by Hannah Rice Myers

Created on: November 26, 2011   Last Updated: November 27, 2011

I watched her take her last breath. I thought I was ready for this moment, but I was so very wrong. For 61 years, my mother was my best friend, my rock, the other half of my heart. And now, as I sat next to her praying for God to end her suffering, I became hysterical when He chose the moment to answer my prayer.

For five years my mother bravely battled cancer. It began with cervical cancer in 2006. Her hysterectomy, chemotherapy and radiation treatments began in January of 2007. She remained in remission for two years, leaving us hopeful the cancer would not return. This would not be the case; in 2009 she noticed a rash on her breasts and stomach. The doctor diagnosed her with inflammatory breast cancer, the most rare and aggressive form of breast cancer a woman can be inflicted with. Although she would never know remission again, her oncologist was optimistic, reassuring my mom of his ability to manage and control her new diagnosis.

My mother remained positive as well, her faith in Jesus carrying her through. She no sooner completed one round of chemotherapy, when the next month a new round began. The breast cancer continued to make its presence known in the form of skin cancer, but never spread to her major organs such as her liver, bones or brain. For this we were grateful.

As if her battle with cancer wasn't enough, the summer of 2010 brought a major heart attack. Mom's cardiologist discovered five blockages; 90 percent, 80 percent, two arteries suffering a 70 percent blockage and the last, 50 percent. For most people, bypass surgery is the answer. This was not so for mom, who at the time, was undergoing yet another round of skin cancer. An incision through the cancer lesion would cause her cancer to spread. The only answer was blood thinners and blood pressure medication.

As the year progressed, mom was finding it more difficult to walk. Her legs were constantly swollen from lymphodema, a condition resulting from the removal of her lymph nodes during her hysterectomy. This increased the amount of fluid in her legs, causing her to fall frequently. The most difficult part of all for me was the distance between my best friend and me. Mom lived in New York while I in North Carolina. We always spoke of her coming to live with me so I could take care of her. She wanted to spend her last days with me, my husband and our three kids, her babies as she called them. This never came to fruition.

In January of 2011 I received a call from my aunt, telling me mom was

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