Tag cancer

The cover is half pink, where the title sits, and half white, with a cut open lemon showing one side open and the other with the rind up.

Five Minutes of Discomfort

carmenjessophclibraryorg 1 Comment
The cover is half pink, where the title sits, and half white, with a cut open lemon showing one side open and the

by Carmen J.

Every woman, especially over 40, who reads these words every year exhales a sigh of relief. I’m one of them.

Mammogram results that read, "No suspicious masses, calcifications, or other suspi

Every year since I turned 40, I’ve received the reminder for my annual mammogram and diligently scheduled the appointment. After recently hearing on the news and by the appointment receptionist about advanced screenings for those with dense breasts, I decided the extra $40 out-of-pocket expense would mean greater peace of mind. I feel a bit shameful admitting that before I turned 40 and until I gave birth to my daughter just before turning 41, my breasts were not my priority. I rarely gave them much thought, if I’m being completely honest.

I was never ample or busty by any means, and only during pregnancy did I fill out my bras and shirts. “Will you breastfeed?” my doctor asked. What started as an “I guess so,” led to 14 months of nourishing my daughter with my own body. How could I have taken my breasts and my body for granted? I’m sure it wasn’t the first time nor would it be the last, but my perspective heightened. 

Now with my own daughter, I know annual screenings are important for my own health and wellness, and I want to set a positive example for my daughter. I want to live a long and happy life free of cancer. And with my own mother being a breast cancer survivor, after a diagnosis in her 70s, I know my risks are riskier than others. 

The process of this year’s appointment didn’t change from previous years, only the depth of imaging. I was reminded not to wear deodorant and to remove my shirt and bra, and put on the gown I was given with the opening in the front. Over the 10 years I have had these screenings done, I’m always pleased that despite my initial anxiety and minor discomfort, the screening itself takes about five minutes. And according to my technician, the imaging would detect cancer two years in advance of what would be seen by the naked eye.  

When the time comes to slip out of my gown and stand topless facing the screening machine, the technician positions my arms and gives clear instructions about where to insert my breast. We start with images of the right breast followed by images of the left. Each is placed on a clear shelf-like surface and then compressed by another mechanism that flattens it out. Once placed in position, the technician walks away and instructs you to hold your breath, while the images are taken. Hundreds of images are taken of each breast from similar angles. Once completed, you get dressed and leave. Months of anxiety melt away after five minutes. 

Does it hurt? No. Is it uncomfortable? Sure. But if getting my boobs squished each year is an effort to keep myself healthy, then five minutes of discomfort are worth the remaining peace of mind. Squish away.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Consider this my gentle reminder to those with breasts: Schedule your mammograms. Five minutes of discomfort may save your life and your peace of mind.

For more information:
Breasts: The Owner’s Manual: Every Woman’s Guide to Reducing Cancer Risk, Making Treatment Choices, and Optimizing Outcomes by Dr. Kristi Funk

The New Generation Breast Cancer Book: How to Navigate Your Diagnosis and Treatment Options–and Remain Optimistic–in an Age of Information Overload by Elisa Port, MD, FACS, Chief of Breast Surgery at The Mount Sinai Hospital and Co-director of the Dubin Breast Center

A woman and her small white dog sit atop a VW camper/bus, with a lake behind them.

Between Two Kingdoms: A Memoir of a Life Interrupted by Suleika Jaouad 

madammommy 1 Comment

by Piyali C.

A woman and her small white dog sit atop a VW camper/bus

“I used to think healing meant ridding the body and heart of anything that hurt. It meant putting your pain behind you, leaving it in the past. But I’m learning that’s not how it works. Healing is figuring out how to coexist with the pain that will always live inside of you, without pretending it isn’t there or allowing it to hijack your day. It is learning to confront ghosts and to carry what lingers. It is learning to embrace the people I love now instead of protecting against a future gutted by their loss.” (P.312) This passage from Suleika Jaouad’s inspiring memoir, Between Two Kingdoms: A Memoir of a Life Interrupted, resonated so much with me that I had to write it down. 

At the tender age of twenty-two, when Suleika’s peers were looking forward to their futures, she was diagnosed with leukemia with a 35 percent chance of survival. It started with an intolerable itch all over her body, followed by mouth sores and extreme fatigue. When the diagnosis came down like a heavy anvil, she was, understandably, shattered. Thus began a tremendously painful journey of chemotherapy, clinical trials, a bone marrow transplant, waiting for biopsy results, and interminably long stays at the cancer ward in hospitals. During those stays, Suleika felt she had limited time left on this earth so she decided to do something meaningful while she still could. After her anger at the unfairness of her fate dissipated some, she took up writing blogs geared towards young adults suffering from cancer. The New York Times published her blogs under the column Life, Interrupted. She got an outpouring of letters and emails of support from people from various parts of the country.  

After three years of painful struggle, her cancer finally went into remission. However, Suleika discovered that she did not know how to come back to a life without cancer – the kingdom of healthy people. She found herself at a junction where she needed to relearn how to integrate into regular life again. Such a close brush with her mortality made her aware that life is much more than what she had envisioned at twenty-two, before she got sick. Like any young adult, Suleika had hoped for a successful career and love. After her remission, her definition of success changed. She adopted a puppy, Oscar, borrowed a friend’s car, learned to drive, and embarked upon a 100 day, 15,000 mile road trip across the country to meet with some people who had sent her letters of love and support when she was sick. 

Between Two Kingdoms: A Memoir of a Life Interrupted is about Suleika’s fight against cancer, and so much more. It explores what living truly means and how to emerge to the other side of pain stronger with a clearer vision of the meaning of life. This book is about new beginnings. 

We read books for many reasons. Personally, I love reading because books teach me empathy. They allow me to understand that everyone is fighting their own battle and I need to extend grace. In this particular book, Jaouad’s struggle against cancer was painful to read, however, I drew inspiration from her resilience, her fierce determination to win, her understanding and respect for other people’s pain, and by the love and support that held her up. The love came not only from her immediate family – her parents, brother, boyfriend, friends but also from complete strangers who never met her. The innate goodness of humanity shone brightly in this memoir, and it gave me hope. 

Between Two Kingdoms: A Memoir of a Life interrupted by Suleika Jaouad is available in book, e-book, and e-audiobook formats.

Piyali is an instructor and research specialist at HCLS Miller Branch, where she facilitates Light But Not Fluffy and co-facilitates Global Reads. She keeps the hope alive that someday she will reach the bottom of her to-read list.

The book cover depicts an illustration of a woman in pink sweater and blue jeans dancing with the translucent, ghostly image of her mother, who is represented by a gravestone at their feet which reads "Mom, 1961-2009."

Dancing at the Pity Party: A Dead Mom Graphic Memoir by Tyler Feder

carmenjessophclibraryorg 2 Comments
The book cover depicts an illustration of a woman in pink sweater and blue jeans dancing with the translucent, ghostly image of her mother, who is represented by a gravestone at their feet which reads "Mom, 1961-2009."

by Carmen J.

I hate to state the obvious, but an unfortunate fact of life is that we will gradually lose the ones we love. In this year alone, I’ve had the reality check of all reality checks as I said goodbye to my sister-in-law, my daughter’s great grandmother, my best friend from high school’s parents, my best friend from my first job out of college, a former colleague (RIP Joe McHugh), and two icons: Kobe Bryant and Chadwick Boseman. Yes, 2020, I’m going to have to ask you to leave, please?

In Dancing at the Pity Party: A Dead Mom Graphic Memoir, the author writes about her experience losing her mother when she was 19 and dealing with the 10-year aftermath of grief. The writing and illustrations are insightful, poignant, and humorous at the same time. The author’s mother died of cancer and the author vividly describes the myriad of emotions caregivers endure, so readers can connect to her story on many levels.

Like the author, I lost both my father and sister to cancer, and I found myself nodding in heartfelt agreement at many of Feder’s descriptions of losing a parent and enduring the magnified heartache of cancer. In particular, she captured the reality of the endless trips to the hospital for treatments and cancer’s physical and emotional tolls on the ill and their families.

As a reader, I connected with Feder’s reflections on how death can be so difficult to talk about for some. No one really knows the exact right thing to say when you hear that someone has died. It’s awkward and uncomfortable and unexpected, much like death itself. I laughed at the author’s inflections of humor and her ability to find humor even in her darkest days.

I’m lucky I still have a living mother. As we celebrated her 80th birthday this year, my thoughts trickled to the thought of what life may look like some day without her. I hate that image. As Feder highlights in the book, I, too, consider my mom to be a rock star and an undeniable force in my life. More time is always what we want with those we love and, selfishly, it’s never enough.

Put this book in the hands of someone who is hurting from recent loss, has someone succumbing to illness, or anyone in need of finding the right words of comfort.

Carmen J is a teen instructor at HCLS East Columbia. Among her favorite things are great books, all things 80s, fall weather, Halloween, and pumpkin spice everything.