By Anthony Kayruz
Editor’s Note: This essay, written by the
son of two BCMS members, explores the
effects that his mother’s battle with breast
cancer had on his entire family. It was
included in this issue as a reminder of just
how very personal medicine is, and how
advances in treatment affect lives daily.
This essay also appeared on the Web site of
San Antonio Academy (www.sa-academy.org)
and is reprinted by permission of San Antonio
Academy and Anthony Kayruz’s parents.
Over the past 12 years, my family,
teachers, and friends have influenced
the type of person that I
am today. Personal struggles throughout
my life also have affected me tremendously.
These life experiences have taught me
to be stronger in situations that might
find some people in despair. I have developed
an inner strength that will help
me through hardships in the future.
One personal family struggle that I have
learned a great deal from is my mother’s
battle with breast cancer. From my experience,
I have learned that cancer impacts
the entire family, not just the victim.
I was barely one year old when my
mother was diagnosed with breast cancer.
She was 33 years old and had only
been married for two and one-half years.
I was with my mother, playing on her
bed, when my father ambled into the
bedroom with his hands covering his
face. It sounded as if he was laughing
heartily, so my mother asked, “What’s so
funny?” My father removed his hands
from his face, and we saw tears streaming
from his eyes.
“It’s cancer,” he cried.
Since I was just a toddler, I did not
understand the circumstance at the time,
but I knew there was something wrong.
My mother’s initial reaction was disbelief.
She comforted my father and told
him that it was a “big mistake.” We later
learned that the diagnosis was correct. We
were terribly concerned for my mother,
because most young women diagnosed
with breast cancer only survive a few
years before their untimely deaths.
Our lives changed in a blink of an
eye. From then on, whenever I played
games with my parents, like “underwater,”
a game in which I would pretend to
be a fish under the blankets, which used
to be so much fun, they did not feel the
same. Other activities were affected, as
well. My mother used to commonly take
me to the zoo and local parks, but during
the time she was ill, we spent most
of our days at home. She had to quit
work during her treatments, and she
stopped sending me to daycare.
The atmosphere at home became
more serious. My father cried frequently,
but in secret. My mother tried to stay
positive and, for my sake, make our
family life as normal as possible. She
tried to hide the side effects of the
chemotherapy by always wearing a wig.
She did not want anyone, especially my
father and me, to see her without hair. I
clearly remember the day that I walked
into my parents’ closet and witnessed
my mother, who was just starting to put
on her wig, with only a few strands of
hair on her head. For a few seconds I
was speechless; then I could not help
but holler frantically, “Put the hair back
on, put it back on!” She quickly slapped
the wig back on her head, so that I
could calm down from the shock. My
mother sat me down and explained that
the loss of her hair was due to the side
effects from her treatments. Now, years
later, I realize how vulnerable she was
standing there and how much she was
trying to protect me. She did not want
me to be scared or worry about her.
Fortunately, it has been 11 years since
my father walked into the bedroom to
deliver that dreadful news, and my
mother’s cancer has not returned. She
has survived with the help of a supportive
family, capable doctors, thoughtful
friends, and a strong faith in God. My
father, in particular, has made sacrifices
for my mother. He believes that God listens
to our prayers through sacrifice, so
he made a pact with God that he would
fast until noon every day if God would
keep my mother alive. He has made this
sacrifice for the past 11 years and continues
to do so.
During the six months that my mother
received chemotherapy, she was
defenseless to common infections, due
to a weakened immune system. She
could not work or be surrounded by
people, because if she was exposed to a
common illness, like a cold, it could become a serious threat to her health.
My parents’ friends and family came to
her aid during this difficult time. They
supported her by bringing food to our
home, praying for her, and accompanying
her to numerous doctors’ visits.
My mother tells me that I was the
biggest reason she got through her cancer.
I kept her occupied with things that
keep new mothers busy. She had no
time to dwell on her cancer diagnosis.
She had to live. She wanted to live. She
wanted to see me grow up. I cannot
imagine what life would have been like
without her these past years.
All of this, in combination with my
family’s courage, allowed us to triumph
over her cancer. A cancer diagnosis can
instill hopelessness in some people, but
Dorothy Thompson, an American journalist
and writer, inspires us to be courageous
when faced with challenges during
desperate times: “Courage, it would
seem, is nothing less than the power to
overcome danger, misfortune, fear, injustice,
while continuing to affirm inwardly
that life with all its sorrows is
good; that everything is meaningful even
if in a sense beyond our understanding;
and that there is always tomorrow.”
Like Dorothy Thompson, I believe
that families can find the good in the
worst situations, and that hope should
not be lost during the toughest of times.
From this experience, my family and I
have become strong supporters of other
women with breast cancer and have
helped raise funds for breast cancer
research by participating in the Susan G.
Komen Race for the Cure®.
I have developed a strong connection
to this cause because of my family’s
experience with this disease. I have taken
notice that breast cancer exists among
others I have encountered in my life. A
beloved teacher at San Antonio
Academy, Mrs. Luisa Bolen, has won the
battle against breast cancer. She lives her
life with great joy and is loved by all her
students. Mrs. Bolen is also a strong supporter
of the Race for the Cure and is a
loyal participant.
When I participate in the Race for the
Cure, I notice other children, younger
than myself, whose mothers are battling
this disease. I can empathize with these
children and offer them encouragement
because my family and I were able to triumph
over this horrible illness. I can
tell them “not to worry about it”
because scientists are exploring new
remedies for curing their mothers’
breast cancer. I would also inform
them that my mother has survived 11
years with dated treatments and that
new improvements are being made
every day, so hope should not be lost.
I have learned that breast cancer is
not a discriminating disease. It affects
women of all ages, races, and cultures.
It does not matter if a woman is rich
or poor, healthy or not. In fact, most
victims, like my mother, have no family
history of breast cancer. In the 11
years I have participated in the Race for
the Cure, I have seen the number of
people supporting this cause grow. I
have observed that there are many
more “pink shirts” or survivors at the
event every year. I am overjoyed to witness
that many more women are surviving,
just like my mother. This experience
has taught me that people can
become stronger by enduring hardships.
As the French proverb states:“Despair doubles our strength.”
My family could have given up, but
instead we battled on and became
stronger and more determined to make
the situation better. This hardship has
helped mold the person who I am
today. My family’s struggle and triumph
with breast cancer has taught
me valuable lessons in hope, perseverance,
and love. Every first weekend in
April, you will find me running proudly
in the Race for the Cure with a sign
on my back that reads: “In celebration
of my mother.”
Anthony Kayruz is a 12-year-old seventhgrader
at San Antonio Academy. He has
participated in the Race for the Cure annually
since he was 2. He was awarded the
Colonel W.T. Bondurant, Jr. Humanitarian
Award on 10 January 2008, for this essay.
He was selected from four top finalists
amongst seventh- and eighth-graders who
recited their essays in an oratorical contest.
The winner was selected by panelists from
the Alumni Council of San Antonio
Academy. Anthony loves LEGOS®, playing
tennis, and computer games. He aspires to
be a writer.
Anthony’s mother, Sandra Vasquez, MD
is a family physician in San Antonio.
She is the Director of the Student Health
Center at St. Mary’s University. She is an
11-year breast cancer survivor. She, too,
participates annually in the Race for the
Cure and gives many presentations to the
community regarding breast cancer.
Anthony’s father, Naji Kayruz, MD is a
general surgeon in San Antonio. He treats
breast cancer patients and is also a strong
supporter of the Race for the Cure.
