Been Gone, Too Long

Eek!  I realize it's been since July 4 since I posted. The summer flew by in a whirl of preparation for the school year, combined with some teaching of the rabbi's and cantor's students and my adult students who continue to want to learn!

Tonight's post is pretty specific.  Tonight I spoke at our Breast Cancer Awareness Shabbat and below is what I said.  (The last "prayer" section a bunch of us, survivors, family, and friends said together from the bimah.)  I thought I was going to be really nervous, but it turns out that it's easier to speak your own words than chant Torah or read prayers!

Shabbat Shalom

I know that breast cancer is not only a women’s issue; as a matter of fact, my sons’ school principal Bill Bruterri was diagnosed and treated many years ago.  However, tonight I am speaking on behalf of myself and all of the women I know, and the women you know, and the millions we don’t know, who are affected by this modern plague.  

 If you watch a lot of reality television, the word “survivor” might bring to mind tanned, muscular men and women wearing  shmatas and not much else on some godforsaken island fighting over who gets to stay there.  But those folks don’t deserve the title.  That word, survivor, is better saved for all of the women who are or were in treatment for breast cancer.   It even applies to those who had a “close call” and are now forever on the alert - and are, whether they like it or not, a part of this club that none of us would choose to be a member of. We know more than we’d ever thought, and yet never enough, about testing, and surgery, and treatment options.  We know which of our friends faint at the sight of blood but make a mean chicken soup, and which of our family members will take the most accurate notes at the doctor’s office.  On any given day, one of us is carting around films and test results in giant overstuffed folders. We are prepared, we, the “Sisterhood of the Traveling Mammograms.”

  When I was diagnosed in the spring of 2010, I asked my friend Nancy Levene, who you heard speak so eloquently on Erev Rosh HaShanah, “When do you start counting the days for the five years? (meaning, so that you consider yourself a survivor?)”;  She answered, “the day you are diagnosed.”;  She’s right, you know.  You never hear about “breast cancer sufferers” or “the breast cancer afflicted” or even “breast cancer patient” (unless you are at the hospital or a doctor’s office.)  You only hear “breast cancer survivor.”

 We have now reached day 21 of Breast Cancer Awareness month, and for these 3 weeks every news and talk show has hosted experts with advice, facts, and figures on fighting and/or avoiding this disease.  Those numbers aren’t important to us.  Like it or not, the number that matters to us is ONE.  I am the one with breast cancer, she is the one with breast cancer, her friend is the one with breast cancer, her mother is the one with breast cancer.  We are the one we worry about. When we hear our tradition say: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?” breast cancer survivors know that means it is okay to be selfish, to be taken care of, even though, or maybe especially because, we are used to being the caregivers ourselves.  And it means it’s okay to struggle with being unclear about doing or not doing things. It gives us the permission to keep moving forward, to keep asking questions that will help us understand - to try to hold onto some semblance of control over what happens to us.

 However, our tradition also teaches: “If I am only for myself, who am I?” After our silent prayer tonight, and then at the end of the service, we will sing a song by Dan Nichols, called “Chazak.” The chorus in particular felt appropriate to me because it speaks to us as individuals, but it reminds us that we must be not only for ourselves.  We must, as the chorus says, “be strong – let us strengthen one another; be strong, let us celebrate our lives; be strong, let us strengthen one another; chazak, chazak, v’nit’chazeik.”;  In order to continue to be there for each other in a more formalized way, a group of us would like to start a breast cancer support community here at Beth Haverim Shir Shalom.  We know that we want to meet monthly, and we’d love to start in November.  Please let me know if you would like to be a part of that group.  We will not be giving out medical advice, but we do plan to share our stories and compare notes, talking together and gaining strength from each other’s experiences.

As is customary in this wonderful community of caring, we offer prayers of well-being for each other, and receive blessings in return.  I would like to invite anyone here tonight whose life has been touched by breast cancer, whether you are a survivor, a caretaker, a family member, or a friend, to join us here on the bimah.

 Tonight we pledge our support to you, everyone who survives with breast cancer; tonight we thank you the caregivers – the family, the friends, and the co-workers who offer meals and childcare and driving and flowers and gifts and lovely notes and funny cards and telephone calls.

 

Oh God, as we offer this prayer as individuals but all together, may we be strengthened by the voices of those around us.

We pray for high numbers where they should be high, and low numbers when they should be low.

We pray for peace for the families and friends of those who have not survived; we pray that their memories live as a blessing.

We pray for wisdom, skill, and compassion in our medical professionals.

We give thanks for supportive spouses, helpful children, wise parents, and understanding friends.

We pray for patience enough not to become discouraged, hope enough to overcome all fears for the future, and faith enough to know Your Presence.

And, as we move forward into the rest of our lives, we pray that pink will someday return to being merely a color in this amazing world we are lucky to be a part of.

Chazak, Chazak, v’nit’cha-zeik.  Be strong, be strong, and let us be strengthened.

Amen.

Pink Oneg!

Pink Pumpkins by Nancy Levene :)