Dear Friends --
Some of the moms who pop into this post might know of a little phenomenon when you're pregnant -- it turns out that when you're expecting you find yourself wondering about other famous ladies who might be pregnant as the same time as you. Then for well, for forever I think, you find yourself cosmically connected to these ladies you'll never actually meet. But you know that from here on out you'll share a kiddo the same age in common.
It turns out that Catherine Zeta-Jones and I both had a baby in April 2003. Every once in a while I wonder how she's doing with her 17 year old. Surely I'm not the only mom who does this.
Anyhow, I've learned the same principle applies to colon cancer. I've wondered for more minutes than I ought to admit who else might be climbing a similar mountain, or maybe completed their climb. There are quite a few of us -- did we all know that one in 20 good souls will get colon cancer? Bananas. I know. I didn't either.
You can't help but wonder: do we share some things in common? Did we eat the same foods when we were in high school? Do we have similar taste in shoes? Share a love of common books that have changed our lives?
You let your mind wander down this rabbit hole and there's simply no telling how far you'll end up googling. But every once in a while you discover a sister who becomes forever your ally, a whisperer of sorts who knows your trail.
My two favorites are Audrey Hepburn and Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Can you imagine being in a club with the two of them? It's almost worth getting Stage IV colon cancer. Almost.
Audrey once said this: "For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone."
I read that a few weeks ago and smiled thinking that Audrey would have so crushed our 40 Days of Beauty Challenge back during Lent. But my favorite bit is the notion of poise by walking with the confidence that you're never alone.
These pandemic days, most of my doctor's appointments happen solo, so I often stroll into clinics and hospitals alone. And when I do, I think of my sister Audrey. I smile through my mask, straighten up just the slightest, and remember that I'm surrounded in love. I'm not sure I'll ever be as poised as Audrey, but there are days when I think she might be walking right alongside me.
Ruth once said this: "My mother told me to be a lady. And for her, that meant be your own person, be independent." At first skim, these words from Ruth's mom might feel basic, or even obvious. But I think what she was truly telling her young Ruth was to navigate her life with an uncanny kind of bravery. Being independent means taking risks, and stepping into the unknown. It means writing the most gorgeous dissents that will endure, providing lampposts for our future paths. Is there anything more ladylike than that?
Both Audrey and Ruth sat in doctor's offices like mine and heard similar conversations about CEA scores, and scans, and drug therapies, and how to think about time and the future. They both had two children they were lucky enough to raise into adulthood. I bet they both took naps at the strangest times of the day. They both had impeccable style. And they both changed the world.
They also each encountered terrible traumas. Audrey was a refugee during WWII and lost family members who were part of the Dutch resistance. Ruth lost her husband to cancer, and battled multiple forms of cancer for more than 20 years. She probably knew dozens of radiologists and oncology nurses by their first names.
They both had long talks with their doctors. Like I did today.
I met with Dr. Ko up at UCSF to review my case, and to discuss the complex topic about how to think about the long-term and the pros and cons of my current chemo maintenance. I walked into the reception with Audrey's poise, and litigated the case with as much ladylike independence as I could summon, inspired by my sister Ruth.
Ko and I decided the path will be to continue my current Xeloda routine until the November scans. If those continue to be stable, we agreed that will be a time to take a break, and give me a chance to truly regain my health, before whatever comes next. Audrey and Ruth likely had conversations like the one I had today, weighing all kinds of the biggest "what if" questions. What if I stop and the cancer comes back? What if I continue but the drug diminishes my health?
We're into the most subjective part of the mountain these days. Which trailhead is the right one? What does that literature tell us? The truth of the matter is that no one actually knows. All we know are little hints from the data, coupled with my own stirring convictions.
But what I do know for sure is that I have two sisters who lived their lives as fully, as beautifully, and as bravely as they could, through the awful days, and the days of accolades. They left a trail for me to follow, guarded by wildflowers and redwoods, and places to pause to see ever more, higher and higher up.
Each step higher. Each step in a good and true direction. That is what it is to live. Poised, and ladylike.
xoxo