20 Thoughts About My Wife’s Breast Cancer

My wife has breast cancer.

Specifically, stage 2 triple-negative invasive ductal carcinoma, poorly differentiated, with focal possible metaplastic changes.

These are the things you learn about when someone you love gets cancer.

I considered doing a podcast to talk about this but since there’s a 100% chance of me crying, I’m sticking with what I’ve done for over 20 years: writing down my thoughts.

They’re a little jumbled right now, so I’m going to put them in a list instead of spending hours trying to make it flow into coherent paragraphs:

  1. Before this happened, my marriage was as good as it’s ever been. After nearly 17 years, we have great communication and understanding, we don’t try to change each other, we have tons of quality time together and with our kids, and I can’t even remember the last time we had anything resembling a fight.
  2. Both my Mom’s partner and my sister got Stage 1 breast cancer and went through radiation earlier this year, so we were pretty even-keeled after the initial diagnosis three weeks ago.
  3. The game changer was when we learned the results of the biopsy, which indicated that this is an aggressive form of cancer, which often leads to a double mastectomy.
  4. The kids have been surprisingly strong. This may be the first bad news they’ve ever gotten. I think the fact that my wife is a sunny person helps a lot.
  5. While I’m worried for my wife’s life, she seems more upset at other things: this is going to ruin our summer vacation, she will likely lose her hair before our son’s bar mitzvah in October, she really likes her breasts and does not want to lose them.
  6. My wife was very concerned about telling her inner circle before word got out. Evidently, one of the worst things would be if a friend heard through the grapevine without hearing it directly from her. I do not operate this way.
  7. I thought of not saying anything at all publicly until this was over. The reason I chose to post it on my private Facebook page is that we were looking for doctors to offer us second opinions, and we didn’t know any doctors.
  8. It was beautiful to see how many people wanted to help. People I met once twenty years ago. Friends from elementary school. Ex-girlfriends. Amazing.
  9. I started a Google Doc with over 50 cancer specialists in Los Angeles, some of whom were recommended by 6 or 7 women. It’s alarming how common breast cancer is. I’m already worried for my daughter.
  10. My inclination is to dedicate all my non-working time to this, which isn’t healthy, but it’s how I roll. My wife’s inclination is to pack in all the fun she can possibly have before the bad stuff happens. She hosted three parties in the past 10 days and we went wine tasting this past weekend. Combined, I think we have the right approach.
  11. The beginning of this journey is overwhelming. So many friends, so many opinions, so many doctors, so much terminology, so many contradictions, so little certainty.
  12. We’re both having trouble sleeping – both getting to sleep and staying asleep. The second we recognize we’re awake, the C-word comes roaring back into consciousness.
  13. A few people have asked me how I’m doing, which is unexpected, but nice.
  14. We can’t plan for anything. We don’t know how she’ll recover from surgery, what the analysis of the cancerous tissue will reveal, what kind of treatment is necessary, who is providing services, how we’re going to pay for it, whether more surgeries will be required, and how long this is going to play out.
  15. I’m a little afraid of what happens when my wife is in chemo and I have to take care of everything myself – not just paying the bills but driving the kids, buying food, cooking dinner, taking care of my wife’s needs. Happy marriage has spoiled me.
  16. Also: single parents have the toughest job in the world.
  17. We have a family saying: “It’s a bad day, not a bad life.” We are modifying that to read, “It’s gonna be a bad year, not a bad life.”
  18. While this is rough, we have a ton of support, and my wife and I remain in the luckiest 99th percentile of all people.
  19. We’re so grateful to have each other. We’re so grateful to have you.
  20. We’re gonna beat this thing!

Love,

Evan

 

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