Every time my dad looked at me he started bawling. “Dad, I’m going to be ok, I tried to reassure him.” “But I’m not,” he responded. “I can’t handle the idea of my baby girl dying.”I had always put other people’s feelings first, but for once I needed to be selfish. One evening I told him that I needed to take care of myself at this time and I couldn't worry about taking care of him too. I also told him that he needed to be strong for me, but if he couldn't do that, then I'd have to wait until this was all over to talk to him again. We didn't talk for another year.

Several months later I had heard from my mom that my dad was severely depressed and called Dr. #3 for her advice. She explained that he probably felt very guilty because he had somehow passed along a gene to me causing me to get cancer. She thought it would be beneficial for him to talk to other men going through similar situations and found a group of men for him to talk to. Besides feeling guilty, he felt helpless. He was in the medical field and used to finding solutions to problems based on evidence. There was no exact solution to this, nor was there enough evidence about younger women and breast cancer and it made him crazy. I have no doubt that she saved his life. He only told me later that he had contemplated ending everything during that time.

Mom had a slightly easier time than Dad because she had many friends she could talk to. Still I felt that I couldn’t cry in front of her because she was already so upset. I knew that my crying would only make it worse. She cried often while I was back in Boston. One night as we sat on the couch trying to watch TV, I saw out of the corner of my eye, tears falling down her face. I looked over at her and asked her to please stop. She said, "I just wish this were happening to me instead of you.” I asked her if she would get anything out of having cancer and she said no. “That’s precisely why I’m glad it’s happening to me." I knew that no matter how tough this was going to be, I was going to learn a lot from this situation. It would put a lot of things into perspective and I knew somehow it would change my life for the better. She started sobbing.

Emotionally I was OK, until I saw either one of my parents cry. When they cried, everything felt worse. It was terrible knowing I was causing them this pain and I knew they were taking it much harder than I was. I avoided crying in front of Mom to protect her. I knew that if I could appear strong in front of her in the beginning, she would see that it would be ok. I needed to build up her strength at first so she could take care of me later. But after several weeks of protecting her, I knew the time had come where I couldn’t be strong for both of us anymore. Later that night, I had a long conversation with mom telling her what I needed from her during the next year. “Mom, I know this is really hard for both you and dad, but I need to be able to cry in front of you. I need to be able to rely on you right now and I can’t be the strong one for both of us. Do you think you can be strong for both of us?” She looked at me for a long time and nodded her head. From that point on, I never once saw her cry.