My Breasts, My Cure--Prologue

My Breasts, My Cure

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Prologue

         People have compared us to the Kennedy family. No, my family never had their wealth, their fame, or their political empire. What the Kennedys have in common with us is their very close-knit clan, and . . . ah, yes, the family curse-all those tragedies in one family.

         I have four brothers and four sisters. Two of my older siblings died of cancer, and one sister was paralyzed from a childhood accident. Her recovery was miraculous. Another sister is in remission from colon cancer that nearly killed her, and just a few months ago, was diagnosed with breast cancer. Luckily, it was caught very early and had not left the ductal site; therefore, she did not need chemotherapy. My father mysteriously disappeared when I was eighteen years old, and we never saw him again. My mother died six months after I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

          Almost everybody in the family has had some serious illnesses. My most impressive one had only been the flu. I credit this to my athleticism, balanced diet, love and romance, and zest for life. Then breast cancer struck.

          I was diagnosed with breast cancer in September of last year. Boy, when I finally get seriously ill, I really know how to pick 'em. I thought of my mother, and a prayer came instantaneously. Oh, God, don't let my mother bury another one.

         It's funny how the maternal umbilical cord immediately tugs at the heart and mind when one experiences a crisis. Love for my Mom washed over me and I started longing for her nearness. I began to write her letters, not knowing what to say at first. Soon words started pouring out and I couldn't stop. This is amazing considering that there was a time when I never had anything much to say to her. I used to think that if I were to write a story about my mother, it would be the shortest story ever written. That was cruel.

          I thought I was going to predecease my mother with my breast cancer. I never expected that she would die only months after my diagnosis. It was almost as if she wasn't going to stand by and watch another one of her children die.

         Today, I still write to my Mom, making up for all the letters that I should have written her when she was still alive. Some of these letters are incorporated in the story.

         Let's go back to the time when I first discovered I had breast cancer.

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Next item: "My Breasts, My Cure -- Chapter One"