Every person is special. Every patient is unique.

Μy name is Cynthia Mikkelsen. In February 2022, I lost my beloved mother Anna to lung cancer. 

Truth is, it all happened so very quickly. My mother passed away within a month and a half of her diagnosis.

I always thought cancer in the elderly progresses slowly and thus I would have time with her. I was WRONG.

I also believed that cancer gives early signs and warns early on.  Here too, I was WRONG.

My mom was an educated, active person, full of life and dreams until she began to suddenly lose strength in early December 2021. I know she always was afraid of medical tests because she had been a smoker for over 40 years and felt guilty about it.

She knew she was being criticized, even though this habit was first and foremost harming herself.

She carried within her the stigma of smoking. If she hadn’t felt the stigma, she would have been checked earlier, possibly diagnosed in time and have more treatment options. In addition to the stigma of smoking, I also felt the age stigma, often found around us, which is yet one more factor that prevents people from getting screened.

My mother was not young but she was my mum. 

She was not just another number, not just another patient.

I have come to understand that the stigma surrounding lung cancer marginalizes the patient.

The stigma is shutting doors.

The door to screening.

The door to early diagnosis.

The door to equal treatment and care.

These doors must be open. We owe it to the next patients. But also to our beloved who left us.