When the final credits rolled, I sat there stunned.
I had been mentally preparing myself for weeks to watch the documentary Inflammingo. I desperately didn’t want to be disappointed. After all, I’ve spent eighteen years talking about this disease. And now, on a large movie screen in front of me, a story was about to play out.
One of my mottos in life is to keep expectations realistic so they won’t be dashed when things don’t go as planned. That way, I can face whatever comes with steadier footing. But this time, I wasn’t sure what “realistic” even meant. Would this be just a sentimental letter to a small audience, or could it rise to something greater?
From the very first moments of the opening scene, I knew I would not be disappointed.
The film was beautifully shot and beautifully edited, weaving together the story of Sherry—her life, her mottos, and the choices she made because of them. Sometimes, when we lose someone, memory has a way of polishing their image. But with Sherry, there was no need. She truly was remarkable, someone we could all strive to emulate in how she viewed and lived life. I’ve only known a few people like her—exceptional souls who leave a lasting mark.
I wondered if the film could carry that strength forward. Would it stumble in trying to connect Sherry’s story to something larger? But it didn’t. Instead, it grew. It told of her battle with stage IV inflammatory breast cancer, then wove in the voices of her family, other patients, advocates, and world experts.
A quiet but steady call to action emerged: how could such an aggressive, highly fatal disease remain so overlooked in the medical community, both in education and in research? The film explained gently but powerfully that progress against IBC could ripple outward, bringing benefits to other cancers as well. By pacing this message carefully, the documentary gave viewers time to understand why this disease matters—not only to those directly affected, but to everyone.
And then came the ending—a reminder that we can all learn from Sherry’s simple but profound practice: choosing joy, choosing love, choosing to have a “flamingo day.”
As the credits faded, I thought: I could only hope that one day, someone might say even a fraction of these things about how I lived my life. Sherri will always be a role model for me—now more than ever. Because the true measure of a role model is not whether their presence inspires you in the moment, but whether their words and actions continue to guide you long after they’re gone. Sherry’s do. And that is a timeless impact.
I hope everyone has the chance to see Inflammingo. Whether or not you’ve been touched by inflammatory breast cancer, you will leave the theater feeling richer for it. And may its call to action not fall on deaf ears—it is urgently needed.
I usually sign off my writing with “hope always.” But in honor of Team Sherry, I’ll say instead: I hope you have a flamingo day.