No Big Deal Mom, I Have Cancer

Today for the first time I decided to return to this blog, whose original purpose was to record events that happen in our life for the first time ever. This blog was interrupted at the end of January for the only reason that February delivered news that sure could have qualified for a "Today for the first time" entry but none of us had the heart nor the motivation to share.

So let's try this again. About three months ago, for the very first time, I was told I had breast cancer. Not much needs to be said. It was caught very early on and I am confident I will be OK. What bothers me the most is not that I have cancer. What really bothers me is that my sister died from breast cancer just a few years ago and it seems it was just a few weeks ago.

I thought it was possible to put a sister's death somewhere in a parallel universe where it would not interfere with my life. I thought I would mourn my sister like I mourned both my parents. I was wrong. Losing a sibling is not like losing a parent. You simply don't come to terms with it.

So who was I talking about? It took me a while to come to terms with my predicament mainly because when you learn you have cancer at the same time you learn your grandchild is in very acute danger, the word "cancer" registers as "nosebleed". So when I felt he was not in immediate danger any longer, a few weeks later, I remembered I had breast "nosebleed" and that my sister died from it. It felt like chewing on aluminum foil.

So here I am on my way to surgery and radiation in a world that still stutters to spell "cancer" out, that expects the patient to be brave (but falling apart when you have a heart attack or kidney failure is OK), and where some cancer patients still keep their disease a secret in order not to cause discomfort or scare others.

On French TV I saw this advertisement for cancer research: a mother talks to her adult son on the phone.

- I won't be able to make it on Sunday mom, I am sick.
- Oh what happened darling?
- Oh no big deal mom, I have cancer.
- All right, sweetie, I understand. Feel better. See you next week OK?

A voice says: this is the way it will be in the future. Thanks to cancer research, having cancer will be just the same as having a cold .....


I hope G-d watches French TV programs once every so often.



Nathalie