The Call That Changed Everything:

My Mother’s Battle with Stage 4 Colon Cancer

By R. Chris  Lytle | A personal story of love, loss, science, and hope

A Familiar Trip with an Unfamiliar Ending

I was in Iowa, visiting the same clinic I’ve been coming to since I was 10 years old—the place where I get my prosthetic eye made. This wasn’t just another medical stop. For years, my mom had always been by my side for these trips, from my very first fitting to most every follow-up.

This time, after finishing my eye, the technicians did something different—they showed me every photo in my file, stretching back over four decades. I saw my younger self through the years, and in each of those memories, my mom was there. I could hear her voice, feel her warmth, remember the little jokes she made to keep me from being nervous.

That’s when I decided to call her.

And that’s when everything changed. Her words ripped through my mental like a tornado.

“Baby, I have stage 4 colon cancer. It’s spread. They say I have six months to live.”

The world went silent. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. I just sat there, staring at the phone. Shock hit first. Then denial. Then a numbness I can’t quite explain.

She told me the doctors offered chemotherapy, said it could possibly extend her life by another two years. But my mom, in her steady and brave voice, said no. “It’s not a cure,” she told me. “I don’t want to spend what time I have left suffering.”

Time Stops, and Priorities Change

I called the VP at my job that same day. I had to get to my mom. Fast.

Just last year, I’d won the top award at work—an all-expenses-paid trip for two to Mexico. I took my mom. We had the time of our lives, relaxing, laughing, and soaking in every moment. Looking back, I am so deeply grateful for that trip. It was a gift I didn’t realize we’d both need to remember so soon.

She had known for over a month before telling me. So, if the doctors are right, I’m already racing against a ticking clock.

I flew out to see her for her birthday and Mother’s Day. With each visit, each phone call, each FaceTime, I’m watching her slowly disappear into something I can’t fight. Something no one can fully fight. Cancer.

Colon Cancer: A Silent Predator

Colon cancer, or colorectal cancer, begins in the large intestine or rectum. It typically starts as small polyps—benign growths—that can, over time, become cancerous. The challenge is that it often doesn’t show symptoms until it has progressed.

Understanding the Stages of Cancer:

• Stage 1: Cancer is localized to the colon lining.
• Stage 2: It’s grown through the wall of the colon.
• Stage 3: It has reached nearby lymph nodes.
• Stage 4: It has spread (metastasized) to other parts of the body—often the liver, lungs, or abdominal lining.

That’s where my mom is. Stage 4. According to the American Cancer Society, the five-year survival rate for stage 4 colon cancer is about 13%. That number feels cruel. Cold. But it’s real.

And it’s why my mom’s decision not to undergo chemotherapy wasn’t just about side effects—it was about quality of life.

Why Colon Cancer Is So Dangerous

One of the hardest things about this disease is that it often grows quietly. Early symptoms—fatigue, weight loss, constipation, mild stomach pain—are easily dismissed. By the time people notice something’s really wrong, the cancer may already be advanced.

For African Americans like my mother, the risks are even greater. Studies show that Black Americans are:

• 20% more likely to be diagnosed with colon cancer
• 40% more likely to die from it

Late detection, systemic healthcare inequalities, and lack of screening are major reasons. Colon cancer doesn’t play fair. And it doesn’t always give you a chance to fight.

Cancer in America: The Hard Numbers

• Estimated diagnoses in 2025: 152,810 people
• Estimated deaths: 53,000+
• Colorectal cancer is the second leading cause of cancer death in the U.S.

Major risk factors include:

• Diet high in red and processed meats
• Low fiber intake
• Sedentary lifestyle
• Obesity
• Smoking and heavy alcohol use
• Inflammatory bowel diseases
• Genetics and family history

We can’t prevent every case. But we can reduce risk, raise awareness, and get screened earlier.

How We Can Protect Ourselves

Here’s what we should all be doing:

• Get screened at 45 or earlier if you have family history
• Eat more fiber from vegetables, fruits, legumes, and whole grains
• Limit red meat and avoid processed meats
• Exercise regularly—even brisk walking helps
• Quit smoking and cut back on alcohol
• Listen to your body—changes in digestion are red flags

Your life might depend on it.

Support for Families Like Ours

Cancer doesn’t only hurt the person who has it. It affects everyone who loves them.

If you’re navigating a diagnosis, or supporting someone who is, here are organizations that can help:

• 🟦 Colorectal Cancer Alliance: Free screenings, emotional support, education
• 🔵 American Cancer Society: Lodging, rides to chemo, caregiver tools
• 🟣 CancerCare: Free counseling, support groups, and grants
• 🔴 Stand Up To Cancer: Funding breakthrough cancer research
• 🟠 Gilda’s Club: A safe space for those affected by cancer to connect and heal

Hope Still Exists: Beating the Odds

Despite the odds, some people do recover—even from stage 4 cancer. Their stories give me strength.

• Chris Wark was diagnosed with stage 3C colon cancer at 26. He declined chemo and focused on nutrition, detox, and faith. He’s been cancer-free for over 15 years. Read his story at ChrisBeatCancer.com.
• Jane McLelland, author of How to Starve Cancer, beat multiple cancers (including stage 4) by repurposing existing drugs and metabolic therapies.
• New advances in immunotherapy and gene-targeted treatments are giving terminal patients new hope, especially when combined with personalized care.

Not every story has a miracle—but not every story ends the way doctors predict either.

The Final Wish: No Suffering

Right now, my mom is still with us. Still smiling. Still laughing, though less than before. Still fighting in her own quiet way.

“She’s thin. She’s tired. But she’s still my mom. Still, the woman who held my hand as I went in for  eye surgery. Still my rock.”

My only wish now is that she doesn’t suffer. That these last weeks or months are filled with love, dignity, and peace. That she knows how deeply she’s loved. That she feels how much she mattered.

Because cancer may take her body, but it will never touch her legacy.

In Honor of My Mom

If you’re reading this, please—get screened. Talk to your doctor. Take care of yourself. And love your people like every day matters.

Because it does.

If you’d like to support colorectal cancer awareness or honor someone battling cancer, consider donating to:
👉 Colorectal Cancer Alliance
👉 Stand Up To Cancer
👉 Or simply share this story to help others catch it early.

💬 Have you or someone you love been touched by cancer? Share your story in the comments below. Let’s support one another.