August 1992
By Rabbi Gila Colman Ruskin, Philadelphia, PA
Something felt really uncomfortable. Although my OB-GYN assured me that breast pain is never related to cancer, and although I was only 37 years old, I nudged him enough that he finally ordered a mammogram. A half hour after the mammogram, they called me from the waiting room for a needle biopsy. And there it was. A tumor shaped like twin cherries on a stem. Two weeks later, a mastectomy. And then, weekly chemotherapy appointments for the next six months. And then I was a survivor. That was a long time ago, and with no cancer recurrence. All of us are thriving. The anxiety has faded. But certain memories are so vivid that I can access their intensity at any moment. Here they are in no particular order.
My kids were 13, 11, and 8. And I was determined that this would not impact their day-to-day lives. I was a congregational rabbi and a teacher at a day school, and I was determined that I could continue with those important and fulfilling obligations. I would be Superwoman and Supermom and Superrabbi. Ha.
The cumulative effect of fatigue from chemo was by far the greatest challenge to the above determination. I learned to take a nap every day from noon until 2:00 pm so that I could pick up the carpool, hang out with the kids, help with homework, attend congregational meetings, and have enough energy for meaningful bedtime rituals. Sometimes that worked. Until I ran out of those reserves of energy. And got mouth sores.
I was determined to forge ahead and not to become mired in the medical details. My husband was the one who filed the x-ray films, who read the research about the chemo cocktail, and who recognized that we should probably have a psychotherapist on call.
Good thing he made those arrangements because bang, one day all that planning and determination suddenly hit me and I needed to talk to someone NOW.
Each of my kids reacted differently. The 13 year old son spent lots of time away from our household, with sleepovers, after school playing, and sports games. Your mother’s breast cancer is embarrassing. When I came to his basketball games, he asked me to please wear the wig and to sit as far away from the court as possible. The 8 year old told me that she was scared to invite a friend over because they might catch the cancer. Her experience with illness is that it’s contagious. Of course. Reflecting about that, I am so touched with how much hands-on caring for me she did, when she thought that she could have “caught” it from me. The 11 year old wanted to hear all the details and made special efforts on my chemo days to help out with dinner and laundry. Hopefully I was a good-enough mommy during that time.
My mother was recuperating from surgery herself, and could not come to help after the mastectomy. My father not only came, but surprised us all by rising to the occasion with patience, compassion, and good humor.
Best advice from a rabbinic colleague: get out of town before the surgery. Otherwise, everyone would be calling to check on me and to tell horror stories about cancer.
The night before the surgery, I had an impulse to wade in the ocean at midnight to feel the waves on my breast for the last time. And to sing the Hebrew song Eli, Eli. So glad I gave into that impulse. I would have regretted not having done it. Through the years, I have encouraged and facilitated healing rituals for others.
So many people told me that they were praying for me! Some were devout types, but others were totally unexpected. Showed me that we don’t ever know about people’s spiritual lives.
That realization inspired a great Rosh Hashanah sermon, three days after my first chemo treatment.
The birth of my niece, 2 months into the chemo treatments, brought such a rush of light and hope into my life. I didn’t realize how down I was feeling until I held her for the first time and felt optimistic about the future. I modified my expectations of being supermom and decided to treasure my time with my kids.
Seize the moment! I planned a month-long RV trip out west with my kids and a friend and her kids.
Draw from the wellsprings of gratitude, courage, joy, humility, and compassion all the days of our lives
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rabbi Gila Ruskin is grateful for the fulfilling life of being a rabbi, social justice activist, and mosaic artist. Her artwork reflects her belief in creating wholeness from brokenness. She moved to Philadelphia with Paul, her life partner, three years ago, to be closer to her children and grandchildren. Please feel free to contact her at rabbigilaruskin@gmail.com.