Stacy Hurt is the Toughest Person I Know

Stacy Hurt has always been the toughest person she knew. She grew up as the younger sister in a middle-class, blue-collar household wearing her brother’s hand-me-down jeans from Sears. She was constantly active, graduating high school as a star athlete in volleyball and basketball, and continued to stay in good shape throughout her 20’s, 30’s, and 40’s by working out regularly and eating healthy. Her physical health became even more vital when her younger son was diagnosed with a rare genetic condition that rendered him intellectually and developmentally disabled. Emmett, who cannot walk, talk, or function for himself in any way, requires around-the-clock care. “If I go down, the whole ship goes down,” Stacy says when speaking about her role in the home as a full-time caregiver. “I have to lift Emmett out of bed in the morning and several more times a day, feed him, diaper him, perform his ambulation therapy, and administer his medications. He is totally dependent on me and our family for his life.” In taking care of Emmett, Stacy demonstrates not just physical strength, but mental and emotional strength as well. Her work experience as a healthcare executive helps her in advocating for Emmett’s needs and fearlessly taking on insurance companies to fight for his nursing care and equipment.?I have witnessed Stacy’s conviction, resilience, and fierceness first-hand. She is my mom.

I thought our family had already seen our share of bad luck, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. Nothing could’ve prepared us for what happened in 2014. I was just shy of 10 years old when my mom was diagnosed with stage IV colorectal cancer. It started with a tumor in her rectum so large that the doctor couldn’t get the scope around it to see the rest of her colon. When Stacy heard the dreaded words “You have cancer,” her response was, “Cancer? How does that even happen?” — she was doing everything right. A subsequent PET scan revealed that the cancer had spread across 27 places in her body: from her rectum to her lungs, liver, and lymph nodes. We received the diagnosis on her 44th birthday: September 17th, 2014. Stacy says that her doctor refused to answer when she asked about her chances of survival. He just said “A lot of this depends on you and how you respond to treatment.” When the UPMC Hillman Cancer Center oncologist relayed that grim prognosis, she refused to accept it. “Well, if this depends on me, then I’m telling you, that I’m going to kick its ass.” She told me the devastating news right away. I remember sitting in our family room on the couch as she told me, my eyes filling with tears as I listened. I had heard about cancer, and I was the most scared I ever had been. I couldn’t imagine Emmett and I growing up without our mother. I asked her “Mom, are you going to die?” She held my hand with gentle confidence and said “You just got those braces on your teeth, right? By the time you get them off, I will have beaten cancer.” She tells me now that she wasn’t at all sure about that, but that she had to believe it to beat it. We really needed her, my brother especially. My mom made me go to school the next day to “keep things as normal as possible.” Meanwhile, I was scared, confused, and angry. I tried to take a test, but my mom’s condition was the only thing on my mind, so I burst into tears. I’ll never forget my English teacher, Mr. Laughton, recognizing my angst and taking me out of class to comfort me. I had no way of knowing that his own father was battling cancer concurrently. His actions showed empathy and compassion that I’ll never forget.

My mom was very sick. She went to chemotherapy 55 times in total, sometimes coming home with a pump that filled her with medicine for 48 hours afterwards. She would lay on the couch, and I would cover her with a blanket to comfort her: “I’m wrapping you up like a taco like you did for me when I was little,” I said. It was a rough few years. My grandparents practically moved in with us. People were constantly bringing food. Even though my mom cried a lot, she never lost her drive or, equally as important, her sense of humor. I thought she was crying from the pain, and despite the nausea, fatigue, and neuropathy, she said she mostly cried because she couldn’t take care of Emmett and me the way she wanted to. But even with her pump on and poison running through her veins, she coached my youth volleyball team, running drills and encouraging my teammates. No one could have ever known how sick she was. She would take extra time to rest during treatment weeks, but she always kept moving. Whether it was walking on the treadmill or out on our street, lifting hand weights, or doing floor exercises, she certainly didn’t lay around feeling sorry for herself. She tells me that she never thought of herself as a “cancer patient,” just as “Stacy:” mom, wife, coach, and friend. Cancer was just something she had to deal with. A month after her diagnosis, our family went to see Fleetwood Mac in concert together. It was important to my mom to keep living life to its fullest and not let her illness define her or confine her.?

During my mom’s surgery in April 2015, the surgeon nicked a blood vessel, which caused my mom to suffer internal bleeding. She went into cardiac arrest and almost died. They rushed her into a second emergency surgery to save her life, and after two blood transfusions, she woke up in the ICU. The oncologist told us that anyone else would’ve died. My mom said that as they rushed her to the second surgery, she only remembers my Dad and the surgeon running alongside her, holding her hands. Stacy said she had mine and my brother’s faces firmly ingrained in her mind and that she knew that, no matter what, she had to survive for us. She recounts “I didn’t push back 27 tumors to bleed out on a cart. No way. I wasn’t going out like that.”

After she recovered and they shifted her from “active” treatment to “maintenance” treatment, Stacy wanted to start helping and giving back to those affected by cancer. She volunteered across 9 different cancer organizations and has become a patient advocate for people all over the world. When I was in middle school, she spoke to our Lion’s Heart Club about the importance of not being afraid to talk about any part of your body when you feel something isn’t right. She also spoke at a local commissioners’ planning meeting about colon cancer awareness and volunteered with our local police department in support of their “No Shave November” campaign to raise money for cancer research. My mom also served on our school district’s COVID Health and Safety committee to safely return to school post shutdown. Stacy has never taken a dime from the thousands of cancer patients she’s helped, and I’ve never heard her say no helping anyone.

When my mom was going through treatment, she invented several acronyms to help herself that are now part of her speaking campaigns. As a Catholic who credits faith in part for her successful response to treatment, Stacy made the same prayer each night, from diagnosis continuing to this day. She invented it herself and calls it TAPP: Thank, Ask, Pray, Praise. She starts by thanking God for good things that happened during the day, asks to be completely healed from cancer, prays for someone in need, and praises God’s name. She summarizes her plan to beat cancer as ANTSY: Attitude, Nutrition, Treatment, Support, and YOU. Her plan focuses on the power of keeping a positive attitude, nourishing your body and mind, trusting science, leaning on a good support system, and believing in yourself.

Today, my mom is six years cancer free. Doctors call her case a miracle, or in clinical terms, she is an “exceptional responder.” There is no explanation as to why my young, healthy mother got advanced stage colorectal cancer and equally no explanation as to how she survived it. Because of the extraordinary circumstances of her recovery, Stacy feels her calling is to serve those affected by cancer and represent those who don’t feel heard in the healthcare system. I couldn’t ask for a better time to tell her story than during colon cancer awareness month, March. “When I was diagnosed, I set two milestones for myself: to hit 50 and see you graduate high school. I hit the first one with overwhelming emotion, and now I’m looking forward to the other one filled with more pride, joy, and gratitude than I can put into words.” Stacy’s advice to those facing cancer is simple: “Figure out who and what you are fighting for and let that carry you above any pain or suffering to achieve the unimaginable.” My mom doesn’t sweat the small stuff and doesn’t hesitate to stand up for what is right. ?I strive every day to model her heroic selflessness.?Stacy Hurt is the toughest person I know.