Stand Up To Cancer

"Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me, for when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12: 9-10

Framed verse given to my mother several years ago, found in the basement of my childhood home in Inverness, IL last December, two months prior to her death. Frame reads: Claudia--Submission to God

Three months have elapsed since I lost my mother, Claudia Fecarotta, 55 years young, mother of two, sister of ten, loving wife to my father, Thomas, Jr., friend to hundreds, and as close to a mother-in-law as one could get to Angela LaMonica, my fiancee. The original goal was to get her to our wedding (this May--5/22) when she started chemotherapy for lung cancer last fall. Then the goal was adjusted to get her to spring, when just three months into treatment the cancer had spread to her bones. Neither goal was realized.

She walked into her kitchen on a sunny, late-summer day last August, and complained of discomfort in her chest. I was visiting that weekend. The discomfort was more of a nuisance to her--she thought maybe she had worked too hard in her garden or had an allergic reaction. It's a memory that's inexhaustible now. Many are from the last eight months.

When she was diagnosed with Stage IIIa non-small cell lung cancer at Loyola University (Cardinal Bernadin Cancer Center), it was roughly one month after her original complaint of discomfort in her chest. I still wonder today if a more efficient screening test existed, maybe her life could have been saved--or at worst, prolonged.

She was told a few days after diagnosis last September that she was lucky to have any symptoms at all. The luck ended there for her--and us--as she passed away just five months later and left people behind who relied on her, savored her wit, rejoiced in her spirit, love her.

Our Stand

Now that she has been gone three months, it's now time to reflect on my mother's life, her disease, and the outlook for lung cancer. My mother quit smoking well over decade ago, and developed what her oncologist termed light-to-non-smoker's lung cancer.

Living in Chicago, I would commute to Loyola almost every day to see her smiling face greet me amidst all her pain. I remember the nights driving home in October during her aggressive chemotherapy and radiation regimen (a 40-day stint), watching the sun set over the Chicago skyline and the pink lights start to illuminate the Willis/Sears Tower. It was breast cancer awareness month, and people were greatly aware.

It made me cringe then, because breast cancer was (and still is) receiving more funding from the NCI and ACS than lung cancer, despite the alarming number of cases and deaths of lung cancer, including thousands of deaths among non-smokers and light smokers like my mother. But I look at the funding disparity in a different light now. You cannot fight a battle of perceptions. It's remarkable that we are saving the lives of those diagnosed with breast cancer, a feat only possible by advanced treatments and proper funding, funding that one day will be directed toward lung cancer.

In order to stand up to lung cancer, we must be made aware of the century-long deceit of the tobacco industry, an empire that has masked its entire history behind powerful people in charge of where our cancer research money is spent. We have made strides in smoking bans and anti-smoking campaigns for our children, but the CDC notes that smoking rates have remained virtually the same among adults.

With SU2C, we are pleased to find an organization that is transparent with how donated money is divided into dream teams, that opens doors to all cancer research avenues, and has the ultimate goal beating--and preventing--all types of cancer.

----------------------------------------

My mother used chemotherapy drugs that were administered to patients as early as 1978. When these treatments failed, she began using Tarceva, a targeted lung cancer therapy that, if effectively matched with the patient's specific molecular traits, could reverse progress of the rapidly dividing cancer cells. Unfortunately for her, she did not have this specific mutation, and there were no other answers for her. All that was left was the culmination of weeks of aggressive chemotherapy, the inability to move her right arm from possible neurotoxicity, the inability to eat and hold down food, the inability to live the way she wanted to. When she no longer could fight, we brought her home near the end of winter. It was sunny for five straight days prior to her death, a first glimpse of spring and a real rarity in Chicago. She became increasingly unaware of her surroundings up until her final days, but one of my favorite memories is watching her wake up one morning, turn to me and say: "That's five."

As a family, we continue to champion my mom in many ways, who was greatly revered by us and, in my opinion, deserved a better chance at fighting her lung cancer. Below are notes from some of her nieces and nephews, who wrote of fond memories of their aunt:

I remember how Aunt Claudia always asked how I was doing. She always cared greatly about how people were feeling. Aunt Claudia always made everyone feel loved. -Paul

I remember her as a genuinely kind person. She was an aunt I enjoyed talking with, an aunt I liked to see. She always gave me a hug and asked how I was doing, and she really did want to know the answer. She threw really great parties. She was never, ever in your face. Aunt Claudia was a sweet, caring person, and I will miss her. She was an aunt I wish I could have seen more often
-Claudia

--Tom Fecarotta

Tom and Angie have started an SU2C Team, "Not In Vain," in Claudia's memory. You can join their team here, or start an SU2C Team of your own here.