Survival storiesBattling breast cancer brings hope, new awareness to women's livesVICKI CABOT
|
 Cancer survivor Deborah Israel has found solace in a renewed commitment to Jewish life. Here, she entertains Temple Solel Rabbi Alan Berlin and his son Daniel in her family sukkah (Sukkot booth). |
A monthly breast exam, a routine visit to the gynecologist, an annual mammogram, and results indicate a lump, a bump, a suspicious thickening of tissue. Could it be breast cancer, or simply an innocuous cyst, a harmless calcification? Additional tests, consultations, discussions ensue. Then, the diagnosis. It's cancer - and the breast must be partially or completely removed.
For thousands of women, the scenario is played out on a daily basis. Breast cancer is reaching epidemic proportions - it's the leading cause of death for women between the ages of 35 and 54. Yet for those who survive - and those numbers are growing with early detection and treatment - it confers a very special status.
Facing a potentially fatal illness and prevailing is empowering, inspiring renewed appreciation of life and, for many, a strong desire to reach out to help others.
"Breast-cancer survivors are very special people," says Janice Sperber, an almost 10-year survivor, who counsels others through the American Cancer Society's Reach for Recovery program. "We have a job to do."
Star Sacks, who has recovered from a bout of ovarian cancer, has befriended many who have had breast or other types of cancer. She describes having cancer as "a growth opportunity" that has resulted in deepening friendships and more fulfilling personal relationships. "I've had so much experience, it's a pity to waste it," she says over lunch with breast-cancer survivor and friend, Diana Bendau. "I can answer questions from experience and offer reassurance."
Each woman copes differently, not only with the feared diagnosis, but with disfiguring surgery, debilitating treatment, not to mention searing emotional and psychological costs. Family, friends, laughter, positive thinking, spiritual strength, purposeful activity - each are mentioned in discussions with several local survivors. And each shows an indomitable will to beat the deadly disease.
'Acts of kindness'
In six weeks, Lois Scheiner went from teaching recalcitrant high school juniors how to construct a grammatically correct sentence to fighting for her life.
On the way, she and husband, Steve, had to do battle with the managed-care system to afford her sophisticated treatment that would substantially increase her chances for recovery. Yet throughout the entire year of her grueling treatment, which included two surgeries, radiation, chemotherapy and the difficult bone-marrow transplant, Scheiner's resolve never wavered. "I decided that I wanted to live," she says simply. "I just made up my mind." What sustained her was the unfailing love of her family and the enormous outpouring of support from the community. Fellow teachers at North High School donated their sick days to her to cover her time off until she qualified for full-time disability. A neighbor enlisted her chavurah, study group, to prepare Shabbat dinner each Friday night. Another acquaintance showed up with a complete Passover seder. Friends provided transportation and husband, Steve, "took care of everything."
"The acts of kindness, the cards, the contributions - I didn't realize how nice people could be," says Scheiner, a four-year survivor. "I knew I had too much to live for. I didn't want to die."
'Keep laughing'
For Diana Bendau, laughter is the best medicine. Tall, willowy with attractively clipped salt-and-pepper hair framing her expressive eyes, Bendau exudes grace and style. A year ago, her hair was cut in a precise bob and her life was untouched by breast cancer. This month she marks her one-year anniversary since receiving her diagnosis.
"I remember when the doctor called to give me the results (of a surgical procedure used to detect breast cancer). I felt like somebody had punched me in the chest."
The ensuing weeks, a mastectomy, three months of chemotherapy, 33 radiation treatments, went by in a blur. Her hair fell out, and she opted for scarves and hats to cover her head. A wig she purchased, but never wore, provided a welcome bit of comic relief.
Making a video to send to her daughter Pam in Florida, son Andy made a grand entrance wearing his mother's wig, mugging for the camera. "You think it's me," says Bendau with a smile.
She spent the five days between surgery and chemotherapy at the Hyatt at Gainey Ranch in Scottsdale with her grown daughters.
"I've never laughed so much in my entire life," she says of the stay.
Bendau says the support of husband, Marv, friends and especially her children speeded her recovery.
Mostly, she credits her ability to laugh.
"If you don't have your sense of humor, you don't have anything," she says.
'Tradition, tradition'
For Deborah Israel, coping with cancer means seeing the light. It began with the light of the Hanukah candles her family lit in her bedroom as she recovered from a mastectomy last December and continues with a renewed appreciation of life, and specifically Jewish life.
Israel has taught Judaica, Hebrew and tefillot (prayers) at the Solel Day School for the past four years. Her days were filled with holiday projects and Jewish activities; her afternoons and evenings with the details of family life - carpools, shopping, cooking, laundry. Admittedly compulsive, Israel says that her pace never slowed.
Until last year, when a routine mammogram detected a suspicious mass.
"It was in the midst of all the fall holidays and there was so much to do," recalls Israel. She didn't have time to deal with cancer.
But after Thanksgiving, she and her husband, Marc, "dropped everything" to make the necessary round of doctors for second and third opinions.
Israel recalls thinking that Hanukkah would be a good time for surgery. "I knew that I could (miss) Hanukkah (since it is a minor Jewish festival), but I had to be back in school for Pesach."
So on Hanukkah, she was at home recuperating from a mastectomy.
"It was dark and cold, but there was all this light from the hanukkiot (menorah candles)," she recalls. The children at school sent her Hanukkah cards with Hebrew inscriptions and carefully drawn pictures, and they were displayed around the room.
And each night, the Israels lit another candle.
Slowly, Israel drew on the strength of Jewish tradition and regained her own.
She rediscovered the "peace that comes from the order and structure" of living Jewishly. Keeping kosher, Shabbat observance, the cycle of the holidays, all became imbued with renewed significance. This year, Israel is teaching only part time and focusing on her home, family and her own wellness.
"It has always been there for us," she says of the peace she has discovered in Jewish practice. "But it is as if the light went on. Now I see the meaning in it."
'Think positive'
'My mother was the eternal optimist," chuckles Jean Grossman. "We thought she made up the saying, 'If you get lemons, make lemonade.' "
Grossman says that that optimism, as well as that of her husband, Harold, made it relatively easy to deal with a diagnosis of breast cancer last year.
"I didn't say, 'Why me?' but rather, 'Why not me?' The statistics are so high, I feel fortunate that I didn't have to deal with breast cancer until I reached age 70."
Cancer's grim reality had touched the couple's life years before.
Harold Grossman was diagnosed in 1960. At that time, says Jean Grossman, cancer was a bad word and medical protocols limited.
"Nobody said cancer out loud," she recalls. "It just was not discussed."
Harold Grossman successfully recovered, and the couple went on to become generous supporters of cancer research and education.
The brush with a life-threatening illness changed their lives.
"We found out when we were very young that life doesn't go on forever," says Jean Grossman. "It defined our life in a very good way."
Her husband, she says, faced his own bout with the disease with equanimity. She felt compelled to follow his example.
"He was wonderful. I would be ashamed not to be."
Jean Grossman went to a cocktail party the evening after receiving her diagnosis.
"I wouldn't feel any better if I didn't go," she recalls thinking. Just two weeks after surgery, the Grossmans were at the Yitzhak Perlman concert at Arizona State University, first of a series of events celebrating Israel's 50th anniversary.
"I just decided that I would be fine," she says.
Grossman is quick to point out that she considers herself "so fortunate," because her cancer was detected early, she recovered fairly easily from surgery and no subsequent treatment was indicated.
She emphasizes that every woman and each case is different.
Still, she says, the power of positive thinking is essential to recovery.
"Worrying doesn't make it any better."
| What you should know |
