Robin Lysek’s Story of Hope
My Cancer Journey I was diagnosed with Triple Negative Breast Cancer In the summer of 2009. I was 46 and had three young children. My father was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer the very next day. He was in his 80s but wanted to tackle radiation to be my cancer buddy to see me get healed. After surgeries, chemotherapy and radiation, I was in remission and have been since 2010. Its amazing how you never want to be in this ‘club’ known as cancer. But I have met so many friends and worked with many organizations that I would not have known about if I not had cancer. These local organizations provide so much support and care to the Lehigh Valley. Cancer Support Community – My initial contact from CSC was when I was initially diagnosed. I received a care basket from them with information about their programs. I donated my wigs to CSC. I volunteer and consult with CSC. I reconnected with a friend from work at CSC and we volunteered at Boutique for Hope together. I am an Ambassador of Hope and get to see what great new things CSC can accomplish! What an amazing group of folks who really care. First Strides – a great organization for women who want to stay in shape and are beginner runners/walkers. I have participated in this program for 15 years. These women meet weekly in the Lehigh Parkway to walk/run and receive lots of self-care information. Many of these women are cancer survivors. Women’s 5k – Their mission is to promote fitness among women and to support women with Breast & Gynecologic Cancers and their families and to contribute funding for related programs and research in the Lehigh Valley. I was the speaker for this annual event and got to share my story of hitting rock bottom but fighting for myself and my family. My family has been touched by cancer in so many ways. Five out of six siblings and both my parents had cancer. Lung, testicular, breast, colon, skin. I am not alone with my story. Many folks have to navigate cancer. CSC is here to help with a wide range of services and programs. CSC is an amazing organization for those battling cancer and their families and caregivers. I am honored to be a small part of this organization. I am so proud of CSC and all they do for our community!
Rachel Kennedy Holmes’s Story of Hope
I have been a part of the Cancer Support community for several years. In March of 2020, at the same time the world was shutting down due to Covid, my hero and very best friend, my mom, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It was Stage IV and had spread to her liver and lungs. My mom is and forever will be my entire world. Ask anyone who knew her, she was the most vibrant, happy, hard-working woman you could ever meet. She was also “healthy” (or so we thought) and very active in the community, with her friends, family, church, and she LOVED her Zumba. She especially loved my sister and I, and the Allentown St. Patrick’s Day parade. I could talk to you forever about my mommy. Sadly, this journey isn’t easy. My mom fought her ass off. She lost her battle on January 31, 2023. I did everything I could for her, and I believe she knew that. I will never be the same without her. As strong and as optimistic as my mom was, she was scared. She went to get her port in, alone. First chemo and many of the treatments, alone. My sister and I went to stand in the window for the first and several because I needed to be as close to her as possible. She/we did not have the support that most would have, as it was already a very scary time for everyone with the pandemic. In 2021, we came to the butterfly release, and she approached the Cancer Community Support table and was greeted by the friendly smiles that many of you might know. I specifically remember Nancy. Mom started to cry. I knew she felt all the love from me, our fam and friends and we were the best support we could be, but we did not have the experience or resources she needed. From this day and introduction to the community, she started attending monthly Pancreatic support meetings, and I joined her for most, if not all those support meetings. I still do attend most of them. Thank you to Jen and the members who continue to welcome me. Once we started attending pancreatic support meetings, I learned more about the caregiver support meetings, which I also started attending. We were battling, but we were strong, and we fought together. In the Fall of 2022, I was diagnosed with stage 1A Breast cancer. With that, I also started to attend breast cancer support meetings. This organization has offered such support, guidance, encouragement, and hope. I am appreciative of all these people. I am grateful for the care received by both my mother and I, the support I have received in the groups and individually from Mary. I must also thank Mary for introducing me to someone else (my new friend, Jen) who is also a breast cancer survivor and recently lost her mother as well. I feel very honored that I was asked to speak here today to share a small glimpse of my story. Thank you, Cancer Support Community of the Greater Lehigh Valley for all that you do.
Murtaza’s Story
“I met a man who had anonymously donated his kidney. He said he did it for his faith. And I thought, ‘If he can do this for his faith, I can do this for my dad.’” ~ Murtaza Jaffer This is the story of 37-year-old Murtaza Jaffer and his father, Safderali Jaffer, whose bladder cancer had metastasized to his kidneys. It is a story of a family so tightly bonded that they live next to each other, and so intensely loyal that they would do anything for one another. Which is what Murtaza did. *** Safderali and his wife followed their two sons, who had left Tanzania for college in the Lehigh Valley nearly 20 years ago. He kept his accounting business operating, but he wanted the U.S. to become their new home. Murtaza and his brother bought a printing business, EBC Printing in Trexlertown, 15 years ago. It grew, and now thrives. Suddenly, eight years ago, Safderali was rushed to the hospital with unusual bleeding. Bladder cancer. No one is ever ready for such a diagnosis, and the Jaffers were especially shocked as Safderali was healthy, didn’t smoke, ate well, and had no family history of cancer. The doctors removed his bladder. But there was more, for cancer had invaded his kidneys. He’d need dialysis for his failing kidneys—nearly eight hours a day, three days a week. Forever. He endured this punishing regime for a year. There were options, one of which was a kidney transplant, but, somehow, this option didn’t really register with Murtaza. He knew about it, but he didn’t focus on it. Yet, it was there, burrowing in. He watched his father stoically undergo dialysis week after week. And then, one night, he attended a seminar for transplant recipients and donors. “I met a man who had anonymously donated his kidney to an unknown recipient. He said he did it for his faith. And I thought, ‘If he can do this for his faith, I can do this for my dad’” says Murtaza. His mind was made up. He contacted the hospital, researched the procedure, had himself and his brother tested for compatibility. They both matched. But Murtaza resolved to be the donor. “The hardest part,” he shakes his head, “was dealing with my family, not the surgery.” He had to persuade his mother and sister—and his father. Only his brother and his wife supported him. “Half my family said not to do it: I was just starting life, and my wife was about to have a baby.” But he was adamant. After surgery—which he knew would be tough—he felt as if he’d been hit by a bus. “But my dad,” Murtaza smiles, “felt as if he’d been given a Rolls Royce engine. When I shuffled into the room, he waved and said, ‘Hey, partner!’” Two months later Murtaza regained his energy and returned to work. His father was joyous: strong, independent, free of exhausting dialysis. “Two great years,” Murtaza nods happily. Finally, Safderali’s transplant doctor permitted him to travel, and he and his wife headed to Tanzania to close his accounting business and say goodbye to friends and relatives so he could return to the Lehigh Valley and play with his grandchildren. And then, in the midst of his trip, excruciating back pain crippled him. Murtaza and his brother flew over. The doctors thought sciatica might be the cause. They took x-rays, and were puzzled by the dots on Safderali’s spine. At last, the family decided that they must get Safderali to the Lehigh Valley for the high-quality medical care he’d had so far. The pain coursed through him during the day-and-a-half-long flight. Transferring him from one plane to another was agonizing, but, ultimately, he arrived at Newark Airport. His family intended to rush him to the hospital, but he wanted to pause a moment. He asked for one night at home. The diagnosis was grim. The dots on his spine were cancer. The bladder cancer which had metastasized to his kidneys had now metastasized to his spine. There was nothing more to be done. But Safderali didn’t feel done. When his doctors explained that he had limited time, he didn’t believe them. It fell to Murtaza’s mother to tell her husband he was not going to make it. “She was the strong one throughout this,” Murtaza acknowledges grimly. “She took care of his physical needs and gave him emotional support. I don’t think my brother and I could have done this.” Murtaza called the Cancer Support Community the day he learned his father was terminal. He’d found a brochure in the doctor’s office. He was looking for help, for he was in shock. “Time was against me, so I never came. If I had had more time, I would have brought my family.” But he toured the offices and met the staff. Safderali died six weeks after his return. Murtaza had given his father a transformational gift that allowed him to resume his life, and then to put it in order, tie up loose ends, bid farewell. In fact, the transplant was a way for everyone to bid farewell.