“We shouldn’t let ourselves be defeated. My dad always told me that from the moment we are born, we are dying.”
“Are you going to give up? That’s not what you taught us. You taught us to be strong, not to give up. But if that’s what you want, okay, I respect your decision, that’s how I’ll remember you, as someone who gave up,” her daughter Samantha said.
Liliana Sedano had just informed Samantha that she didn’t want chemotherapy anymore. Moments before, her doctor had told her she had intestinal cancer, the fourth diagnosis in around 20 years, and she felt tired, perhaps, fed up.
Liliana had fought for the first time at the age of 32 when she was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, a very aggressive type of cancer. She fought and, against all odds, managed to put it in remission, to recover. She fought it again five years later when uterine cancer was diagnosed, and just as she was about to be operated on, they told her they had found another cancer in her breasts. She dealt with the second one and then the first one, she wouldn’t give up. Later, while she was in recovery, she suffered a stroke that left her immobilized on her left side, in a wheelchair, and with a dependence she hadn’t experienced before. Once again, she didn’t give up, she clung on, fought, and, to her doctor’s disbelief, managed to recover again.
So, hearing the doctor tell her that they had now detected intestinal cancer, she didn’t know how to react.
“Really?” she asked herself. “After so many battles, now they tell me this,” she thought. “I didn’t feel defeated, I wasn’t angry, I just felt tired. It was a story that kept repeating and refused to die.”
She listened to her daughter, and those words made her react. She would fight as she had done all her life; she wouldn’t give up. She would undergo the treatment recommended by the doctor.
“I wanted to make them (her daughters) as strong as possible; I told myself that if they were going to be alone, they had to be strong,” she adds.
Liliana Sedano is a dedicated professional in the field of Human Resources. In her job for many years, she loves finding and giving people, young and old, without distinction, an opportunity. She believes that people should have a chance in life and fight for their ideals and dreams.
She has experienced it all her life.
Born in Guadalajara, Mexico, she grew up in Los Angeles. Her parents are Mexicans; her father was born in Tepatitlán and her mother in Guadalajara.
“We have many beautiful stories in our family. Imagine!” she says, enjoying this memory. “My grandmother lived in Guadalajara, a very Catholic, very religious family. And then, they decided to send her to Texas with the nuns. My grandfather met her there and started courting her. And then the news reached Guadalajara, and they sent for her. They had sent her with the nuns, and she met my grandfather. It was tremendous! Of course, he followed her to Guadalajara; he had received a letter from my grandmother’s parents telling him that if the relationship was serious, he should go to Guadalajara and get a job, that’s how they would take him seriously,” she says, laughing.
When Liliana speaks, one might expect a broken voice, tears, pessimism. It’s quite the opposite. Despite talking over the phone, an energy that exudes peace, tranquility, hope, and great strength can be perceived.
“We are a very close-knit, hardworking family. My parents knew they had to work to give us an education, a good life,” she says.
“Sometimes we have gatherings with all my relatives in Mexico and here on Zoom. On one occasion, everyone shaved their heads to support me; the people close to me did too. All of that is a reason to keep fighting,” she adds.
“I always attended private, religious schools, but I have always been very friendly; I loved going out to play with my friends. We had fun all afternoon, and in the evening, we would go inside the house, breathe a lot of tranquility and peace,” she says.
Years later, her father gave her her first motorcycle, a Ninja.
“Imagine, me, covered from head to toe in my Catholic uniform and with my motorcycle. I liked motorcycles, the feeling of freedom, power, solitude,” she adds.
As a child and teenager, the thought of becoming a flight attendant or a lawyer crossed her mind; she doesn’t know where that idea came from. However, after studying Law at UC-Long Beach, she fell in love with the profession of Human Resources.
“I didn’t have the freedom to live a typical college life. I was already married and had a daughter named Vanessa. With Frank, my husband, I had to plan our lives and schedules very well. We took turns taking care of our daughter,” says Liliana.
During those years, they dreamed of what many people aspire to: a comfortable life, money, some luxuries, and properties. They worked hard, bought their first house when she was 19 years old.
Everything seemed to be on the right track; they couldn’t have imagined the course their lives would take in the following years.
“At 32, I was diagnosed with cancer for the first time. Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. I was given six months to live. Of course, I didn’t expect it; cancer doesn’t cause any pain in its early stages, you don’t feel it. Frank discovered a lump in my armpit, and when they did the tests, they gave me the news. We talked about what we would do in those six months. My husband told me he would quit his job; if I would live six more months, he wanted to be with me all the time. We planned a party to tell our family and friends what was happening. I didn’t want drama; I wanted to celebrate it and live that time fully,” she adds.
One month passed, nothing. Two months, nothing. Frank and Liliana led a somewhat normal life. They woke up, took their daughters to school, had coffee, talked. Three months, nothing. Four, five, and six months, and nothing. She didn’t die, as Liliana puts it. Seven, eight, nine months passed, and they reached a year. Nothing happened; cancer had gone into remission. She had survived.
And one day Liliana said to Frank, “Darn, I didn’t die, our savings are gone; we need to find a job because you won’t get life insurance money,” she says, laughing. “Both Frank and I have a very dark sense of humor.”
Despite the fatalistic diagnoses, Liliana never thought about death.
“I felt it wasn’t my time, it wasn’t my turn; maybe that’s why I didn’t get anxious,” she says.
“I was given six months to live. Of course, Frank discovered a lump in my armpit, and when they did the tests, they gave me the news. We talked about what we would do in those six months. My husband told me he would quit his job; if I would live six more months, he wanted to be with me all the time.”
Months later, she received a second and a third surprise. First, she was diagnosed with uterine cancer, and when she started her treatment and was ready to be operated on, they diagnosed another breast cancer. They had to treat the latter and then the former.
“I was pensive. I told myself this was happening to me because I hadn’t learned my lesson. I hadn’t learned what I should have from that first experience or from the opportunities that came my way,” she comments.
“We had recovered our savings, and now this. But now there was no way we could stop working. So, Frank didn’t quit his job, and I went back and forth,” she says. “I had to make a decision. I wasn’t at 100%, but I had to do it; staying at home was worse.”
During that time, she focused on her daughters.
“I wanted to make them as strong as possible; I told myself that if they were going to be alone, they had to be strong,” she adds.
During one of her treatments, one of her nurses shared something invaluable with her; she taught her how to meditate. Later, she embraced Buddhism and yoga.
“I focused a lot on myself. Understanding myself, understanding what was happening. My parents practiced Tai-Chi, martial arts. That has some spirituality. This helped me a lot. Sometimes sadness would come, but not anger; I have never felt angry,” she says.
After a period of struggle, another event arrived that put her to the test once again.
“I had a stroke. I thought I had survived again, but one day my husband got scared seeing me. He told me we had to go to the hospital; my face looked like it was melting. My doctor scheduled me for urgent care, and right there, I collapsed. They brought me into the emergency room, and a priest came out a few moments later and told my husband he was sorry, that I hadn’t survived. I was dead for a few minutes. They resuscitated me, and the doctor told me I wouldn’t walk normally again; my left side was paralyzed, and I would also struggle to speak,” she says.
It was a hard blow. Cancer takes everything away, but this stroke left her dependent; she couldn’t do many things for herself.
It took almost three years to recover; she spent a long time in a wheelchair, but finally, she could walk again with the help of a cane. Once again, she had defied all odds.
And then, that fourth diagnosis came. She now had intestinal cancer. It was in those moments that she felt tired.
“I said to myself, ‘oh no, again? I never played the victim, asking, ‘why me?’. That would have been very unfair. When I went to the hospital for treatment, I saw all those children with cancer; that seemed terrible to me,” she reflects.
Her doctor once again prescribed a treatment, she knew it was unlikely that she would follow it completely. This time it was more serious and uncomfortable; it was stage 4 intestinal cancer. She couldn’t move around as she wanted, being in bed, with medical equipment, depending on others.
“It was the solidarity of my family, my friends, my circle, that has sustained me. I have never asked myself why I keep fighting. These people around me explain everything.”
“I even said to myself, ‘darn, I would have preferred the other one’,” and she laughs.
“It was the solidarity of my family, my friends, my circle, that has sustained me. I have never asked myself why I keep fighting. These people around me explain everything. When I wake up, and negative thoughts come to me, I meditate, focus on thoughts of healing, block out everything that doesn’t nourish me and reinforce what makes me feel good,” she says.
“Sometimes we have gatherings with all my relatives in Mexico and here on Zoom. On one occasion, everyone shaved their heads to support me; the people close to me did too. All of that is a reason to keep fighting,” she adds.
Liliana is in good shape at the moment. She has had cancer in remission for a little over two years.
“Right now, I’m focused on enjoying. I have a bucket list. We just went to Machu Picchu; I had that dream, to climb it. After being in a wheelchair, I was able to climb the three highest mountains there,” she says proudly.
For Liliana, cancer doesn’t control her life; she takes it on and assumes control and leadership of her condition.
“Even now, I say cancer visits me all the time; it’s like that uncle you don’t want around but keeps showing up. You say, ‘no problem, come, but don’t visit me too soon. We shouldn’t let ourselves be defeated. My dad always told me that from the moment we are born, we are dying; Buddhism has helped me a lot in this process,” she says.
Latina women account for 29 percent of the 24,000 new breast cancer cases diagnosed each year
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