Margot Richters was diagnosed with a rare blood cancer. She learned to appreciate the mundane challenges of mothering teenagers.

Listen

Transcript

My name is Margo Richters. I’m 54 years old. I currently have a diagnosis of myelofibrosis, which is a rare form of blood cancer. 14 years ago, I had colon cancer. I literally went on my 40th birthday to have a colonoscopy and I went back a week later for the results and the doctor said we’re so glad you came in because we found cancer cells.

Early intervention, it worked, and I was cured. Then, things started to go weird. I had always had sort of the hemoglobin of a Sherpa on top of Mount Everest. I was like, really healthy. I rode my bike to work. I was an athlete my whole life. This must be being in my 50s. I’m more tired. I went online and punched in my three primary symptoms and myelofibrosis came up.

I have done a lot of work as a disaster mental health volunteer with the American Red Cross, where you go to natural disasters, went to Katrina and hurricanes and fires. And the hardest thing when you’ve been at a huge disaster is people saying Oh, they lost my clothes at the dry cleaner. Really?

I just saw someone lose their house. And That just stays with me now. Like those little things I go, Oh, I just can’t, I just can’t worry about that. You just get through it because you have to get through it. The biggest advice is do not give up hope because science will continue to work on your behalf and find things that make you happy.

So there were times where I was quite literally in an intensive care unit. And one of my children would call and say, where are my shoes? Or do you think you could figure out where my homework is? I’m like, thank you for calling me. I love this problem. This is so much better than the problem the doctor gave me this morning.

I wouldn’t say that to them. That’s what I’m thinking in my head. I get to feel like a mom right now. So I’m thankful for that. My oldest daughter is 18. When she was like 14, when I got diagnosed and the conversation I had with her was You’re moving into adolescence. Your job as an adolescent is to find me incredibly annoying.

Disagree with me. Have fights with me. You must do that. And don’t feel like, Oh my God, she has cancer. I can’t get mad at her. I can’t be mean. I can’t be rude. You must. Cause then I’ll know things are normal. She has not had a problem being rude to me. She’s done all right with that. But I did feel I should give her permission and let her know that, I wasn’t frail, and I wouldn’t think she didn’t love me, and I always let her know no matter how much we fight, don’t worry about that.

I’m thankful I get to argue with my teenagers, or find their shoes, or, those kind of things make me happy.