*Disclaimer: The names and places in this article have been changed to protect the identity of Mary’s* daughter.
Introduction
There are some battles in life you never expect to fight. And then there are the ones you refuse to stop fighting, no matter how exhausted, how heartbroken, or how alone you feel. This is the story of Mary Witman*—a warrior mother who fought relentlessly to save her daughter from a rare childhood cancer. Battling with a failing medical system, misdiagnoses, and gut-wrenching trauma. For six long years, she fought for her daughter when no one else would listen. And when she was told “no,” she pushed harder. When she was dismissed, she became louder. When they tried to label her child, she refused to let that label stick.
This story isn’t just about the medical trauma that rocked their lives or the rare cancer diagnosis that took six agonizing years to uncover. It’s about perseverance. About listening to your intuition when every expert tells you otherwise. It’s about the life-saving power of support and the truth that medical trauma doesn’t just happen to you—it can impact the ones who love and care for you.
This is Mary*’s story—in her own words, it’s raw, powerful, and inspiring. Trauma shouldn’t be sugarcoated, but neither should the courage to overcome it.
When Doctors Don’t Listen
“It took six years to get her diagnosed. I took her back and forth to the hospital. They told me she had gas pain. They told me she had anxiety. A chest infection. Depression. Bipolar. Psychotic. They gave her antidepressants and antipsychotics.”
Every trip to the hospital ended in another misdiagnosis. Another label. Another prescription.
“She tried to kill herself three times. They once made us drive five hours in a snowstorm, only to tell us there were no beds and sent us back to our hometown.”
Through all of it, Mary* stayed in the ring. Bloodied, but never backing down. One day, it was a kid at school—not a doctor—who noticed something was wrong.
“A kid at school noticed a lymph node on her neck was swollen. We were lucky enough to get a doctor’s appointment. A resident ordered a chest x-ray for fun—and they found the tumour.”
And just like that, everything shifted.
Rare Childhood Cancer Discovery
The tumour was massive—12.7 cm—and dangerously close to her daughter’s heart.
“They told us we’d see a thoracic surgeon within a week. But the next day, they us to get to our local hospital for an ambulance to the main facility in the city. There were no ambulances. I drove five hours. Again.”
Arriving at the hospital, her daughter underwent a biopsy that Mary describes as pure hell.
“They took 13 samples. It was overkill. Finally, the doctors said they couldn’t medicate her properly because they were afraid her muscles would relax and the tumour would press on her heart. She was in pain for seven days. It was one of the most heartbreaking things to watch.”
Afterwards, a specialist site in the U.S. later confirmed the number of samples was excessive. But by then, the damage—emotional and physical—was already done.
Surgery, Advocacy, and Rare Childhood Cancer
“I had done the research. Any tumour over 5 cm should be removed through the sternum. Hers was more than double that.”
The family advocated—loudly—for the sternotomy approach. But the surgeon overrode their wishes.
“He went through the ribs. The tumour broke apart. There was a tumour spill.”
Mary’s daughter was diagnosed with Thymoma, a rare cancer rarely seen in children. She also tested positive for Check2, a mutated gene that increases her risk for certain cancers. Mary would later find out she carries the same mutation.
“The odds were stacked against her from the beginning. And so many mistakes were made.”
A Lifeline Against Rare Childhood Cancer
At her lowest, Mary’s daughter was quietly planning her own exit. Until a birthday party. A boy named Mark*. A flicker of hope.
“She met Mark. They started dating. Even though she was in so much pain from the tumour, she stayed alive because of him.”
“She told me he saved her life twice. Once before the surgery—she had planned to kill herself. And again when we told him he had to go home because it was too crowded in the hospital. She said he was the reason she was doing the surgery and taking the meds.”
Mark didn’t just offer emotional support—he became her lifeline.
“He gave up his summer job. Slept on a crappy cushion on the hospital floor. Rubbed her back. Cleaned up her throw-up. Let me sleep. He was only 15. He was amazing.”
A Mother’s Fight Continues…
In December 2024, her daughter’s full-body MRI came back clear. The rare childhood cancer was gone. Whereas the trauma was very much still present.
“I was hospitalised in January 2025 after a mental breakdown. I was suicidal. I’m starting PTSD and depression counselling this week.”
The legal system brought no justice.
“I just got letters from the lawyers. They said we’d only win $100,000 and it wasn’t worth their time.”
“But I feel like I fought as hard as I could. My daughter is proud of me. And nobody in my family will be neglected by the medical system ever again. As long as I’m here.”
Mary now faces her own battle. She, too, carries the Check2 mutation, putting her at high risk of developing breast cancer.
“I have a consult in May for a double mastectomy. I just want it over with.”
Regardless of her own pain, she’s still showing up for her daughter—and herself.
“It’s just me and my teenage daughter right now. But I’m still gonna get up tomorrow, drive her to school, take the dog for a walk. That’s a big step for me.”
The Power of Sharing Your Story
Medical trauma doesn’t just belong to the patient. It ripples out—touching those closest, and especially parents. Medical PTSD is real, even when you have a good outcome. Don’t let your shame or guilt about not being ok, stop you from speaking out. Yes, lots of people have surgery and are fine, but for those who aren’t they’re trauma is valid and deserves to be recognized.
“Just having someone to talk to who understands is everything. And sharing my story? It feels really good.”
There is healing in being heard. There is strength in speaking up. Lynn’s journey shows that advocating for your loved one can save their life—but sharing your story just might save yours.
You Are Not Alone
If you’ve lived through something like this—share it. Speak it. Let it out.
Because someone out there needs to know that their pain is real. That they’re not dramatic. That they’re not broken.
And that it’s never too late to fight. Or heal.
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If you wish to remain anonymous but still tell your story, that’s totally ok. 🩷
