What If's

I'll admit, I've spent a lot of time pondering the "what if's" lately.  Breast cancer forces you to do so, particularly because there are no certain answers about reoccurrence or spread. There's no magic number of years where your risk factor drops.  I've learned that as I've asked more and more questions of my doctors. So learning to live with that level of uncertainty, particularly as I near my end of treatment, is something I've had to figure out how to cope with.

I had a sad event happen recently, however, that probably taught me more about coping with the breast cancer "what if's" in the long term than any amount of therapy could possibly do.  My cousin passed away very unexpectedly a few weeks ago.  This cousin was in her mid-60's and was the only living family member of mine who had also dealt with breast cancer.  In fact, she had lived through two rounds of breast cancer, once 35 years ago and once about 15 years ago.  She had been my mentor over the past couple of months as I traveled a journey similar to hers, even welcoming me into the "sisterhood" (one with a very high initiation fee, she added).  And yet, she passed away very unexpectedly and almost instantly of a blood clot one evening. Our entire family grieves the loss of her - my cousin was one of our matriarchs, with a wonderful husband, three lovely daughters and 5 grandchildren. 

So what did this teach me? That life can be unfair and that obsessing over the "what if's" really doesn't get you anywhere.  Anything can happen, at any time.  As my ancestors said, "Mentsch tracht, Gott lacht" ("Man plans, God laughs").  My cousin passed on some wonderful advice to me over the past several months, however, that I will always keep with me.  First, she told me multiple times that she lived life to its fullest. She traveled, spent time with family, and loved every moment of her life because she appreciated it even more after her battles.  That in itself gives me some degree of comfort in her death.  She also told me that the women in our family are tough cookies. "We may crumble a bit, but we never crack," she told me.  Finally, she sent me a lovely plate at Hanukkah this year that said "When life gives you potatoes, make latkes." Enough said.


I'm fighting this battle against cancer for myself, my husband, and my children.  But as I fight, I will also always continue to be inspired by the legacy of my cousin, Marian.