Pittsburgh, one of our favorite cities, using his Graphic Arts certificate. He’d like to find an internship at an art museum such as the Andy Warhol Musuem. His childhood artwork of ladies with chest scars was profound enough to be featured in a museum or in an art show.

In conclusion, I am thankful to be Tom’s mom. He helped me survive the Big C twice, and for that, I’m grateful. This Thanksgiving, when we sit down to our feast, we’ll say a prayer for our whole family both near and far. My family is in Ohio, and my husband’s family is in Rhode Island. I wish we could all be together.

This year, I must note that my mother turned 94. We celebrated her birthday in October at the rehab center in the arts and crafts room.

Tom is the youngest member of our family, and my mom is the oldest. I’m also grateful to my mother, who carried me through cancer.

And no blog post about being grateful would be complete without thanking my husband. For all the times we sat in coffee shops and I cried due to mouth sore pain and the loss of my fingernails; for all the times I couldn’t get out of bed; for all the times I was admitted to the hospital one more time, Stephen saw me though.

Yes, my recovery was an ensemble tour de force.

It took a village.

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

For more news on cancer updates, research and education, don’t forget to subscribe to CURE®’s newsletters here.