Cancer creates connections in our lives. And some are hard to forget.
PUBLISHED May 14, 2018
Khevin Barnes is a Male Breast Cancer survivor, magician and speaker. He is currently writing, composing and producing a comedy stage musical about Male Breast Cancer Awareness. He travels wherever he is invited to speak to (and do a little magic for) men and women about breast cancer. www.BreastCancerSpeaker.com www.MaleBreastCancerSurvivor.com
I got the call on Mother's Day 2014. I had flown to California to be with my mom who, at 93 years of age, had fallen ill and was not expected to live much longer. There was a message left on my cell phone. "Hello Khevin. I have a little bit of bad news. The breast mass is cancer…" This past weekend, on Mother's Day, I celebrated my fourth year as a breast cancer survivor. I also celebrated the life of my mom, who died two days after my diagnosis, never knowing that I had cancer.
Who doesn't remember where they were and who they were with when they first got the bad news? I sometimes wonder how doctors prepare themselves to break the news to us. Do they say it out loud a few times to see how it flows? Do they use the same language for every patient?
Who doesn't remember where they were and who they were with when they first got the bad news? I sometimes wonder how doctors prepare themselves to break the news to us. Do they say it out loud a few times to see how it flows? Do they use the same language for every patient?
You may think that a cell phone message is a little too informal, perhaps even cold. But the truth is, I was traveling and asked my oncologist to let me know the results of my biopsy and ultrasound tests if they happened to come in on that Sunday. To her credit, she took the time from her own Mother's Day with her family to give me the information I had asked for. I learned over the phone that I had cancer, just as I had learned of my mom’s diagnosis, too.
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