My mother was first diagnosed with breast cancer when I was 10 years old (she was 40).  I didn't know she had cancer at the time, because my parents decided to tell me and my younger brother that mom was  just "sick", and would need to be in the hospital.  I remember visiting her at Georgetown Hospital after she'd had "surgery" (which I found out later was to remove a lump in her breast), but I don't ever remember having the feeling when I saw Mom that there was really anything that seriously wrong with her.  One of the defining qualities about my mother was that she always had a smile on her face, and never, ever, let anyone see the pain that I'm sure she was suffering through, either emotional or physical.  I remember she was in the hospital for at least a week, and since my dad was either working or visiting my mom, my parents arranged to have a different one of their friends pick up my brother and I from school/day care and cook our dinner and take care of us until Dad got home.  Mom had to go through radiation after she came home from the hospital, but no chemotherapy.  The most significant thing I remember about this beginning chapter of Mom's battle was that, I don't remember a lot of it, partly because I was only 9, but also partly because my parents both did such an amazing job of preventing my brother and I from realizing how serious things were, or could have been.  Later in life, I can recall conversations with my Mom where I let her know how grateful I was that she and my dad shared just enough information with us but protected us from information too complicated for us to grasp at that time.   I think she appreciated hearing that since it was a difficult decision for them to make, how much to share with a 10 and an 8 year old.

About 3 years later, Mom's oncologist determined that her cancer had returned, when they found another lump in her breast.  Her oncologist decided at that point to do a mastectomy, and Mom also went through chemotherapy and radiation.  I remember this second time she had cancer, she had to buy a wig (which she ended up needing, this was her first of many eventual hair losses/re-growths).  I remember her telling me when I was an adult how difficult that was for her to buy the wig.  She actually bought the wig prior to losing her hair, after being told that it's much better to do it before you actually need it - at that point it's just too hard.  I never actually discussed this with my mother, but I also wonder just how difficult it was for her to have her mastectomy.  I wonder how she felt about her femininity.  I wonder how she felt when she looked at her body in the mirror.  The cool thing though is - I think I know the answer without even having to ask her.  I'm sure it was hard, but I'm sure that both her strength as well as the incredible love my father had for her got her through it.  She never dwelled on those things she couldn't change either, she accepted them and learned to live with them.