West Hartford native Kellyann Taylor faced her mother’s illness, and an illness of her own, at a very young age, motivating the recipient of a PinkRose Foundation scholarship to pursue a career in medicine.

By Kellyann Taylor

I was just 2 years old when my mother was first diagnosed with breast cancer. I was so young that I didn’t process the reality of my family’s situation.

My toddler mind perceived my mother’s cancer as something entirely different than what it was. From my perspective my mom was losing her hair, but it was okay because she put her silly wigs on the candlesticks in the dining room to make it fun. Baseball hats were becoming a part of her everyday wardrobe, so I assumed her love for the Red Sox grew exponentially overnight. She couldn’t lift me up after surgery, but that was just because I was becoming a big kid. Everyone we knew seemed to be dropping baked goods and dinners off at the house, so that was fun! At 2, mom’s cancer didn’t seem bad at all.

Two years went by, and my mother was finally starting to get her hair back, but we were back at the hospital. This time it was for me. I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease that landed me on the pediatric oncology and hematology floor twice a week. Years went on and I started to get better, but my mother’s cancer, which had been continuously monitored since 2007, was getting worse.

By 2014 my mother was back to receiving chemotherapy. This time I knew what was happening. There were no wigs on candlesticks, rather a stage IV diagnosis accompanied her Red Sox hat this time around.

My mother went to her weekly chemotherapy and despite being exhausted upon her return home, always had a smile on her face and wanted to know how her three children’s days at school were. She never wanted to let the disease define her. There were days when it was unavoidable though. Sleepless nights of cramps and side effects bled into daily fights with our health insurance for the coverage and care she needed to survive.

I got sick at a young age, and I witnessed my mother’s illness at an even younger age. I knew when I started going to the hospital myself that I wanted to become a doctor, but as I became more conscious of my mother’s reality, I became motivated to specifically become an oncologist. I had attempted to help the cancer community in my area when I was younger, starting a toy drive for the local children’s hospital in elementary school, participating in girl scout activities creating care packages for breast cancer patients in the area, and at this point, donating my hair twice.

I was still young though, and I didn’t know how my voice could be heard. In middle school my mother’s treatment got more intense, and I became quieter in school. I was focused on doing well in my STEM classes and ensuring my mom’s well-being.

I continued to act the same in high school as I did in middle school, with the COVID-19 pandemic hitting my freshman year. My hair donations had continued, as I made a promise to myself years prior to donate my hair as many times as my mother lost hers. My donation count was at four; my mother, however, was bald for the sixth time.

COVID was a stressful time for my family, taking every possible precaution to keep my mother healthy. Her chemotherapies were coming and going quicker at this point, and her cancer was growing rapidly.

Things were beginning to get back to normal in terms of the pandemic and I stumbled across a 501(c)(3) organization, Cancer Kids First. I was still fairly quiet in school, but this was a turning point. I interviewed with the organization and reached out to my school, and all of a sudden, I was running my very own chapter of the organization. The club grew rapidly, gaining 10% of the student body, just over 150 students, as active members. I decided years prior that I was going to become a pediatric oncologist and here I was, taking my first step toward achieving this goal.

Cancer Kids First at my high school ended up raising thousands of dollars for pediatric cancer within the first year. We delivered holiday gifts to local patients, and I was consistently talking to patients’ families to create personalized care packages. The club was a booming success, and my mother remained my number one supporter, often shopping for the care packages with me and baking cookies for our bake sales. My mom was my biggest motivator to become a pediatric oncologist to begin with, and she was now helping me visualize this as a reality.

I ran the Cancer Kids First chapter until I graduated high school, but the club continues to live on, currently in its fourth year. The year I graduated high school, my brother graduated college, and my sister, law school. My mother made it to all three graduations. That was her ultimate goal.

Following our graduations, she remained as active as she could, but her cancer began dictating her life more than she liked to admit. I came home from my first year at college and saw the toll the disease was taking on her. This June, she lost her battle with breast cancer after nearly 17 years of fighting. She continues to be my motivation in everything.

My mother is the reason I will continue to donate my hair, just one donation away from matching her seven losses. My mother is the reason my family has raised over $43,000 for the Susan G. Komen foundation since she passed this summer. My mother was my motivation to volunteer on the pediatric oncology floor at Hasbro Children’s Hospital this year, and she is my motivation to continue to volunteer.

My mother’s battle with breast cancer has provided me with the purpose of becoming a pediatric oncologist. Through my mother’s battle I have seen the good and the bad of the health care system and the full impact breast cancer has on patients and their families.

With the help of the PinkRose Scholarship I can continue to pursue my undergraduate Biology and Health Policy & Management degree at Providence College. Beyond my undergraduate studies I can continue my education in medical school and ultimately become the pediatric oncologist my mother and her battle inspired me to be.

Breast cancer took my mother from our family much too early, with some of my mother’s last words being that she couldn’t die yet because I “wasn’t grown up enough yet.” Nothing can ever replace what breast cancer took from my family, but there is also no way to replace how breast cancer has allowed me to grow into who I am today and will continue to allow me to grow to be the best human and medical professional I can be.

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