Writing a column for a student newspaper like The Daily Collegian is an honor, but it's sometimes difficult to come up with a topic to write about each week. I started the semester with so many ideas I wanted to put down on paper -- many of which I was able to. But there has been one topic I have put off for various reasons -- my mom. Because this is my last column for the semester, and because of some recent events, I think the time has come.

A week from today, my mom will undergo a bilateral double mastectomy -- essentially the removal of both her breasts -- as her latest treatment for inflammatory breast cancer, which she was diagnosed with more than two years ago. I plan on sitting in the waiting room of the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania as she goes through the eight-hour surgery, because it's clear family is the most important thing any of us have - more important than any other obligation, even if that obligation is school.

When my mom was diagnosed with inflammatory breast cancer in 2005, it was shocking. At that time none of us were aware there were even different forms of breast cancer. We have since come to find out many people, including doctors, are still unaware. But perhaps the most shocking thing was learning the cancer which had started in my mom's breast had metastasized, or spread, to her breastbone and hip. At the time it was thought surgery wouldn't be an option, and instead she would be left to manage the disease for the rest of her life with a cocktail of drugs and chemotherapy.

In the two years since my mom's diagnosis, she has undergone chemotherapy which wore her down physically and caused her to lose her hair. She took daily rounds of pills, which gave her headaches and nausea and caused her toenails to fall off. But, she's surviving. The regular scans showed the cancer had stopped growing and at times even began to shrink. And to meet her on the street, you would be hard-pressed to guess anything was wrong. Even during the chemotherapy treatments, she covered her hair-loss with a very realistic-looking wig.

But doctors have recently discovered the drugs are no longer treating the cancer in her breast and have now opted for a mastectomy.

Although I am by no means an expert, I think it is especially important for women reading this column to become aware of this form of the disease because it often affects women at a much younger age than other forms of breast cancer. However, unlike other forms of the disease, inflammatory breast cancer is not always detectable in what most women have been taught as the usual screening methods. Often, there is no detectable lump in the breast, meaning mammograms and self exams are often ineffective.

IBC often causes a significant change in the appearance of a woman's breast: A breast that is warmer than usual to the touch, a flat or inverted nipple, skin on the underside of the breast that is dimpled or resembles an orange peel, a breast that appears red or blotchy, swelling, or a size increase that doesn't change with menstrual cycles or weight fluctuation.

Because of their appearance, embarrassment often keeps women from seeing their doctor. Lack of knowledge, embarrassment and the absence of a detectable lump often causes women to assume there is no chance of cancer.

As if all this isn't confusing enough, IBC symptoms are not always the same and any of these symptoms can also be signs of benign breast infection - which is not cancerous.

IBC is much more aggressive than most other forms of the disease. Often - as was the case with my mom - by the time the disease is diagnosed, it has already spread to other parts of the body.

Because of the rarity of this form of the disease (only about 1 to 5 percent of breast cancer cases in the U.S. are IBC), inflammatory breast cancer hasn't received the attention or research most other forms of breast cancer have. In fact, when award-winning columnist Molly Ivins died earlier this year, few, if any, accounts mentioned that she suffered from IBC.

However, recent studies show that although the disease is rare compared to other forms of breast cancer, it is certainly more deadly with over one-third of all breast cancer deaths attributed to IBC. This is causing many specialists to think the actual number of women with the disease could be much higher.

All of this has lead to a much lower survival rate for women diagnosed with IBC. At this point, 60 percent of women diagnosed with IBC will not survive five years.

But there is hope.

As knowledge increases, so does the chance of survival for women diagnosed with the disease.

In October of last year, an inflammatory breast cancer clinic was opened at the M.D. Anderson Hospital in Houston, Texas.

This is the first program of its kind in the world - dedicated to the treatment and research of IBC.

And so as my mom prepares to undergo surgery a week from today, she will be surrounded by family and friends who have been so helpful and supportive over the past two years.

And while I will continue to question why something like this had to happen to my mom, I am thankful it happened at a time when people are becoming more aware, giving her an even greater shot at survival.

And I can only hope that in some way I have helped increase the knowledge of this horrible disease.