My friends, the news about my niece discovering the lump in her breast rocked me, conjuring up the family ghosts of cancers past to haunt me. First there was my mother's breast cancer and subsequent mastectomy. She lived 20 more years. Then there was my own breast cancer 24 years ago, with a lumpectomy and removal of lymph nodes, followed by radiation. Then there was the diagnosis of lymphoma for my middle sister, Gayle, whom I have written of. She was cured of the lymphoma through surgery and chemotherapy.
Moving right along to the death of my youngest sister of untreated breast cancer. She was out of our lives for years at a time, by her own choice, and was out of touch for three years near the end of her life. We found out that she was dying only a day or two before she died, and we did not make it to her in time to see her alive. Why was her cancer not treated? I can only assume that her life was so miserable that she wanted to die. One year after my youngest sister's death, my only other sibling, Gayle, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Within four months, she was dead.
Mixed in between the accounts above were the aunts and cousins who were diagnosed with cancers of various kinds, breast cancer, another lymphoma, melanoma, uterine cancer, colon cancer, always hitting the women in the family, sometimes killing them, sometimes not.
And now my niece. She's still grieving for her mother, Gayle. My heart breaks for her. I pray that her news on Thursday will be good news, but, for the moment, I'm worried and distracted and haunted, and I may not be myself for the next few days. Sometimes blogging is therapeutic for me, and I may continue more or less as usual. I may even joke around and laugh. Then again, I may not.
And that's the way it is.