The Breast Defense is a Good Offense: Facing Life and Breast Cancer with an Infusion of Humor and Attitude

PROLOGUE

WHY I WROTE This BOOK

I HAD NO GOALS WHATSOEVER when I began writing this book. In fact, I had no intention of writing a book at all. One evening, however, I was on a business trip and alone in a hotel room in the San Francisco Bay Area. I couldn’t get the TV to work. I have no patience for electronics that do not respond immediately to my coaxing. I was in my jammies, all tucked into bed, and definitely didn’t feel like calling the front desk and having the guy come to my room to help me with the TV. Faced with the intransigent TV, I picked up my laptop, and a few pages of something related to my cancer experience simply poured out of me.

When I read what I’d written the next morning, my first impression was one of dreamlike disconnection, as if I were floating above myself, observing an experience I had not connected with as it unfolded. I showed what I had written to my husband, Bob, who encouraged me to continue. Then I sent it to my sister, Laura, who loved it and offered to be a co-author from the family’s perspective. We even went so far as to plan what we would wear on Oprah. Finally, I sent it to my mom, who cried. Soon after, I was off and running.

Six Things

From that sketchy beginning, a manuscript unfolded. Along the way, some clear goals emerged from the rubble of my words. These goals inspired me to devote hours, days, and weeks to this endeavor. As I discovered in writing this book, I hope to accomplish six things. If I can do that, I’ll be happy with my efforts. Here are the items that made my list:

1.Make one person smile when they least expect it. Cancer is not a topic that evokes smiles; it’s quite the opposite actually. But there can be funny moments or circumstances that lift your spirits and help you through the ordeal. If I can capture just a few of those moments and make you laugh or smile in the midst of a difficult day, I will have accomplished the most important item on my list. But be aware that not all of the book directly relates to my cancer experience. Cancer, in my case (and as I suspect it is in many cases), was a culmination of events and lifestyle choices, some of which you may relate to and some of which you may not. But you may also find some humor in the backstory—I know I have. Frankly, if you haven’t found any humor in your life so far, I offer you mine.

2.Provide a hopeful and positive perspective on what to expect if you are facing a cancer diagnosis. I suspect that many people who have not experienced cancer are unaware of the details of the diagnosis and treatment process. I was in this camp when I was first diagnosed, and it was pretty scary. Even if you are more informed than I was, you may not appreciate what it feels like to live through the experience. In sharing my story, I hope to provide a picture of what to expect and thereby allay some of your fears or concerns.

3.Share some resources that can help you through your treatment. I was often pleasantly surprised at the many perks available to cancer patients. I want you to know right now that there is a ton of information out there (online, at your doctor’s office, and at treatment centers) and countless services to help you through the experience emotionally, financially and physically. I expected that counseling and possibly nutritional advice might be available to me at the cancer center, but I had no idea that there would also be massages, yoga classes, cooking classes for patients and caregivers, and cosmetology sessions. These are only a few of the services offered by either the local cancer center, the American Cancer Society, or other organizations.

Frankly, these resources and benefits are usually offered at a time when you are already overwhelmed, because you have just been told that you have cancer. I know that I never read the handouts I got from the cancer center until I started writing this book. I was actually stunned to find out that a lot of the perks that I stumbled upon when going through my treatment were listed right there.

I hope you will be more receptive to absorbing the available benefits than I was. If not, perhaps my personal narrative will help you. Given the flood of breast-cancer information available on the Internet, I don’t recommend that as a starting point. It’s not that I have anything against online searches. Once you know what’s out there, you’ll be able to seek out the things that make sense for you. You could start with this book and branch out from there.

4.Help others understand the patient’s perspective. I tend to go through life tremendously concerned about saying the wrong thing to someone in a crisis. Consequently, I usually say the wrong thing. Nevertheless, I am hopeful that sharing my experience can help someone close to you—or even a stranger—to say or do the right thing when you need it most.

5.Do a good deed. I plan to donate a portion of any profits from this book to the American Cancer Society and the cancer spa, as I came to know the Gene Upshaw Memorial Tahoe Forest Cancer Center, to help those who need support and care as they face this challenging illness. Prior to my diagnosis, I had a successful career as a lawyer in private practice. When people think of lawyers, giver is probably not the first word that comes to mind. I have done a few charitable deeds along the way, donating legal services, but it probably won’t surprise you to hear that my friends haven’t encouraged me to redo the monograms on my towels to read MT2 for the second coming of Mother Teresa. In other words, it’s time for me to start giving back.

6.Tell my story. Writing this book has been a cathartic experience. I have shared a lot of things beyond the cancer experience itself, though it is not typically in my character to share my true feelings and thoughts. In writing this story, I challenged myself so that I could offer you some hope, a positive outlook, and yes, hopefully, a smile. Maybe this book will inspire you to help a friend or stranger, or they will be inspired to help you. If you have cancer, your cathartic experience might take different forms, such as unloading your fears and challenges with a trained professional, a family member, or a good friend. For me, it was putting pen to paper. At the very least, I hope my story will send you running out the door to get that overdue mammogram. After all, the breast defense is a good offense.

My experience was unique to me. It was the sum of my age, of the totality of my life events prior to cancer, of my environment, and of my family and friends. Yours will be unique to you. I do not expect that your path will mirror mine, nor do I intend to write a prescription for you or to judge your experience. My only hope is that, regardless of how different your story is from mine, this book will uplift your spirits. For many people, their experience has been much worse than mine, and I feel for them each and every step of the way.

One thing we all have in common, though, is that we’re in a situation that can cause a lot of stress and heartache. If you are a cancer patient and need to sob uncontrollably from time to time, there are many valid reasons for that, and I would be the last person to judge you for doing so. I would simply hand you a box of Kleenex so you wouldn’t have to use your sleeve to wipe your red nose, and listen as you ran your makeup with your tears. But when you’re done crying and ready for a smile, dive into this book. I wrote it for you and hope it can offer some comfort as you navigate the road ahead.

Cathy Croshaw

Lake Tahoe, California, August 2019

PART ONE:

The Nudge

CHAPTER 1

LUNCH and THEN SOME

"HEY, HOW’VE YOU BEEN? OH my God, your hair looks great. It’s gotten so long!" said Jenny as we exchanged hugs and assessed one another’s appearance, as only women can do.

Oh, thanks. I just came from my keratin treatment. You’re looking pretty wonderful yourself—did you decide to stop aging? I quipped.

Very funny. It’s probably just that the kids are out of the house and Mike and I can finally live a peaceful existence, not running ragged every minute of our lives.

We had just met up for lunch, and the hostess was showing us to our table. As soon as we were seated, I launched right into nostalgia.

I can’t believe it’s been twenty years, I commented, shaking my head as I looked out the restaurant window at all the kids walking by.

They sauntered out from the high school down the street holding their caramel macchiatos with extra whipped cream. It was midday, and the rest of the pedestrians were primarily well-dressed women with small dogs or women in leggings on the way to yoga. I thought about how much time had gone by since Jenny and I had first met, and how we ended up at this over-privileged mecca on the peninsula just south of San Francisco. Jenny was also staring out the window, waiting anxiously for our Chardonnay to arrive.

I know, she said. So many memories, some good and some bad.

Just a few weeks before my move to Tahoe, I was having lunch at Pizzeria Delfina, the new Italian restaurant in downtown Burlingame, with my dear friend Jenny. The restaurant was packed, and the noise level distracting, but we lucked out and were seated by an open window next to the sidewalk. The noise was less deafening there, and for the most part, we could hear each other. I must have had my hearing aid on that day.

The kids were so cute when they were little, Jenny reminisced, lost in her memories. Scanning the menu, she caught herself and added, I mean they’re beautiful adults now, of course, but that’s a different story. Remember the Fourth of July when Kelly got that new bicycle with pink streamers, and she fell and scraped her knee?

I know, that was a huge setback in her enthusiasm for bike riding. I paused as I tried to decide what to order.

And the neighbors who have come and gone? They say they’ll keep in touch, but they never do, Jenny said as she dabbed at her eyes with her napkin.

Don’t mess with me like that, Jenny. We’re going to keep in touch, aren’t we? I quickly responded, defensively.

Yes, we will. Maybe you can stay at our house when you have to come to San Francisco for business.

I would love that. I can even take care of your screaming cat if you’re not home. Jenny’s cat made the most horrific noise, which sounded a lot like a baby crying or screeching. Not everyone would volunteer for cat-sitting duty. We cracked ourselves up over the cat.

I mean, the Chapmans just disappeared off the map. Let’s make a pact right now that we will not lose track of each other, I added.

Okay, as soon as our wine arrives, we’ll make a toast to that, Jenny agreed, then continued: God, I remember how the Chapmans just couldn’t understand why their son and all his friends would come into the house and eat everything in sight.

Yup, until the lightbulb went on, and they realized the boys were getting high in the backyard first, Jenny snickered.

At this point the tears had dried, and we were both laughing outright. After I caught my breath, I added, And the Gilmores, whose son almost hung up on Harvard admissions because he thought their acceptance call was a prank?

We both giggled over that. It was clear that we were making a fairly decent contribution to the noise level of the restaurant, as several patrons looked our way.

And what about the annual river-rafting trip with dozens of Oakland firefighters and most of our local PTA? Jenny added. What a combo! Those firefighters sure knew their way around a barbecue. And I gotta say, they were so much more fun than the PTA.

I shook my head. Were you there for our first trip, when I slept in the beach chair with Kelly after she puked all over the tent we borrowed?

Jenny cringed at the memory. Oh yeah. I was surprised that you ever came on that trip again. Good times, she said sarcastically.

Soon after, the waiter arrived to take our order. After he left, I narrowed my eyes.

Remember that bitch next door who sued Bob and me for parking on the public street in front of her house? I asked. That was after we caught her husband teaching their son how to pee on our car. We liked to refer to her as Cruella de Vil when we were being nice. If there is such a thing as bad karma, I really don’t want to be her.

Jenny chuckled. Yes, I have tried to forget about her. Last I heard, she moved to San Francisco, and I hope we never see her again.

I’ll second that. But I think, overall, it was a great neighborhood to raise kids, I said. I love that everyone knew each other and watched out for each other’s kids.

Jenny nodded. "I know. It really does take a village."

The sense of community in this neighborhood sometimes made it easy to forget that it was part of a densely populated suburb smack in between San Francisco and Silicon Valley. Just then, our reverie was cut short by the arrival of our salads and, at long last, the Chardonnay.

After the waiter left, Jenny held out her glass, Cheers! Here’s to a lifelong friendship. We clinked glasses, and Jenny headed back down memory lane. Don’t you think, looking back, that it’s amazing to see how the kids turned out?

It’s amazing they all made it through high school, I offered with a sigh of relief.

Jenny nodded, smiling. Who knew that Ren, the prom queen, would go on to be a biochem major at UCSB? We didn’t see that one coming.

And that your daughter, Meghan, the adorable Pippi Longstocking look-alike, would grow into a beautiful woman rocking the flaming red hair? I asked.

Right? Jenny laughed. And weren’t their high school years the scariest thing you’ve ever lived through?

We both grimaced at the thought, me more than Jenny.

Don’t remind me, I said with a pained look on my face. Remember when the drunk kid tried to crash a party at my house by crawling through the doggie door? I asked. He would never have made it past his shoulders, but Kelly thwarted his efforts just as his face peeked through. Then later that night, he ended up naked on your front doorstep? Your kids were so nice to drive him home.

Jenny burst out laughing. Of course, this party had taken place when we were away for the weekend and Kelly was supposedly in the care of another family. But we fell for the classic switcheroo, when one kid says they are staying at a friend’s house, and of course, the friend says they are staying at your house, forgetting to mention that you are out of town. By this time the Chardonnay had kicked in. We were enjoying our pasta and had tears streaming down our faces from our raucous laughter. It was only now, a few years after these events, that we could laugh about them.

Pausing a moment to regain my composure, I added, "Oh, and then there was that wonderful teaching moment when Kelly was picked up by the cops, because she was the one carrying the handle of vodka when they arrived. Before that, Bob and I didn’t even know what a ‘handle’ was. Our children taught us that it’s a bottle of booze so big that it has a built-in handle."

Jenny laughed. I didn’t know what a ‘handle’ was until just now.

Yup, I continued. By the time the kids were in high school, we were learning as much from them as they were from us. We tried to teach them about ‘mixers,’ the alternative to guzzling straight alcohol. They claimed they couldn’t afford mixers. But, of course, they could afford the handle of vodka. We even offered to spring for the orange juice or tonic water ourselves! By that point, we were so worn down by all the teenage shenanigans that once the cops had released Kelly into our custody, we could only manage to say, ‘Promise us you won’t be the one holding the bottle when the cops arrive next time, okay?’ We were certain that the local police force referred to us on a first-name basis by then.

Jenny chuckled and took a deep breath. Like everyone says, it goes so quickly.

I nodded.

I can’t believe you’re leaving, she said. What’s your moving date?

In a couple of weeks. It’s getting close.

Jenny shifted in her seat and turned serious. I know this is going to sound weird, but are you current on your mammograms?

Yes, I thought, that is a bizarre transition. What would possess her to think of that in the middle of a fun lunch? I decided to just go with the flow and said: "Nah, I’m a couple