To tell my parents, who live across the country in Florida, I called and asked them both to get on the phone. When my sister was diagnosed, my parents had a very rough time. Their child had cancer, and they were in the dugout while she faced the pitch. My mother wanted to return to CA quickly to be with her baby. My father needed an outlet for his anger and anxiety - an outlet that I was happy to provide at that time. I didn't know how they'd react when told that cancer came for me, but I had to tell them on Monday because I WASN'T HAVING SURGERY on Tuesday.
They were outstanding on the phone. I had to explain, for the 3rd time in the day, why I wasn't having surgery first, and frankly, I still didn't really understand why, but the doctors were unanimous on this recommendation. Other than asking a few questions, they supported me and my family. I told them Tracey, or I would keep them informed as we learned more. And that we hadn't told the kids yet - but would that night. Clearly, this news wouldn't stay quiet for long, and I wanted to limit the number of times I needed to tell the story. It wasn't a story that got better with repetition.
Jessica:
I’m home. Can you talk? Would love to connect, but only if it doesn’t add stress.
Joelle:
At estate attorney. Will call tonight
Jessica:
Oh dear
Joelle:
Planned
Jessica:
Better
For what it's worth, it's a good idea to have an estate plan and update it every five years - especially when there's no reason to think you'll need it soon. Less stressful. We had an estate plan from when our first son was born, but we hadn't updated it for 20+ years. As part of planning my prophylactic surgery, I wanted our estate plan up to date - especially the guardianship for our sole remaining minor child should something terrible happen. Not that my surgery created a life-threatening risk for my husband (or for me - but I was the one facing 12 hours under anesthesia), but having these crucial documents current gave me comfort.
My kids, like my parents, were expecting me to have surgery the next day and needed to be told it wasn't happening and why. Knowing they would support each other and that I would prefer not to tell the story three times instead of once, we asked all the kids to join Neal, Heather, and me at our dining room table. Our family associates that table with good times, laughter, deep discussions, and silly ones. I sat at the head of the table with my sons on the left and my daughter on the right. No easy way to say it, so I was swift and direct.
The doctors found a tumor and that meant my surgery was delayed until after chemotherapy. The tumor is small and I could not even feel it. It was detected early and that meant my outcome was going to be great.
Each child responded differently. My eldest listened intently and was logically processing the information - what we knew, what we didn't, what would come next. He accepted my confident assertion that I was going to be OK. My big, strong, middle son teared up as his mind raced to worst-case scenarios and guilt that he was about to leave to go across the country for his second semester - how could he leave me when I was in need? My daughter sniffled and cried quietly - her fear and sadness emanating from her face. My thoughts went to my experience as a 15-year-old with a mother going through chemo, and I was committed that my daughter would not feel any responsibility to be a caretaker. She was going to be a teenager! I gave each of my children a job to help me over the next few months. Ben was to create the uplifting soundtrack. Taylor was to write to me before each chemo, and I would try to travel to his spring baseball in Florida and hopefully a series at Hamilton. Ariel was to entertain me with her live music, sports, and intellectual interests. And they were to live big in their lives - considering me and filling my soul with happiness.
I knew they needed support, and my sister's family, plus our "village" of three families who had raised our children together, rose to the challenge for two of them. My sister and I had been talking off and on all day as she started to mobilize her network for my medical team.
Joelle to Jessica and Tracey:
You can tell your kids
Tay and Ariel are a mess. Ben is trying to be rational
Jessica:
Ohhhh
I’m so sorry. How can I help
Tracey:
Ok for me to tell Jake and Em?
Joelle:
Yup
Joelle (to Jessica):
I’ll call after I talk to Ariel’s therapist (Ariel has a 6pm). Not sure how to help but want to talk
My daughter and I arrived at her therapy appointment. She'd been dealing with anxiety, anorexia nervosa, panic attacks, and social challenges. Until January 9, she was making fantastic progress, feeling healthier, more in control, and using all available tools to feel good. She was also about to have a front-row seat to what I remembered was the worst show on earth. Providence ensured that she already had an appointment with her therapist, a psychiatrist who specializes in adolescent psychiatry.
In an unusual move, since Ariel usually attends her therapy sessions alone, I walked into the doctor's office and asked to speak with him first.
I’m handing you a pile of shit on a tray. Remember that I was supposed to have prophylactic surgery tomorrow? Well, I was diagnosed with breast cancer today. We told the kids about 30 minutes ago. Ariel is a wreck. And she’s yours for the next 50 minutes.
Doctor: How are you doing?
Pretty well. This wasn’t a shock except for the timing. Don’t know a lot except it’s small and early - although it did include a lymph node, so that’s not great.
Doctor: OK - I’d like to hope that coming to my office for this session is the single best place for your daughter right now. I’ll do my best.
I’m sure it is and I’m sure you will. Thank you.
Jessica (to Heather):
I’ve heard that Tay and Ariel are a mess. I’ve been texting with Joelle. Are you handling dinner? I have their preferences at local restaurants and can place an order if that would be helpful. Just let me know.
Heather:
Neal and I are picking up some Chinese food
Joelle is getting Ariel now from her appt
Taylor seems OK…it’s good the kids are together tonight
Who knew that Chinese Food was comfort food to my family?
My children leaned on each other. My middle son asked if he could talk with 2 of his close friends - both of whom are sons of 2 of my closest friends, Jessica and Regina. Jessica had told Regina with my consent and understanding of my "order of operations." Jessica's son came to our house and took Taylor away.
The three boys, each of whom I have a very close relationship with, cried and yelled at each other, letting their anger, fears, anxieties, and shock run their course. I'm thankful they were all home and had each other. These two "extra sons" also brought stories, color, and happiness into my days throughout treatment.
Jessica:
Our boys were just yucking it up in my driveway - sounded like they were laughing and joking with each other. No idea why in my driveway, but I was in my office for a meeting and could hear what sounded like fun
Joelle:
Ilan (Jessica’s son) made a point to come in and hug me
(Next day’s text to Jessica)
Joelle:
Also - Tay says Ilan was very troubled by my diagnosis. He did give me a great hug, but I wanted you to know in the event he needs a little extra support. We should include him when we launch the Caring Bridge - going to write in a moment.
Photo by Josue Escoto on Unsplash
With that done, day one was over. I still didn't have an oncologist - but Tracey's friend connected me to another friend who is very involved as a UCSF donor. The UCSF donor asked me to write about what I needed and then sent my note to Dr. Laura Esserman, renowned breast surgeon and Director of the UCSF Breast Cancer Center. The donor (I'm not using his name as he did my family and me a great service, but he is well known, and I want to protect his privacy) asked me to let him know if I have yet to hear from UCSF within 24 hours. I did. And later, after my interactions with various scheduling challenges at UCSF, I appreciated how this individual expedited my care. I am in his debt and fortunate to have had his sponsorship. Part of hitting a curveball is creating opportunities for people to help you in unexpected ways. I didn't know who could help me, but I'm glad someone did.
essica handled our friends well - no one called. I knew that I didn't have long before the news spread through our very tight-knit community - many of whom were still reeling from the tragic loss of Dana six months earlier. Every cancer is unique, and Dana's story is different from mine - but I knew that I needed to control the narrative and give people guidance about how to support me, especially before I knew answers to any of their questions. I asked Jessica to help me control the message and limit the number of times I had to tell the story or reassure people that I'd be fine by setting up a CaringBridge for me with Neal, Heather, Jessica, and me as authors. I wrote my first post. Posts from CaringBridge illustrate how I figured out how to turn these curveballs into home runs.
Continue the story…
