A bittersweet summer
Cancer strikes … but it won’t strike me down.
“Have you ever thought about writing a book about your life?”
I get this question a lot from people who get to know me personally.
And yes, in fact, I have written a book that includes essays about my life. The tiny book is still available on Amazon. I don't promote it anymore, because right after I published that, my life changed again when my youngest daughter had a cardiac arrest and was diagnosed with an impossibly rare genetic disease.
After that, I was fine telling my story to the media to encourage genetic disease research, but writing another book felt risky … because I know how quickly and dramatically life can change.
Now I wonder if I just had a sixth sense that something else was on the way.
What was on the way
Toward the end of April this year, I was diagnosed with breast cancer.
I have no family history of breast cancer.
Genetic testing of 90 genes showed no predisposition to cancer.
I haven’t eaten meat in 20 years. I don’t drink or smoke. I use chemical-free products on my skin, I drink filtered water, and I manage my stress.
There is no reason for me to have cancer.
But here I am with cancer.
Over the last several weeks, I’ve begun taking the cancer treatment drugs. On June 16, I will go into the hospital for a full mastectomy. After the surgery, the oncologists will make their recommendations about whether I need chemo and/or radiation.
I literally don’t know what the future holds, save for the surgery in one week.
You know what I am sure of?
Everything will be okay. I will make it through this. My family will make it through this.
And we will find something beautiful on the other side.
Because if there’s anything I’ve learned through losing a child, then almost losing another to the same rare disease, it’s that there’s always beauty on the other side.
I let myself be angry for about two weeks, but since then I’ve been praying, meditating, hugging my babies, walking my dogs, writing writing writing … and snuggling our new kitten.
What has been delightful through this — yes, I have found delight! — is the love and support and utter encouragement I’ve received from friends, family, professional acquaintances and perfect strangers. Not pity, encouragement. Notes of “If anyone can kick cancer’s butt, it’s you!”, “You’ve got this. We’re here to watch the kids whenever you need,” “We can’t wait to see what you write about this!” flood my inbox, text messages, Slack and voicemail daily.
But Jess, what does any of this have to do with Trust Fall’s focus on communication, humanity and trust???
Oh, my dear friend … everything.
As I share this strange and startlingly human journey of breast cancer, I am trusting people to receive it with grace and maybe curiosity. People are trusting me to communicate with honesty and integrity. And I am receiving communication in return with gratefulness and love in my heart.
Communication isn’t just about grammar rules and persuasion — it’s about creating and experiencing connection.
I’m likely going to be taking the next few weeks off of writing here on Trust Fall as I’m healing from surgery. I am hopeful that this time of rest and recovery will give me new inspiration to bring back here to the page when I am ready. If I can leave you with one thought to tide you over until I return, though, I want it to be this:
This life is beautiful. Share your life’s beauty loudly, joyfully, for us all to hear. We’re listening.