I wonder, how many people in the world have a true understanding of what it means to possess infallible inner strength. And no, I do not mean the population who purports [over my loud cries of bullshit] to never know fear, anxiety, or sadness – you know those who skip through life’s hard knocks all la di da “I live in the moment, and do not question or ask for more.” Rather, I mean the old and wise souls who just “get it” and “do it” relishing in the good and taking on adversity and challenge with honesty, integrity, class, and always dominant steely resolve.

I am sorry to say, yet another friend from my “inner circle” has been diagnosed with breast cancer.  If you are keeping score, that is too damn many.

A very hard one for me personally.  Looking at her, is looking in the mirror.  Her family, her husband, their baby sons, our professional and personal relationship.  It hits too close to home.  It angers me that we have not solved this breast cancer problem.  It crushes me that another family [let alone one that I adore] has to go through this ordeal.   I am sure I should be tougher [though thankfully not complacent] by now, but her tragedy is a renewed punch deep in my gut.  There is the part of me that refuses to “live in the pink,” and wants to ban the word cancer while erasing the entire experience from my mind forever [then again, that might put the makers of Ativan out of business, and I am all for economic recovery not to mention my own sleep filled nights].  Though the better part of me, driven by my inner strength, understands that this post-cancer experience is also part of my journey.  If I can help another woman with my words, my experience, my [increasingly strong] shoulder, my love, or my knowledge than I can not, I will not, turn away.  While I wish for cancer to be limited to being a detail of my past, it is not.  It is a detail of my life and I am beginning to understand that, that is OK. It is part of my journey – my burden and I shudder to admit, now my joy – to be lucky enough to give comfort to someone else.

Indulge me if you will.  I write today from 37,000 feet in the air en route to a week long ski trip with my family and dear friends.  I feel the too familiar tears sting my eyes as I write, but these are happy and content tears.  I reflect on the many years we have made this trip.  And in the past year how far I have come. Last year I was just sprouting my first new hairs after completing the harshest part of my treatment and this year I confidently sport a [small but mighty] ponytail.  I feel great and am doing great.  I am strong, I am blessed, I am back to living my life…my way.  But my friend is having a port inserted today so she can begin the life saving chemo she needs while her precious husband sits lovingly and so uneasily in the waiting room and their young sons have a regular day not realizing that a monster has invaded their lives.  Please do not misunderstand, like my mine, thank g-d, her journey will be harder than words can do justice, but she will do it with grace and survive.  Her prognosis excellent and her cure already in process.  I just wish she did not have to go through it.  I am lucky enough that she allowed me to read a letter she penned.  I am now entrusting all of you with it.

These are the gut wrenching words of a wise and soulful person who possesses that rare and beautiful inner strength.  The words of a new warrior fighting for her future.  They are honest even if raw, they are real, and they typify the remarkable woman she is.  The kind of woman who will beat the monster like those of us who crawled this path before her.  THESE are Rachel’s words.

“Dear Family,

I am writing to you today to give you some serious and personal news. 

I found a lump in my right breast two weeks ago Saturday.  After a visit to my OB’s office, I was sent to the Women’s Diagnostic center for an ultrasound.  A week later, I had a breast biopsy followed by a mammogram.  This past Friday, I was told that my biopsy revealed that I have breast cancer.

The good news is that the tumor is on the smaller side, giving me an initial diagnosis of stage 2 cancer. This is very beatable! Every doctor I have visited is confident that in 6 months from now, I will be healthy, happy, and cancer free.

While I would not say that I am blessed to have breast cancer, as a person who has breast cancer I can say I am blessed to be part of the Temple Beth Am community.  While I have only known for 5 days, in that time, I have been completely taken care of.  I will not share names as I have not asked permission, but my oncologist, a congregant, has literally done everything he can to move things along as fast and as wisely as possible.  Two recent breast cancer survivors have taken me under their wings and been there for me at my doctors’ appointments to explain to me what everything means.  From sharing their stories, to buying pastries for the nurses on behalf – I am so grateful.  The clergy and staff here have been so amazing and supportive.  The board has assured me that my health comes first and I truly feel support from all directions.

As long as I feel healthy, I will be starting chemo on Tuesday.  I will continue treatment for up to six months.  At that time I will have surgery and will get my clean bill of health.

Everything has happened very fast.  I still have not found the time to tell my closest and oldest friends so please do not be offended that I did not contact you personally.  That being said, I have always had a lot on my plate with being a wife, mother, daughter, friend, Rabbi, and Jewish Life Coordinator.  This takes priority right now.  I hope to still fill all of these roles, but there are going to be times when I cannot.  I apologize in advance.

I know a lot of you are going to want to reach out to me. I feel your love and support already. It’s hard for me to accept help, but I am doing it.  I know this congregation, and know that it is full of smart, loving, wonderful people who do and will take good care of me. Right now, I am having trouble finding the time to do any of my normal functions.  I can only imagine how much harder it will be once chemo starts.  So, please know that your calls and emails are very appreciated, but that I cannot respond to them all. The best way to support me and my family right now is to pray for my health.  (My Hebrew name is Rachel Gittle bat Yoheved.)

Also, I am a mushy person.  I love hugs and kisses, however, I need to avoid being sick while on chemo.  For right now, my doctors have told me no hugs and kisses, lots of washing of the hands, etc.

Passover starts on Monday.  We are all supposed to see ourselves as if we were slaves in Egypt – Mitzrayim.  Mitzrayim can be a metaphor – it means narrow place.  That’s where I am right now.

My doctor is my Moses, ready to send plagues galore that will hurt this Pharaoh of a tumor who thinks he can limit me, hurt me, destroy me.  Unfortunately, the plagues hurt, not only Pharaoh, but all of Egypt: the people, land, and environment.  Chemo will hurt the good cells too.  I will get weaker, I will feel pretty bad at times, I will lose my hair and suffer side effects – but I will survive. Not only do I have Moses, I have Aaron – people who are serving as my mouthpiece, who know what questions to ask, what to say, who can explain to me and others what is going on, who are physically leading me along the way.

Passover is the story of the Jewish people.  Passover is my story.

I am excited to start the journey to my liberation.

Thank you for your love and prayers.  Hag Sameach.

Sincerely,

Rabbi Rachel Greengrass”

Today I am grateful for my inner strength, and especially grateful for my three boys who sustain me.  I hope that Rachel similarly sees my reflection in the mirror and knows with certainty that she too can do this and will be OK.

I, in equal parts, want to protect her like a younger sister, support her out of respect for our professional work together, and guide her as she has me for so long as my Rabbi.  Rachel, your words and wisdom are as beautiful as you, thank you for being willing to share them with us.

My friend, you may be in a frightened and narrow place, but your plight to freedom and the width of your brilliant future will be lined with the same protection, respect, and wisdom you so selflessly gift to others every day.  Lined with your adoring family.  Lined by your friends who will stand with you no matter what.  That is a lot of good to take with you on your journey…but most importantly, your liberation will come because of your amazing inner strength.

Much love,

jodi alison