When Emma Mon dropped off her son for his freshman year at Purdue University last year, she wasn’t worried about how he’d adjust to life at college—or how she’d cope with her oldest away from home. Instead, she was just thankful for the gift of time.
For years, cancer threatened to take that from her. The disease has been an all-too-familiar presence for Mon and her family since she was first diagnosed with breast cancer in 2008 when her son Peter, now 19, was a preschooler, and her daughter, Lexi, now 17, was a toddler.
Mon, who underwent a double mastectomy and chemo, lived cancer-free for 10 years after her initial diagnosis, but in 2018 she learned it had spread, and it’s now in her brain and spine.
“It’s been difficult for all of us,” Mon says of living with metastatic cancer. “Some days are better than others, but I focus on what I can be grateful for rather than ‘woe is me.’ People all have their own difficulties. Mine just happens to be cancer.”
Because the future has been uncertain, Mon, 50, and her husband of 23 years, Bill, have leaned on each other (laughter and “dark humor” help get them through) and they set their sights on shorter-term goals. Chief among those was getting Peter to his first year of college. Mon hopes she’ll be able to do the same for Lexi after she graduates high school next year.
Courtesy Emma Mon
“It feels a little more far-reaching because of the stuff I’m going through,” Mon admits. “But if I get to drop her off, it will be a gift for me.”
Before her Stage IV diagnosis, Mon worked as a corporate executive in human resources, and her job was part of her identity. “I think it’s hard for my kids to watch their mom, who used to travel to London and Paris every other month, now sitting around and being less active,” she says. “But we take one day at a time.”
Her purpose has shifted from work to “making sure the kids are as happy and well-adjusted as they can be.”
And she says they’ve learned valuable lessons from her experience: “They’re more empathetic and sensitive and understanding of others. I see that in how they talk to their friends. I’m in awe seeing how resilient they are.”
Mon and her husband never hid what she was going through from their kids. “We try to be upbeat and honest,” she says. “Setting the tone is important. It’s not that you have to make cancer sound like roses. But I’m an example of how cancer is not a death sentence. And it’s important for kids to see you live your life and continue on.”
Emma Mon and her daughter’s matching “Love Yourz” tattoos, based on a song by J. Cole.
Courtesy Emma Mon
She and Lexi got matching tattoos earlier this year that read “Love Yourz,” based on a song by J. Cole that Mon would listen to in order to remind herself of her priorities.
“When I used to get bad news from scans, I would listen to this song by J. Cole to ground myself again and remind myself what is truly important,” she says. “Life can be a struggle but it’s a struggle for everyone, just differently. It’s one of Lexi’s favorite songs as well, and we decided to get matching tattoos. I would have waited until she turned 18 but no one knows that the future holds so we got it done this July.”
With the future in mind, Mon is carefully following her treatment protocol at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center (“I’m still here because of MSK,” she says of the hospital, based in New York City), which includes IV chemo every three weeks, so she has as many days as possible.
“My kids are my legacy, and I want to enjoy every single moment I can with them,” she says.
