City News

”You have to have HOPE.”

My family was forced to flee Cuba in the 1960s when my dad was jailed by Cuban President Fidel Castro. I accompanied my mother and my older sister, Rosa, to the United States, landing in Los Angeles on Oct. 12, 1967.

Four years later, my mother was diagnosed with advanced breast cancer. She believed strongly in life and she did everything she could to stay alive for us. That meant radiation therapy and a mastectomy. Sadly, that wasn’t enough, and she passed away in 1971.

Rosa raised me. Since she was 17 years old then, and I was 8, we essentially left our childhoods behind. Part of what made us strong was that we had each other, as well as our mother’s spirit and teachings. We both grew up to attend college and ultimately raise families of our own — lives we knew our mother would have been proud of.

We were always aware of cancer, so we took care of ourselves. Then my worst fear came true in January 1999. My gynecologist, a doctor who always listened to me and had given me my yearly mammograms, said, “I don’t think there’s a problem, but I want you to come in.”

I had just had a mammogram and a lump was detected. My doctor recommended an ultrasound. When I returned for the results, he was crying. He confirmed I had breast cancer. I felt I knew I was going to die. I didn’t know of anything other than death. But I also knew I would fight it, like my mother did. But where was I going to get the best possible cancer treatment? The first place I thought of was City of Hope.

City of Hope was different. They’re in tune with patients’ needs. They’re not just treating a disease, but caring for a person.

After considering all my options, I decided on a mastectomy and what I can only describe as the most effective, yet hardest, therapy. This involved chemotherapy, large doses of radiation and very unpleasant side effects. I knew this was the best course. I couldn’t gamble. I wanted to do everything I could to stay alive for my kids.

I had my mastectomy in February 1999. The next month, Rosa also was diagnosed with breast cancer. She was not treated at City of Hope, so she didn’t get the same kind of care I got. However, we both received genetic screening at City of Hope, and we both tested positive for the BRCA1 breast cancer gene. That’s when I decided I would have a mastectomy on my other breast and a hysterectomy. I was not going to give cancer a second shot at me.

Sadly, my sister’s cancer spread rapidly and claimed her life on June 5, 2001. Losing her was like losing my mother all over again. Cancer enters a person and invades their body, but it also devastates the family. I don’t know what I’d do without my biggest cheerleaders: my husband and children. Now that I’m cancer-free and fully recovered, I spend a good deal of time volunteering at City of Hope, my “second home.” I encourage women to get screened for cancer, and for those who are diagnosed, to stay positive. You have to have hope.

Noemi Maldonado, who works as an insurance adjuster, resides
with her family in Rialto, Calif.

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