Why I Ride: Lisa Hurst

My mom was truly the life of any party. She was the most giving and loving person I have ever met. She consistently put the needs of others way before her own needs. She lived with a smile on her face, and sincerely enjoyed life. She was a wonderful mother, and an even better grandmother. She lived for any opportunity to spend time with my daughters.

When she was 37, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She took her diagnosis in stride, and as far as her kids knew, it didn’t bother or scare her.  On her post-surgery night, she even invited friends to her hospital room for a little party. She was determined to not let cancer get her down.

My mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in the spring of 2002, when she was 65 years old. She had been feeling bloated, full, and crampy for several months. Her doctors initially told her that she had fibroid tumors and needed a hysterectomy. As part of her routine pre-op, a radiologist noticed something abnormal on her chest x-ray. Upon further testing, the doctors discovered that she had phase IV ovarian cancer.

My mom was such a selfless person; she never felt sorry for herself, at least in front of anyone else. She had an amazing attitude, even though I think deep down, she knew what her chances of survival were. She hated inconveniencing or having to rely on anyone and would try to do everything on her own. What truly broke my heart was her concern for me and how I was handling and processing her illness. Instead of being upset or angry about her own diagnosis, she was concerned about how it affected me.

I could not have handled all of the care taking on my own as I had two small children at the time. Fortunately, my mom’s best friend, Melanie Fogel, was right there with me, every step of the way. We coordinated who would take my mom to each chemo treatment, CT scan, or doctor appointment, who would drive her to work (when we had to take away her car keys!), how we could get my mom to eat, etc. Every cancer patient needs a Melanie Fogel!

Being my mom’s caretaker was the most rewarding and utterly difficult thing I have ever done. It was rewarding in the sense that I could finally do something for her… the person who was constantly doing things for others. It was difficult in that I knew the statistics of women with phase  IV ovarian cancer, and it simply broke my heart because I sensed her outcome would not be good.

Almost two years after my mom’s initial diagnosis, she passed away. She was at home and knew the end was near. On the morning that she passed, she actually felt relatively good despite the fact that she hadn’t been out of bed for 2-3 days and had eaten only spoonfuls of food. She was knitting (her favorite past time) and extremely chatty. Because she seemed so energetic, I decided I would bring my girls (ages 4 and 7) over to visit for a while. The girls sat on her bed and talked quietly with her. It was heartbreaking to me as I knew it was probably the last time they would see her, yet they had no idea. After they left, my mom and I discussed the possibility of her trying a different chemo, but we both realized it was too late for that. My sister was in town, and the three of us sat on my mom’s bed and talked for a while. To the extent we could, we said our goodbyes. My mom then fell asleep and never regained consciousness. My brother and I were with her when she passed away. It was surreal.

I got involved with Be the Difference Foundation when it was first formed. My longtime family friend, Helen Gardner, who co-founded Be the Difference Foundation with three other ovarian cancer survivors, asked me if I wanted to help with the first cycling event. Helen asked me to be on the board a year later. Saying yes was one of the best decisions I ever made. Having the ability to spend large amounts of time with Helen and the other board members has been extremely rewarding.

I ride in Wheel to Survive for a multitude of reasons. One main reason is Helen. One morning she and I went to a training ride. She had chemo the week before, and I knew she wasn’t feeling well. Before the ride, I asked her how she felt, and she somewhat brushed me off. We both got on our bikes and started riding. I was a bit tired that day and honestly not in the mood to ride, however, I kept looking at Helen. She felt infinitely worse than me and was pedaling away.

I kept telling myself, if Helen can ride, I can ride. If not for me, but for her. I also ride in memory of my mom and to show my family, friends, and other riders how together, we can all make a difference.

Join Lisa and other riders by registering for Wheel to Survive Lubbock 2016 here.