Heartbreak into healing: How a TCOM student’s loss of her mother led her into medicine
Emma Astad remembers every detail of that day, even where the sun was in the sky the moment the phone call came with the heartbreaking news: her mother had been diagnosed with brain cancer.
“That was the day I died in a way,” said Astad. “Who I was before that call came, I would never be the same.”
Her life had been rocked, and her world had been turned upside down. Astad was a student at Southwestern University at the time, and everything had collapsed. She would lose her best friend soon, but it would also ignite a passion. Medicine.
“I would not be doing this if she didn’t pass away, but that’s okay because I’m lucky to have a reason to get me up in the morning.”
This is the remarkable journey of how Emma Astad, now a first-year student at UNT Health Fort Worth’s Texas College of Osteopathic Medicine, has found her purpose, passion and drive for going into medicine.
Time Stopped
It was 2019 and Astad was a few years into her studies at Southwestern, still narrowing down a career path. She had taken a few pre-med classes, but it was her biology professors who motivated her to consider medicine. Her mother, who had been diagnosed with a mild form of Multiple Sclerosis years earlier, had gone in for a routine checkup one day for her symptoms related to MS. It was there that a tumor had been found incidentally, by chance.After a brain biopsy, she was diagnosed with a low-grade glioma, a type of malignant brain tumor originating from glial cells. However, the tumor quickly progressed. A craniotomy and tumor resection confirmed the high-grade diagnosis nobody wanted to hear. It was glioblastoma multiforme.
“I remember the surgeon coming into the room and time stopped immediately,” Astad said. “I’ll never forget what he said, that tumors have no cells that are quite alike and while a vast majority of the cells were low grade, some looked like GBM.”
“My world just fell out at that time,” she said. “You hold onto the little things and find hope wherever you can find it. I held onto the fact that the whole thing wasn’t high grade, and she didn’t really have major complications. You have to find hope to move forward; that’s the only choice that you have. My mom never lost sight of what really matters, she took it all in such a great stride and simultaneously accepted it.”
Glioblastoma is a highly aggressive and deadly type of brain cancer that develops from glial cells in the brain or spinal cord. There is no cure, and treatment focuses on extending survival and improving quality of life.
Astad ended up moving back home, going to school part-time, and even pushing her graduation date back to take care of her mom. Astad also took the responsibility of navigating the labyrinth of the health care system and the daunting treatments that awaited her mother.
Unfortunately, the number of treatment options for those with GBM is very limited; in fact, there are only four drugs that can be used to help (Temozolamide, Carmustine, Lomustine, and Bevacizumab). Astad’s mother began with a chemotherapy and radiation regimen that ultimately added months to her life.
“The disease didn’t change who she was as a person; it did rob her of her ability to formulate thoughts, but her comprehension was still there; it was a slow bodily deterioration,” Astad said.
Meanwhile, Astad continued with her studies as best as she could while walking with her mother through all of the treatments and being her advocate. Her mother wanted Emma to continue her studies and finish her degree, regardless of her situation.
It was 2021, and on Christmas Eve, Emma Astad received her diploma in the mail. A degree in biology. It was also the same day her mother was sent home from the hospital to begin hospice care. The treatments were no longer working.
She passed away a few days later.
“I think she hung on for so long to see me finish,” said Astad. “She wanted me to finish, I had to finish, and she had to see me graduate.”
A time to recover
Astad had graduated, but was in no shape to continue with school, much less medical school, or much of anything after suffering the loss of her mother. “I had to recover; there was no way I could entertain going into academics again,” she said.
Astad admitted she was struggling and needed a change. She moved overseas to Spain for a year, did some teaching, was a swim coach, photographer, and traveled for nearly 18 months to reset her life. She came back to the United States in August of 2023, ready to work. She got a job with Dell Children’s, working in a pediatric neurology clinic.
“I loved working with children my whole life, and I had a chance to teach children overseas,” Astad said. “I still had my mom in the corner of my mind, but I had to learn how to be a 20-year-old again.”
Astad was able to shadow physicians, nurses, and see the collaboration and team environment that came with health care, what to look for and how to mentor others. She was a part of the team.
“I would see families going through this same thing with their kids. It’s so hard because you’ll never fully understand someone’s situation, even if you’ve gone through something similar yourself. These are life-changing diagnoses.”
She was back on her feet, and Astad was ready for medical school. She applied in June of 2024 and was accepted to TCOM in November of 2024. She was ready to honor her mother…except another life-changing diagnosis was coming.
Not Done Yet
Astad’s first day of medical school orientation wasn’t how she imagined; it wasn’t scurrying around meeting new faces, learning new names, and hearing about the curriculum. It was spent at her father’s bedside in the hospital. Two weeks earlier, he had been diagnosed with prostate cancer, and he was having surgery. The hospital, the recovery room, the fluorescent lights, even the smell of the hospital. It was déjà vu all over again.
“I thought, ‘you have to be kidding me, here we go again,’ Astad said. “He was diagnosed in May of 2025, so the timing was horrible to put it lightly, but this wasn’t my first rodeo. I hated the feeling of being in a hospital room with a parent again, but sometimes you have to take off against the wind, to appreciate the tailwind when you catch it.”
“I felt like I was just finding my footing, then this bomb goes off. I have to remind myself, you are no stranger to this, you will get through it, Dad will get through it, so don’t just wallow, looking for pity. My dad needed me because everyone needs an advocate.”
His surgery was successful, and for now, they wait. Astad went straight from his surgery in Austin to the rest of the orientation in Fort Worth. It’s another lesson for Astad to carry forward into her future practice with patients she can relate to. She wants to not just be a physician to care for patients, she wants to be an advocate for change within the system itself.
“Navigating this healthcare system is a hot mess, and I would love to help fix that in some capacity,” Astad said.
Emma laughs just a bit when she looks back at the journey it took to get into medical school, but it’s a reminder of her motivation. On her desk, she keeps her mom’s old work nameplate and a photo of her father so she never loses sight of her “why” on this journey.
“I want to honor her,” Astad said. “She was my best friend, and I don’t want people to remember her for what her disease was, but for who she was. She stood up for what’s right, and that’s what I want to do, and I hope I can do that.”
Astad has a long road ahead, as does her father. She’s already pondered a few specialties that she might pursue, neurology being number one on the list after experiencing those emotionally charged moments herself, and how she wants to be there for those patients in their darkest hours, knowing the difficulty of the moment.
“I really hope patients, families, and caregivers are able to confide in me,” Astad said. “I’m a very meaning-driven person, and I like to have purpose in everything that I want to do, and medicine is going to allow me to do that every single day. That’s a life worth living.”
No doubt something her late mother would echo, as Emma carries her legacy forward in her honor.
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