An improvised life

I’ve been corresponding with a friend who, like me, experienced traumatic loss. When she returned to her church, she said, people gave her forlorn looks and asked, "How are you doing?" While everyone meant well, it was stressful. Finally, someone came up to her with a smile and said, “We’re so glad you’re here.” That felt better.       I can relate, I told her. Not long after John died, I was invited to a holiday party. I wanted to go – I wanted to be surrounded by warm laughter and smiles, to soak in the good energy. But I dreaded the pitying looks and meaningful “How are yous.”  Finally, I got a marker and an 8.5” by 11” piece and wrote, “I’m ok, thanks! Can we talk about you?” I taped the paper to my chest and went to the party.   It worked. I saw people catch my eye, begin to assume crestfallen demeanor, then take in the sign and – smile! I had an evening of laughter and escape, and didn’t have to talk about myself.   One of my mother’s key pieces of

In July I met with a genetic counselor; it was a hoop I had to jump through in order to get genetic testing. I figured I had learned what I needed to know from the pamphlet, “Your Jewish Genes: Hereditary Breast Cancer and Ovarian Cancer,” [i] which I found in my oncologist’s waiting area .     But no! Bob Resta was a fast-talking, information-dense fount of facts [ii] . My attorney friend Layla and my physician father happened to be with me, and we were all fascinated, so I thought I’d share some of what we learned as I decimated Mr. Resta's bowl of Dove chocolate and madly scribbled in my notebook. [iii] American women as a whole have a 12 percent lifetime risk of breast cancer. Ninety percent of breast cancer cases do not have an obvious genetic component. There are six genes known to cause breast cancer, at least four of which he said I clearly did not have. Some 30 percent of women who have a breast cancer gene don’t have a family history of breast cancer.

My oncologist is over the moon about my tumors’ response to chemotherapy. It was clear from physical examination that my tumors shrunk, and an MRI last week indicates my largest cancerous lymph node shrunk from about 2.5 cm to 0.8 cm. The masses in my breast are also reduced. Conclusion of radiologist: “Right breast: Marked response to chemotherapy, with much diminished residual tumor.” My oncologist added a hand-drawn smiley face and this comment: “Awesome! Strong work. Very nice response thus far.” I have two more taxol treatments, which I find slightly less abhorrent than the adriamycin-cytoxan cocktail. It’s gratifying to know that the poisons are having some effect beyond stopping up my excretory system and making my eyes and nose leak. Still, tumors are kind of like dandelions--the roots are tenacious. Chemotherapy is whacking back the tumors but, as with dandelions, only with constant application of force (or, say, Roundup) will the weeds stay at bay. The hop