A Part Of Me:

by Karin Aharon

  David fell silent and I sat down in front of him. He sighed, and then went on. “Jenny was really young, not even thirty years old. She took all her tests strictly by the book. She had a checkup every 6 months. She had the best insurance you can get and went to the best of doctors. On one of her tests, I think it was an MRI, they found a very small cancerous tumor. Really tiny, only a few millimeters long. She had a surgery to remove the tumor. It was successful, and she kept going on her regular checkups.”

  David fell silent again, as if he had run out of battery. His fiddled with the papers. I slowly drank my tea and waited for him to go on. The room was so quiet we could hear the office noises outside; Anna’s flip flops tapping, phones ringing and Dina typing. David’s phone rang and he silenced it.

  “Anyway, she kept going on her regular checkups because she was told she didn’t need any treatments after the surgery. When she turned thirty-three, she started not feeling so well. When they found out she was sick, it had already spread to her bones, and I think her lungs, too. There was nothing more they could do, and she passed away after a few months.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear. I didn’t know,” I said to him and put my cup down on the table.

  We sat in silence a little longer. Both with our own thoughts. David continued reading and correcting the notes I had prepared, and I couldn’t stop thinking about everything I had just heard.

  The delivery guy had already brought lunch and the kitchen was now full with hungry lawyers who raided the bags as if they hadn’t eaten in years. We collected our papers without saying a word and got into my room.

  “Listen,” David said, “never mind the budget nonsense. What really matters is your health. Take care of yourself. You have little children and you can’t neglect your health. If you want, I can give you my wife’s number. You can talk to her. She will be happy to help you in any way possible”

  “Thank you, I’ll think about it.”

  “I have to go. I think we’ve gone over the important things. If you have any more questions, you can call me.” David shook my hand and left.

  I couldn’t focus on anything. I leaned backwards in my chair and looked at the ceiling. It had small mold patches. I didn’t know what to do with this new information. I felt as if a huge weight landed on my chest and I struggled to breath. I took a few deep and slow breaths, trying to calm down, but couldn’t. I pressed my head against the table and cried as quietly as I could.

  I pulled myself back together, but kept thinking about Jenny, and was overwhelmed with sadness again. This year I turn thirty-three, like Jenny was. I tried wrapping my head around how she had gotten to that situation within a few short months while having regular checkups. How could they have not found the cancer when it came back. Her sad story frightened me like hell. After all, I was counting on these checkups, and now my entire theory has collapsed. Then, I decided to check something that I hadn’t thought of until that very moment.

  I googled “recurrence of cancer among BRCA carriers,” but couldn’t find anything. I wasn’t sure whether anything could comfort me. I was thinking about my children, and how badly I didn’t want them to experience what I was going through with my mom. I didn’t want them to constantly be worried. If I get sick, how will I look them in the eye and tell them I knew this could happen but did nothing? That I knew I was at risk and waited.

  Until that very moment, when I encountered previvors, carriers who removed their breasts or ovaries, I couldn’t understand why they did it, why having checkups wasn’t enough. Now, when I finally understood why, I realized something needed to be done, I can’t idly wait. It’s not that I was about to amputate a healthy organ. It was an organ that was literally endangering my life.

  If until that moment I thought that checkups would be enough to save me, Jenny’s story completely changed things for me. I understood I had to save myself, and fast. I want to be a previvor. Not a survivor.

  ***

  When Michael came back home, the children were already asleep and we could talk quietly. While he ate his late dinner, I told him about my conversation with David.

  “I want to look into having that surgery.”

  “We said you’ll have it at 40, right?”

  “That’s the one for my ovaries. I’m talking about removing my breasts.” That was the first time I spoke those words out loud, and it scared me.

  He lifted his eyes from his plate and said, “if that’s what you want to do, I’ll support you.”

  I was surprised by how well he responded to this statement. As if I said I wanted to pull out a tooth.

  “You realize it’s irreversible. I’ll have silicon instead.” I pointed at my reckless breasts and wanted to make sure he understood.

  “I understand what it means, Shirley, and I support any choice you make.”

  “I want to do it this year. After the holidays, so that the kids are at school and not breathing down my neck.” I was restlessly pacing back and forth in the kitchen.

  “OK,” Michael stood up and hugged me. “I told you, anything you want.”

  “And I want to do it in a private hospital, so I can choose my own surgeon.” I said decisively to his face.

  “Of course, it will cost what it will cost. We’ll get you the most beautiful boobs out there.”

  “Don’t count on a size enlargement,” I smiled.

  “What a pity. Oh well, I’ll have to get over it.” He kissed me and we stood hugging in the kitchen for several moments, as if this was a cliché 1950’s American movie.

  “And if I have this surgery and it helps, then you’ll be stuck with me for many more years. You might not have time for a new young wife.”

  “What can you do, life is all about compromise.” Michael kissed me gently and loosened his grip.

  “But at least when we get to a nursing home, I’ll have the nicest boobs.” I turned off the lights and we went upstairs.

  “That’s good. All the other grandpas will be jealous of me.”

  “But I don’t want the kids to know about it. We’ll talk about what we should tell them.”

  “Of course.” Michael was also happy to avoid awkward conversations with the children.

  Although I wasn’t sure he comprehended how important this was, I decided to let it go and allow it to sink in. After all, it would have a small impact on him too.

  After taking a shower I stood in front of the mirror and looked at my body. Before today, I rather liked it. I didn’t love it, but we liked each other a fair amount. But now, I felt my breasts were an enemy that I had to defeat. I wanted to pull them off me that very moment. If it wasn’t this late, I would have called Lisa that very evening. However, I decided to wait for tomorrow. Unfortunately, my breasts weren’t going anywhere.

  Chapter 46

  In the morning, I called Lisa from the parking lot. It wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have at the office.

  Lisa answered immediately, which surprised me. I definitely wasn’t the only person calling her.

  “Good morning, Lisa. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  “Good morning, Shirley. It’s so great to hear from you. Of course you’re not disturbing me.” She was a genuinely nice person, and it wasn’t just her British politeness.

  “I started looking into the breast surgery and wanted to get recommendations for doctors that deal with these issues.”

  “That’s great, excellent choice. Some of the experts working with the foundation are also hospital surgeons, but there are obviously other good doctors. We have a lot of information on our website, as well as on our closed Facebook group. Have you joined it?”

  “Yes, I’ll write there and ask for recommendations.” Before, I was avoiding logging into it. I was afraid of reading scary stories and being even more anxious than I already was. I didn’t want to hear stories from women who had the surger
y before I decided to have it. Maybe because I was scared of the surgery itself. Maybe because I was jealous of their courage. But I didn’t have much of a choice and had to know as much as I could before moving forward.

  “I’m sure you’ll get some names from the group to get you started.”

  “Great, thank you Lisa.” Talking to her helped me relax a bit. It made me feel like I was doing something normal.

  “Are you coming to my Purim get-together?” Lisa would occasionally email me invitations to different events she organized, which I have never attended.

  “Sure, next Thursday at 8, right?” Seeing as I have decided to have the surgery, I should start hearing stories first-hand.

  “Yes, great. I’m glad that you’re coming. I’ll see you then. Have a good day, Shirley.”

  Our conversation gave me strength and I quickly went up to the office. I passed by Dina and got into my office. Anna was already there working on a document, so she casually said ‘good morning’ without even looking up. I immediately logged into the Bracha group and asked about experts for the amputation and reconstruction. I couldn’t believe I was writing these words. It was gradually becoming real.

  I had a hard time focusing. At that moment, I felt as if everyone else had disappeared, and I didn’t actually care how much funding David’s theater would get. But still, I started going over the file and editing the document. Every now and then I checked whether someone had answered my post.

  Only when I came back from my lunch break, did I find a comment from someone named Lia. She recommended someone in Jerusalem. I didn’t want to drive all the way to Jerusalem, let alone have my surgery there. But I thanked her for commenting and kept waiting.

  After an hour, someone named Grace, recommended Dr. Katzman from Tel Aviv. Grace wrote that Dr. Katzman is a plastic surgeon who works with several other surgeons, from which I can choose. Minutes later, I was already talking to his secretary, and with a trembling voice, scheduled a consultation meeting. Worst case scenario, if I change my mind, I can always cancel the appointment.

  When I drove to mom’s that evening, I felt the process had begun. I was afraid of her reaction because she was always in favor of the regular checkups. Once a month she would question me to ensure I wasn’t forgetting to have tumor marker blood tests, and that I had an appointment for my annual MRI. I felt guilty. I could still save myself, she couldn’t. If she wouldn’t have gotten sick, I doubt whether we would even know about the gene. I felt as if she had sacrificed her life for me, which is why I had to do something, and not idly sit by. As if this way, her sacrifice wouldn’t go to waste. But for the most part, I knew that without her support, I wouldn’t be able to go through with it.

  When I got there, their door was open. Gabi was watching TV in the living room. A cup with the grapefruit juice he loved so much (which I thought, tasted more like a detergent than anything else) was placed on the glass side table next to the armchair. He said that mom was in bed, and I rushed to her. On my way I took a spoon from the kitchen so mom could eat her favorite tart that I had picked up from her favorite café. Recently, she gave up her health diet.

  Mom was watching a silly American sitcom and lowered the TV volume when I came in.

  “Hey mom, how are you? Sit up, I brought you a treat.”

  “Thank you, sweetie, you’re spoiling me.” And then she added quietly, “instead of me spoiling you.”

  “Oh, nonsense. Come, I’ll fix your pillow.” I straightened the pillow behind her as she opened the box and savored the fresh raspberries.

  “Delicious.” Mom took a bite, and a small red berry fell and stained the blanket.

  “It’s the best desert ever,” I held the berry and ate it. This time I didn’t get myself anything. I was overexcited and lost my appetite.

  “Where’s Tommy?”

  “He’s out with some friends.”

  “How’s he doing these days? I haven’t spoken to him in ages.” Jonathan kept me in the loop, but whenever I came to visit, he was either away or asleep.

  “He’s trying to shoot a film, that’s what he does all day. It’s driving everyone insane.”

  “I see, I’ll try talking to him.” I paused for a second and then thought this was a good time to bring it up. “I want to tell you something.

  “What?” mom raised her eyes from the tart.

  “I decided to have the breast surgery. I mean, I’m looking into it, but I’m seriously thinking of having it.”

  “Wow, that’s a big decision. What happened?” She went back to eating her desert but occasionally looked up at me.

  “I’m starting to realize that an early diagnosis isn’t enough, and that it can come back – big time. Besides, I have a 90% chance of getting sick, and I would have the surgery in any case. I decided to have it at a time that suits me, and as a preventative measure before I’m actually sick. It puts the odds in my favor, at least I think it does.”

  “Makes sense,” she surprised me and took another bite. Another berry rolled my way. Perhaps it was something that she wanted me to do, but didn’t feel it was her place to say.

  “I made an appointment with a highly-recommended doctor, and I’ll also ask other previvors who had the surgery. It does scare me, but I think it’s the lesser of two evils.”

  “I also think it’s best. Maybe we really shouldn’t rely on these checkups.” She finished eating and placed the empty box on her knees. Her face was smeared with powdered sugar, and she looked like a little girl who had been at a birthday party.

  “I didn’t get a chance to tell you that the Armenian doctor called and said he found breast cancer viruses. That’s also what motivated me to start looking into the surgery. He said that he would give Ian extracts for me. Maybe you should talk to him.” I gave her a tissue and signaled she should clean herself.

  “Start asking around and I’ll talk with Ian tomorrow at the office.” I couldn’t figure out how she was still working.

  Lately, she stopped driving. We thought it was best that she doesn’t sit behind the wheel, considering all the pain killers she was taking. For the past couple of weeks, her employees have been picking her up from home in the morning, and then dropping her off at the end of the day. Sometimes, she couldn’t stay the whole day, but no one cared about how many hours she worked.

  “So, what’s new with the kids? Tell me something nice.” Mom leaned back again and I fluffed her pillow. She was clearly trying to change the subject.

  “Everything is fine. Adam is still struggling in preschool. Thank God it’ll be over in four months. Next year he’ll start first grade and he’s very excited about it.”

  “And what about Ariel? She’s probably running the place by now.” A big smile spread on her face, and her eyes sparkled.

  “She wants to. In the meantime, she’s giving them a hard time because she refuses to nap and all the other kids won’t sleep either. It’s a good thing she’s starting a different daycare next year.”

  “It’s unbelievable how time flies.” The smile wiped off her face and she looked away at the TV.

  “Yes…” I replied, and continued, so that she wouldn’t sink deeper into herself, “and Romy, such a cutie, she’s practically walking. Come, I’ll show you.”

  We sat in bed and watched some video clips together on my phone. Mom was excited and laughed, it seemed to distract her. After a while, I could see she was tired. I was exhausted too. I said goodbye and drove home.

  On my way, I thought I should visit her more often. I don’t know how much time she has left. But then I felt bad for even having these thoughts. Still, I obviously couldn’t ignore the facts. I felt as if I started realizing the reality of the situation. Mom soon won’t be here with me. And me? I had to save myself. That was the way things were and it was time I handled it properly.

  The house was dark and quiet. The kids were a
sleep and Michael was watching TV in the bedroom. While I looked at Ariel sleeping, I wondered if she would even remember my mother.

  Chapter 47

  “Tommy, are you sleeping? Weren’t you supposed to go to work?” It was 11 A.M. and I had already been to two meetings at the office.

  “I’m up…” he answered but sounded half asleep. “I’m not going to work today. I called in sick earlier.”

  “OK, don’t they mind that you’re skipping work?” It’s unbelievable, he found a way out of his one and only responsibility, I thought to myself, but still chose my words carefully.

  “What do you want from me?” he barked at me with anger.

  “I’m just worried that you might lose your job, why are you so angry?” Anna walked in and placed a slice of Dina’s birthday cake on my table. I smiled at her and mouthed ‘thank you’.

  “I’m just tired, Shirley. You might not be aware of what’s going on here at nights, it’s terrible,” Tommy answered sarcastically. Frankly, I had no idea what he was talking about.

  “What’s going on at nights?”

  “Mom keeps going to the bathroom, and then falls down. Every night, again and again. And some nights, more than once. I wake up from the sound of the fall and then wait to hear if dad wakes up,” Tommy replied tiredly.

  “And does he?” One of Gabi’s famous army stories was about the time he didn’t wake up during the War of Attrition, when his station was bombed. But I hoped he could at least hear mom.

  “Eventually he wakes up and helps her. I don’t get much sleep.”

  “If you hear her falling, why don’t you just help her?” I asked, and was pretty surprised that he simply lies there and waits.

  “I don’t want to embarrass her,” he said quietly.

  “I see your point…” I didn’t even know that she was falling this much, and I didn’t think about how this was affecting Tommy. Sometimes, I would forget he was just a kid, a recently-discharged soldier who was living with his dying mother. It was happening right in front of him. He couldn’t avoid it. I could at least look away every now and then, and focus on smaller problems; Ariel ruining Adam’s drawing, Romy refusing to take a pacifier. Normal things, that happen in normal families.