Fight 4 Cure Inc History

Frances Hill
December 17, 1948 - November 19, 2016

The Story That Started Fight 4 Cure Inc

Dr. Wright always thought of herself as an aspiring transformational leader; always determined to discover ways to contribute to the creation of valuable and positive change not only in herself, but in others around her. And, the ideology of giving back to the community and others has always and will always be at the forefront.

It seems as though it were yesterday; I can remember my mother coming to visit us in North Carolina. A few days into her visit, my mother came to me and asked if I would check a spot on her breast. The area she wanted me to check was discolored and felt hard to the touch. It was obvious something was wrong and I recommended that as soon as she returned home to get it checked. A few days later my mother returned home. As soon as my mother’s plane departed, my sister called. She informed me that her doctor had found lumps in her breasts and placed markers in the locations. She was also told that it could be breast cancer. She did not believe it, so she asked if she should get a second opinion. Her second opinion only confirmed the first diagnosis.

When my mother finally arrived home, my sister and her husband was waiting at the airport. My sister informed my mother of the doctor’s diagnosis. Early Spring 2013, at the age of 43, my sister was diagnosed with Stage 1 breast cancer. My mother went into her nurturing mode and put her own health concerns on hold to ensure my sister was going to be okay. My sister went into surgery immediately and once it was determined that she was safely on the road to recovery, my mother finally went to get herself checked a few months later. What happened from this point is still difficult for me to talk about because my mother, 64, was diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer. The spot spoken of earlier had turned into a cancerous tumor, which had broken through her skin and resulted in the shrinkage of her right breast, the loss of use of her right arm, hand, and shoulder. Although it is still difficult to talk about, I have become more knowledgeable about genetic testing and any other information as it pertains to the many forms of breast cancer, especially since I have a daughter and granddaughter.

My mother and sister were both terrified of their diagnosis, but their medical treatment team ensured they both received the appropriate individual treatment plan. For the next several months or so, my sister continued with recovery and my mother began aggressive chemotherapy treatment. In between treatment, my mother was always willing to travel with us and did things to keep busy. Although she was grateful for a wonderful team of doctors, the one thing she didn’t understand during her treatment was "why there wasn’t any additional resources outside of treatment and research to help her?" No information was shared about financial assistance programs or organizations that provided compression garments, cranial prothesis, or support groups to low-income, underrepresented or underserved cancer patients. So I did my best to support my mother emotionally and financially.

A major turning point in my mother’s determination to survive came from one of her younger sister’s successful bout from breast cancer as well as a first cousin’s successful bout with breast cancer. Unfortunately, one thing my mother, sister, aunt and her cousin never had was the courage to admit they had breast cancer and/or the willingness to share their stories with others.

My mother continued chemotherapy and it was accompanied with a lot of side effects. She experienced all of that and more. I struggled with both my sister and mother's diagnosis and it was especially difficult because I had lumps appearing in my breasts. I’ve had multiple breast biopsies and punch tests, all which were diagnosed as cysts and/or benign (noncancerous). I didn’t worry them, but let the truth be told, I was scared. Every time I felt a lump, my heart would race because it is a known fact that I have a higher risk of developing this ravaging disease too.

For about three years after diagnosis, my mother lived life to the fullest as best as she possibly could. My mother was now doing everything she could to fight for her life. She tried to keep up a brave front and would often be heard saying “if God get me through this, I will take better care of myself.” But then, for reasons only known to God, the disease once again began to ravage her body. The cancer had spread to her brain; she needed surgery. Two weeks post surgery, our worst nightmare became a reality. The brain surgery incision reopened as her body couldn’t repair itself. It was becoming obvious that our time with her was drawing to a close.

I took time off from academia to fly home. By the time I had arrived home, my mother had already been rushed to the ICU from the rehabilitation center. When I arrived, my mother looked at me and said she wanted to go home. This practically tore my heart because I knew she was not going to go home this time. My mother was in so much pain that I had to ask the nurse if they could give her something to ease the pain. When they administered the medication through her IV, she looked at me, removed her oxygen mask and then went to sleep. Later that evening, the doctor came in and said “they have done everything they could possibly do and we may need to think about hospice.”

My sister did not want to remove any medical equipment because she constantly stated “I don’t want to give up on her because she didn’t give up on me” even after the doctors had told her its nothing else to be done because the disease had completely ravaged her entire body. After two hours, we finally gave the hospital permission to remove the medical equipment. My mother was resting peacefully so we decided to return home with the intent of visiting her early the next morning. About an hour after arriving to my sister's home, the hospital called to send their apologies as my mother was no longer with us.

The months after my mother's passing were the saddest. Although there was a missing link in our family, it was time to get on with life, pick ourselves up and start living life without her presence. I still spend a lot of time thinking about her. There is definitely a void in my life. I often wonder if my mother is proud of me and whether she is watching over me?

I wanted to do something to let my mother know she was never alone, will always be in my heart, and never forgotten about. So a few years after her passing, I gave more thought to the problem of not only there being a lack of support services for low-income, underrepresented and underserved individuals affected by cancer with emphasis on breast cancer, but also on how many of the cancer patients from these communities often feel alone. So, I wondered what I could do to help individuals not only affected by breast cancer but by ALL cancers in this community to let them know "They Are Not Alone" in his fight! Could I make a difference?