Raising teens and Building Community is Not for the Weak.

According to my psychiatrist, the fact that my son, Briggs (13), still acts like a typical teenager — resisting school, avoiding chores, and showing zero interest in leaving the house unless PS5 comes along — is actually a good thing. It means that even in the chaos of a late-stage cancer diagnosis, his Dad, me, and the entire community of family, friends, and loved ones we lean on have managed to create a space where he feels safe enough to be… himself.

I’ll take the compliment — but honestly, I’d love a little less pushback whenever I suggest doing anything. Unless that “anything” is video games, it’s a full-blown negotiation. It’s typical, it’s concerning — and it drives me up a wall because I get bored easily. Also, I’m not dying, I’m living. So, we live.

That’s why, when I caught WBZ News talking with Harvard Women’s Basketball Coach, Carrie Moore and their Cancer Awareness Night during their game against Princeton, I jumped at the chance. Friday, February 28 — I grabbed tickets for Briggs and me without a second thought.

I didn’t tell him where we were going until we were almost out the door. These days, even a trip to the grocery store is a fight, so I wasn’t expecting an easy ride into the city. Sure enough, the car ride was filled with all the reasons we should just stay home — wanting to hang with Zara (though let’s be real, he’s not the one walking her), and generally not wanting to do anything that isn’t his idea.

I let him vent. I silently judged. And I made a deal: if it was truly awful, we could leave at halftime. The only condition? Once we got there and met up with Mike — a new friend I met through our neurosurgeon, who had just wrapped up radiation treatment — Briggs had to hold it together. This night was not just about us.

The second we stepped inside, I saw it happen — the shift. The first thing that caught his eye? Free jersey giveaway. Instant win. And from the moment the game started, the Harvard women were on fire. The energy, the crowd — it was impossible not to get caught up in it.

Then came the moment that stuck with me the most. At one point, they asked everyone in the crowd to turn on their phone flashlights if they were fighting cancer. Briggs and I lit up my phone (yeah, it took both of us because typically I’m in bed by 8P), and as I looked around at the sea of lights, I could feel it — connection, community, a reminder that none of us are in this alone.

Mike joined us partway through the first quarter, and I was proud — of Briggs, of myself, of the fact that, despite his protests, we were here. Together. And not once did Briggs complain, check out, or ask to leave.

The game was electric, and halftime brought a performance from Prove Them Wrong (PTW) athletes that left the whole arena buzzing. And then, because life has a way of giving you little bonuses when you least expect it, we spotted Governor Maura Healey in the crowd. Not campaigning, not giving speeches — just there, fully present, supporting the players, the cause, and the belief that community and care matter.

The only thing that didn’t go our way? The final score. Harvard didn’t come away with the win — but this cancer-fighting Mumma sure did.

At a time when national news ties my stomach in knots, and I have to be careful how much I consume to protect my health, I’m endlessly grateful for local news, local teams, and everyone on #TeamMA who shows up—even when it’s hard—and chooses connection over isolation, truth over fear, and community over division.

No. Matter. What.

Go Team Go.

My kiddo is wicked smart.