Hello, and thank you for stopping by. My name is Ray; I am Sany’s son.
After multiple years of fighting lung cancer and 17 days in the ICU, my mom is now able to rest. She went peacefully, at about 3:50 am (ICT) on 5/28/25, in her home country of Cambodia, surrounded by her loved ones.
My mother’s story is truly an inspiring one, a story of great strength, stubborn perseverance, emotional turmoil, financial hardship, and incredible selflessness. Some of you may have crossed paths with my mom, but if you had not been able to, please allow me to introduce her to you and briefly tell her story:
My mother was initially diagnosed with stage IIIb non-small cell lung cancer of the upper lobe of the right lung in 2014. After aggressive chemotherapy and radiation therapy at Saint Vincent’s Hospital, the cancer appeared to be in remission. Fast forward to March 2024, my mom receives a new diagnosis of stage IIIb non-small cell lung cancer, this time more prominent in the upper lobe of the left lung. She was too skinny/undernourished for any surgical options, and radiation was not an option due to the residual scarring from the last treatment, so our only option was to be treated with IV pembrolizumab chemotherapy, which seemed to be effective in keeping the cancer from progressing. She was being cared for wonderfully at UMass Memorial Medical Center (chemotherapy infusion on cover image).
My mother did not let the cancer define her. She continued to live her life happily for over 11 years since her initial diagnosis.
My mom was born on October 10th, 1962.
She was a child of immeasurable trauma, a child of genocide and civil war. Her formative years from the ages of 12-17 were spent in the era of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge; she witnessed mass killings/torture by the thousands each day. Having been just 12 years old when the genocide began, she tried to forget those years, but the trauma remained even in later life; those experiences still haunted her. She once told me a story of how she was forced by a Khmer Rouge soldier to dig her own grave to bury herself alive because she ate a small amount of rice that she harvested. After digging for a couple of hours in the scorching sun, she was rescued by a local nurse who snuck her away from the soldier. She stubbornly endured all the pain and suffering, all those years of sleeping in a small windowless straw hut, eating and sleeping on the wooden floor, and playing on the dirt roads when allowed. She endured distressing years of civil unrest and hardship, a regime under dictatorship, until 1983, when she was able to move to the United States for a better life.
She was so strong. She possessed an unrelenting selflessness marked by kindness, softness, and loyalty unlike any other. After fleeing Cambodia on a sponsored Visa from a church in the USA, away from war, she was forced to adapt and start life anew. My mom graciously accepted charitable donations from the church and always gave back every chance she could. Because she was forced to farm and grow crops since the age of 12, her grade school education was stripped from her at an early age. She was limited in opportunity, but that did not stop my mother; she was extremely bright and always managed to keep food on the table and a roof over her children’s heads. She always made sure my brother and I had gifts for our birthdays and Christmas, too. She learned English informally and made a living working various jobs across the US. She was a waitress in Southern California for a few years but moved to Connecticut/Massachusetts to care for her aging mother, my grandmother.
She applied herself to sewing/stitching and was a skilled seamstress. She worked at Sealy and eventually David Clark Co., a factory “where they make astronaut suits for NASA,” as she liked to say. She was so proud of her work. She was also adored by her coworkers and colleagues. Every time I visited her workplace, I was reminded by her coworkers how beloved she was and how proud she was of her children. My mother was the kindest and sweetest soul. She was nonjudgmental and easy-going. She continued to work at David Clark Co. for almost 30 years and retired recently in 2024.
My mom was not eating very much and had been feeling quite lonely and depressed in her retirement. She had asked to visit Cambodia with me, to show me my roots, and also to visit her other son, Rattana, and her grandchildren. This trip was essentially her dying wish, and with her being under palliative care, we agreed on planning the trip to Cambodia. We understood the risks involved in flying to a less developed country with her condition, it seemed like a positive choice mainly because the cancer looked like it was well controlled on the pembrolizumab, particularly on the most recent chest CT scan.
We arrived in Cambodia on April 26th, and she looked the happiest she had looked in a long time. She was ecstatic to be in her home country. However, within just a couple weeks of staying in Cambodia, I think because of the sanitary conditions of the country as a whole, she got sick. She had to be rushed to the emergency room and required emergency CPR. She fought long and hard for 17 days straight in the ICU at Calmette Hospital, the best hospital in Cambodia for her case. For the sake of transparency and clarity, the hospital stay cost was $400-$900 USD per night, paid daily, depending on the services and medications provided. We spent ~$10,000 USD total to keep her in the ICU, and we were limited to only seeing her 30 minutes a day, twice a day. My brother and I were there every single day; things were looking like they were improving, as if she would soon be able to go to a regular room, until one night, yesterday at 6pm, news broke to us that her right lung had collapsed and she would not have much time to live. My brother and I were stunned. She seemingly went from borderline out of the hospital to borderline dead in seemingly a day. We made a decision to bring her home with a ventilator, oxygen, all the attached IV medications, and an overseeing doctor at the house to allow her to see her family and grandchildren while she still had some time. She fought hard from 10pm until about 3:50am when she went peacefully with her family and loved ones by her side.
Keeping with the theme of transparency, Funeral arrangements have begun here in Cambodia, and we expect the cost to be $15,000-$20,000 for a proper 7-day Buddhist send-off.
If you know my mother or me, we are not the type of people to ask for much. However, the hospital stay and funeral arrangements have put a tremendous strain financially on our family. With the numerous requests in hopes of paying respect to my mom (especially in Buddhist culture), I started this fund.
If you’ve known my mother or me, and we have had a positive impact on your life, or if my mother’s story has touched you, please consider sharing this post and/or making a donation. A little goes a long way—it means a lot. Thank you.