joelle kaufman, February 6, 2023
SPOILER ALERT - DON'T READ IF YOU ARE WATCHING PEAKY BLINDERS SEASON 6.
My husband and I decided to start Season 6 of Peaky Blinders on Netflix after we were surprised by my diagnosis. One of the prominent story points is the funeral of a significant female character - Polly. It was an unplanned storyline that they had to reshoot because the actress who played Polly, Helen McCrory - who also played Narcissa LaStrange in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince - herself had passed away at 52 while shooting season six. I knew that - I remember reading the news in 2021 when she passed and feeling sad for her husband, Damian Lewis, and her two young children. I remembered that it was cancer.
I couldn't resist the draw of the Internet to recall what type of cancer it was. She was 52. She died of breast cancer. That sucks. For her and her family. I know that every pathology is unique and people make all sorts of treatment choices and outcomes are still unpredictable. I have no idea when they detected her cancer , her pathology or her treatment choices or options. I'm thankful that my family and genetic history put every medical provider I have had in the last 30 years on high alert - which resulted in detecting my tumor early even when it didn't exist on MRI in June 2022 - a rather unusual circumstance that made the UCSF doctors and my new friend the USC physicist who specializes in cancer care all say "wow"” For the record, I would prefer to be medically boring.
My overconfidence as a 15-year-old about my mother's trajectory, which turned out to be accurate, was not true of many other women I've known since. We were lucky - both with her and my sister. I've had the pleasure in the last four weeks of talking with so many other lucky women who are now cancer-free - many more than I know of who died. It's the most common of the cancers, apparently, and there is a vast network of survivors. I joined the Peloton Breast Cancer Survivors group - why not manifest where I want to be in six months! And even with all my rational thinking about not knowing any of this actress's circumstances, as well as my confidence in my treatment and trajectory, I felt sure Helen McCrory had resources and most likely did everything she could to fight her cancer, but still died. And that threw me for a loop in the middle of the night.
At 415 am, I found myself awake, ruminating. A subconscious foul ball off the bat versus this cancer curveball pitch. A lesson not to explore the Internet before bed. Seeing the funeral on TV triggered emotions that this is a deadly disease and that I hope luck is with me.
Helen was my age and had children she left behind (as well as a loving partner). My mind released the inevitable questions about whether the treatment would work for me. Would I be saying goodbye to my children, husband, parents, and friends? There are so many memories I want to make with my friends and family. I thought of the woman I knew who had an early-stage cancer that came back and didn't respond to treatment - when she passed, she left three devastated daughters with a heartbroken father. I thought of the people I knew who lost a parent before they were married - their parents didn't get to enjoy seeing their child in love and building a life. Or the people who died before their children had children and didn't get to enjoy being a grandparent. The people who didn't get to kvell (swell with pride) as their child graduated or started their first job.
I've loved sharing my life with my mom. We talk daily, and when something is exciting, like a big celebration or a trip, we coordinate and organize together. Would my children be able to do that? I don't want to miss out on their lives. I want as long as I can get. I suspect everyone does.
Death is the consequence of living. Rationally, I knew I wasn't any closer to death after my Stage 2A diagnosis than I was right before it. My self-regulation skills are pretty well developed, and I can catch myself when my mind starts generating a rapid list of what-ifs and maybe-nots. But Helen McCrory disrupted my self-control and highlighted that sometimes, despite the best efforts, it doesn't work out. The sadness of that possibility is balanced only by appreciation of how many things bless my life. I could get myself back to sleep and recharge for the next day with a little effort.
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