Right There Beside You

We're always assuring you - our Team Sharsheret athletes - that we're cheering you on to the finish line. This year, our cheers may sound a bit louder. Ellen, Elana and I will share a relay spot, and Rebecca of our staff will compete in the Triathlon this Sunday. Literally and figuratively, we are doing this together - raising awareness about breast cancer in the Jewish community and welcoming hundreds of new friends to the Sharsheret family. We are grateful that you've chosen to be a part of our Team, and even more grateful that you've chosen to be a part of our mission. On Sunday, when you look around and marvel at all that you've accomplished through training, I hope our thanks, and the gratitude of the thousands of women and families we are blessed to serve, gives you that added push to the finish line. We're cheering you on. And we're right there beside you.

With deep thanks,
Rochelle

Take on our 10-day challenge!

Only 10 days until the New York City Triathlon and our staff members Rochelle, Elana, and Ellen are ready to take on the triathlon as a relay team if YOU can help us get 1,000 new Facebook fans! Tell your friends to "like" our page – www.facebook.com/sharsheret.org - and post your name on our wall as the person who referred them and not only will you and one lucky friend be eligible to win an iTunes gift card, but Elana will swim in the Hudson, Rochelle will ride her bike on the West Side Highway, and Ellen will lace up her sneakers and cross the finish line in Central Park next Sunday!  We're ready to take on the 10-day challenge - are you?!?

Helping Us Help You

By: Ruthie Arbit, Sema Heller Netivot Shalom Summer Intern

After 10 weeks of interning at Sharsheret, I can safely say that I went from a state of bewilderment from when I initially heard about Sharsheret in April to a state of admiration. Then, I was struck by the cause; I didn’t know that breast cancer and ovarian cancer were Jewish issues and I wondered what Sharsheret was doing to help Jewish women facing these illnesses. Now, I am in awe as I think about the callers, the peer supporters, and the volunteers who help us at Sharsheret do what we do.

The Sharsheret office is an incredible place. On any given day there is a string of devoted volunteers popping in and out, Team Sharsheret athletes coming in to meet with the staff, and the daily visit by the postman who picks up packages filled with hundreds of breast cancer and ovarian cancer brochures to be delivered to women and families, health care professionals, conferences, and Jewish organizations nationwide. Add all of this to the hard work that the dedicated staff at Sharsheret puts in – providing emotional support to women living with cancer and their families, answering countless questions from health care professionals about the unique needs of their Jewish patients, planning outreach events to spread the word about Sharsheret’s programs and services, coordinating medical symposia, and processing generous contributions from donors. It’s no surprise then that after only 10 years since its inception, Sharsheret has become an esteemed national organization with 11 programs, more than 1,200 peer supporters, and thousands of volunteers and supporters.

However, what impresses me most about Sharsheret are the women. The women who call Sharsheret for support as they ponder the potentially life-changing decision of whether or not to undergo genetic testing, the women who have just finished their final round of chemo and are already volunteering to be peer supporters, and those who are living with metastatic cancer and finding value in every day moments.

All of these women amaze me.

So, as I near the end of my internship, I want to say thank you to the women whose strength fuels the energy of Sharsheret. I am sure that this won’t be the last time I will be surprised by the amazing work of Sharsheret, its staff, and its women. Although my internship is ending, my connection to Sharsheret will remain strong. I look forward to joining Sharsheret’s volunteer force and contributing my time and skills to this wonderful organization.

Want To Run The ING NYC Marathon?

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ING NYC MARATHON ON

NOVEMBER 6, 2011?

TEAM SHARSHERET HAS SLOTS!

E-mail athletes@sharsheret.org to apply for your slot today and include your name, phone number, and a brief description of yourself and why you want to join Team Sharsheret.

For more information, visit Team Sharsheret 2011 ING NYC Marathon.

Help us reach family and friends!

Looking forward to welcoming you to Team Sharsheret.

A New Take On The Four Passover Questions

By: Shera Dubitsky, Sharsheret Clinical Supervisor

In just a few days, Jews all over the world will participate in the Passover Seder. We will read from the same text, engage in many of the same rituals. Yet each Seder is unique. Every family brings its own traditions to the Seder, how they prepare, who hosts, who takes the lead, and who will clean up the next morning after only a few hours of sleep.

Individually, our Seder experience changes year to year. It is quite amazing how I can read the same story over and over again, yet each repetition highlights different aspects of the story depending on what’s going on in my life at the time. Perhaps this is why we are directed to read this story annually. We are challenged to find new meaning and garner new strength to guide us along the varying milestones of the journey, bringing us out of uncertainty to seder (order).

I imagine that for those of you, like me, who have a family history of cancer, you may relate to those Jews who were debating whether or not to leave Egypt. “Is this a journey that is necessary for me to take or will I be safe enough here?”

For those of you who are diagnosed with breast cancer or ovarian cancer, perhaps you connect with the people who felt rushed to make a decision with limited information and time to prepare as they embarked on their journey to the unknown. “I know that my well-being is in jeopardy in this moment. I am tired. I am scared. How should I push forward?”

Many people who left Egypt survived the splitting of the sea, wandering in the wilderness, and the anticipation of the journey into Canaan, wondered about the challenges ahead. Perhaps their story resonates with those of you who are post-treatment. “I am in awe of everything that I have survived to this point. I have learned so much about myself and my family and friends, but there is that little voice whispering in my ear, what lies ahead for me?”

Family members who have a loved one living with breast or ovarian cancer may relate to Moses’ family, who played an active role in the Passover story. “How can I best support my loved one?”

These Four Questions are just a sampling of the questions we hear at Sharsheret on a daily basis. We receive calls from women differing in age and cultural background. Women call us at varying junctures along their breast cancer or ovarian cancer journey. Although each individual and each family will have its own approach to coping and navigating this journey, Sharsheret is here to help provide seder (order), to share information, and to offer support along the way. As you continue to revisit the Passover story, we encourage you to revisit Sharsheret along your journey. Here you will find renewed meaning and renewed hope.

My Breast Cancer Journey

By: Evie Kaplan Downing of Wilmington, Delaware, Sharsheret Caller

My journey with breast cancer began on Mother’s Day 2009. I was 28-years-old. While breastfeeding my 21-month-old son, I noticed that my right breast hurt. Instead of feeling the small, firm spot signaling a clogged duct that I expected to find, I felt a much larger lump. I immediately made an appointment with my doctor who was, thankfully, able to see me that day. After she examined my breast, she assured me that she didn’t think the lump was cancerous. Just to be safe, she wanted me to have an ultrasound and a mammogram and probably a biopsy too, but she didn’t think I had anything to worry about. I went for my mammogram a few days later feeling lighthearted and unconcerned. I thought nothing of it when the technician told me that the radiologist needed to speak with me. He explained that my right breast showed large calcium deposits that were “consistent with carcinoma.” Before I knew it, I had an appointment with a breast surgeon. A biopsy showed that the tumor was, indeed, cancerous. I had a lumpectomy and 16 cancerous lymph nodes removed, and then learned I would need a mastectomy. I met with an oncologist who suggested I have genetic testing done because I am of Ashkenazi descent and was diagnosed at such a young age. At the time, I had no idea that being an Ashkenazi Jew put me at higher risk. The test showed that I was BRCA2 positive, so I opted for a bilateral mastectomy. The mastectomy was followed by 5 months of chemotherapy and 4 weeks of radiation, as well as breast reconstruction with expanders followed by silicone implants.

My involvement with Sharsheret began when my mother suggested that I call. I was really touched by how much the clinical staff cared about my well-being. They set me up with a peer supporter who had also been diagnosed while she was still breastfeeding, but at the time, I was still in too much shock over my diagnosis to make the call. After I completed most of my treatment, I began thinking about how I would have to put off having more children and found it very upsetting. Sharsheret set me up with another peer supporter. I realized that I’m not quite ready to face delayed childbearing head-on, but it is comforting to know that when I am ready, there is someone there for me to speak with who has been through this as well. This past December I participated in Sharsheret’s teleconference on prophylactic surgery for breast and ovarian cancer. I found it reassuring to hear women who had undergone prophylactic surgery speak about the pros and cons and about how it had affected them. The teleconference also answered several questions I had about having an oophorectomy.

I will be taking medication for the next five years. I will consider having an oophorectomy before I turn 40 because of my increased risk of ovarian cancer. At the same time, I learned that I am a whole lot stronger than I knew. I learned what an amazing group of friends I have. My husband and I realized how much we really mean to each other and that we really do want to spend the rest of our lives together. It has not been an easy journey, but I have learned a lot about myself and the world. I would never wish breast cancer on anyone, but I would also never take back my experience.

Pregnant With Breast Cancer

By: Michelle Rosch of Naperville, Illinois, Sharsheret Peer Supporter

On February 18th, 2008, two weeks after my 27th birthday and eight months into my first pregnancy, I was diagnosed with Stage III breast cancer. Due to the aggressive nature of my cancer, I delivered my son, Aiden, a month early and had a double mastectomy with reconstruction one week later. The doctors informed me that I was estrogen positive and would risk the cancer returning if I had any more children. My wonderful sister-in-law, April, offered to carry my next child, so I immediately started receiving daily hormone shots to harvest my eggs starting a week after my surgery with just three weeks to finish the process before I started chemotherapy.

During the summer of 2008, I received six chemotherapy treatments every three weeks for four months. After 18 days I started losing my hair, so my husband, Mike, and I decided to shave our heads. I shaved his head and he shaved mine. We actually laughed and had a fun time doing it! I bought a few wigs but only wore them for weddings. I was most comfortable wearing a cute scarf, especially since it was so hot outside. After chemo, I had 7 weeks of daily radiation. The radiation made me feel tired and my skin felt like I had a bad sunburn, but it was very tolerable compared to the side-effects of chemo.

As 2009 began, I had a preventive hysterectomy and had my first breast reconstruction surgery 3 weeks later - all before Aiden's first birthday. I accomplished so much in a year and it felt nice for the first time to view myself as a strong and brave person. I especially loved my new short hairstyle! Over the next year I had my last reconstructive surgeries and here I am today, 3 years later. I'm healthy, happy, feeling great, and loving life!

The most important thing for me to do is give back and make a difference in the lives of other women living with breast cancer. Volunteering for Sharsheret as a peer supporter has been such a positive part of my life. I remember what a difference it made for me to have support from other young survivors and I am happy to give back in any way I can.

Breast Cancer For My 26th Birthday

By: Shira Gross of New York City, Sharsheret Caller
 
On the drive back to Manhattan after an incredible birthday getaway weekend, I received a phone call that would change my life forever. “Your pathology came back positive for Invasive Ductile Carcinoma.” I was diagnosed with breast cancer on my 26th birthday.

That following week was a blur comprised of doctor shopping, crying, reading scary things online, questioning my faith, etc. Before I had a second to breathe, I was at the hospital getting a core guided MRI biopsy of two other “questionable” lumps in both breasts. In my periphery I see the stoic and stoney-eyed technician who immediately became sympathetic when I started to cry. She asked me, "Are you familiar with King Solomon?" She then shared with me a snippet from his life. He wore a ring that said, “this, too, shall pass” and he would look to his ring during tough times. She told me to be brave like King Solomon and that I would get through this.

“This, too, shall pass” really became a mantra for me throughout this experience – despite how cliché it sounded at the time. I knew I would get through my lumpectomy and return to work just a few days later. I knew I would get through four rounds of chemo and losing my hair and social life, and now I’m even able to go out in my wig and still get approached at a bar and I got promoted at work! And ultimately, after having a change of heart, I knew I would get through my bi-lateral mastectomy and somehow resort back to a somewhat normal life.

I am very grateful for finding Sharsheret and being connected with a peer supporter who I can call with any questions. As a young woman with breast cancer, there were many issues that I faced that I did not feel comfortable speaking about with most people. Fortunately, Sharsheret introduced me to another young woman who provided me with incredible support.

I thank G-d that I caught this myself so early and that I am a survivor! Sometimes we get caught up in challenges and cannot see through, but we can draw strength from knowing that “this, too, shall pass.”

Facing breast cancer at 36…now what?

By: Pamela Wolfe, Sharsheret Peer Supporter

Every day for the past two and a half years, breast cancer has been a part of my life. It is a subject I live and breathe, and on any occasion, I’ll gladly try to educate others or answer questions. It is a subject I feel very knowledgeable about since I took the crash course, “So you are 36 and have breast cancer….now what?” I was very lucky though, because I had fantastic friends and family who held me up and helped me through my personal battle.

When my Hadassah chapter asked me to share my experience as a young Jewish woman with breast cancer at a local event, I happily accepted, eager to speak about a disease I feel I can’t do enough about. I was asked to highlight 5 unique things I learned that others might not know, which made me question what was unique about my experience? Doesn’t every woman know about breast cancer? It made me realize that while most women do know about breast cancer, they probably don’t know about the challenges faced by a 36 year-old woman who didn’t want to be treated like she was diagnosed at 65, who still had a dream of starting a family someday, and who chose not to do chemo in favor a new treatment protocol.

I shared the intimate details of my ”new” world, one where I take pills in the morning that have life-altering side effects, but are the key to sustaining my life. For me, it is life. For the people listening, it is a side of breast cancer they never knew about. I have had the honor of being part of Sharsheret’s Link Program and using my personal experience to help other young Jewish women facing breast cancer. I am one of the truly blessed ones. I am fighting and surviving. I feel as if the reason I am still here, alive today, is to do just what I have done: educate women, raise awareness, and help others fight the fight.

Watch an exclusive interview with Team Sharsheret Triathlete Linda Gerstel on Fox 5 NY!

I Took My Dog for a Walk and Came Home with Breast Cancer

By: Diana Abehssera
Sharsheret Link

"If you asked me what I came into this world to do, I will tell you: I CAME TO LIVE OUT LOUD."
- Emile Zola

Shortly after my cancer diagnosis, I began to receive good-hearted advice from my family and friends. They all wanted me to go to a support group, to reach out to people who were going through the same plight. Why? Because my circle could not relate to me, they did not think they could comfort me or support me like those with cancer could. After all, how many 32 year-olds do you know with Stage III breast cancer? I was the only one that I, myself, knew and I wanted to keep it that way.
For me, I knew that it was critical to keep going at the same pace. My strength came from the living, so at each chemotherapy session, I would sit with friends who all took time from their busy schedules to join me for a round of infusion, cupcakes, funny stories, and lots of laughs. We would laugh so hard and so loud that I remember saying one time, “Guys, we have to be a little quieter, there are sick people here.” Honestly, it was only when they stopped laughing and looked at me that I realized I was one of those sick people.
It was time to reach out for help when I knew that a double radical mastectomy was the next course on the menu to health. I became desperate to speak to someone who could help me accept the surgery as treatment and understand what life would be like afterwards. It was then that I reached out to Sharsheret and spoke to a clear-minded, sympathetic, and strong-willed Clinical Supervisor, Shera Dubitsky. In one swift month leading up to my surgery, I was able to grasp the concept of my illness and finally understand that I was, in fact, sick and needed this surgery and subsequent treatment to survive. With Shera, I was able to speak about G-d, not speak about G-d, to cry, to laugh, to grieve, to accept, to move on, to learn to be happy with my “new normal” self. Reaching out to Sharsheret was one of the most rewarding experiences I had, and I cherish the generosity and kindness that I received. It was the only organization I contacted, and for me, luckily and gratefully, it was the right one.

My story goes something like this: I took my dog for a walk one beautiful August day and came home with breast cancer. Yep, that's exactly what happened. I was living my life, getting ready to go out of the country for business, and then…BOOM! Bella, my dog, tugged sharply on my arm during our walk and pulled out a massive tumor from my left armpit. To be more specific, she jerked me off the ground and what I initially thought to be a bad sprain or a torn muscle, ended up being a large mass hanging out of my left armpit. After the biopsy, we heard those haunting words that suddenly transformed our lives, breast cancer, Stage III. Yikes! I was only 32 years old, with no family history, no kids yet (after two years of trying unsuccessfully). I thought to myself, they must be JOKING!


The avocado-sized mass that my dog pulled out of my armpit was a lymph node that was already engorged with cancer. And so I was thrust into chemotherapy a few days after diagnosis. There was no time to wait, no day to waste before beginning treatment. I was told that chemo might kill my chances of ever having children, but I needed it to live today. I was told that it might cause other cancers later in my life, but I needed it to live today. I was told that it might give me heart failure in the future, but I needed it to live today. There was NO OTHER CHOICE for me. Before each treatment, I asked if they were sure that I had cancer. I sounded like a fool, but I just wanted to make sure they weren't pumping me with poison for nothing! That makes me a chemo veteran, and for those of you who are in my good company, you know that it is a war. And so I had to quit my newly-scored, travel-intensive job with a top advertising agency and assume my new role as the CEO of my cancer treatment.

I am convinced that the ONLY reason I survived this ordeal thus far, and mostly intact, is because my family and friends willed me through it. Every chemo session was a little party. Every other week as I sat in the NYU Cancer Institute, I was surrounded by my family and friends. My husband, Danny, became my rock. My parents put their lives on hold and would drive up from Virginia; my pals would drive up from surrounding states. My friends would show up and surprise me with food, with gifts, with manicures, with all sorts of tokens. We joked, we laughed, we looked at old pictures and silly magazines, we were just us, in every sense, and at no time did anyone show me pity. Their presence alone was the only inspiration that I needed to keep moving forward. Somehow everyone knew just what to do, just what to say and what NOT to say. People were flying in from as far as California and Amsterdam to sit with me through chemotherapy, to cheer me on. How could I ask for more? I would sit there with the drugs flowing into my arm and just marvel at how all of my worlds were colliding. My friends from all of my former lives were becoming friends with one another. It was a gift to me; it was the ultimate happiness and peace. In those moments I felt so loved, so lucky.

Even though I am an Ashkenazi Jew, my oncologist was almost certain that this was not a genetic cancer and recommended a lumpectomy. “Okay, I can handle that,” I thought. The only thing we were waiting for were the results of genetic testing, which was done while I was undergoing chemotherapy. I tested positive for BRCA 1 which meant that the cancer was, in fact, genetic and would return with great certainty in my lifetime. My medical team quickly recalculated all the odds and strongly recommended a double radical mastectomy. I was in my early thirties and they wanted to give me every chance possible to beat this particular cancer.

And so, that is what I did, with great difficulty. Difficult, not because of vanity, but because it was yet another hurdle to overcome and because I was afraid of losing a piece of myself, both literally and metaphorically. I could not wrap my head around it no matter what I did, not that I had much time. I finished chemotherapy on December 9, 2005 and on January 11, 2006 I had the surgery. Both breasts were removed as well as 14 lymph nodes from my left armpit.

All of the treatment, physical therapy, and surgeries took nearly two years. I was in full-blown menopause experiencing hot flashes, irritability, mood swings. My oncologist, knowing how much we wanted a child, said that he would sign all of the adoption papers we needed. Another oncologist of mine actually offered to be a surrogate for us. Friends stepped up to be egg donors. It was overwhelming and we were moved. The research for adoption options lead to dead ends from a financial perspective and also because the adoption agencies usually require that the cancer patient is in remission for at least 5 years before being approved. We looked into many options, and decided that we would become parents regardless of how it came to us. Then we dropped the issue.

In January of 2008, Danny and I returned to Israel to visit his family. We had not been there in three years because of the cancer treatment and the surgeries that followed. Although I did not grow up religious, I did want to go to the Holy Land and give thanks for surviving my cancer. That was my heartfelt wish, and I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I had a 2-part mission - I wanted to go to the mikvah and spiritually cleanse myself from the disease, and I wanted to go to the Kotel and give thanks to G-d for having survived the disease. And I did just that.

I went to the mikvah on January 16, and we went to the Kotel on January 17, 2008. Sometime between the mikvah and the Kotel, I became pregnant. My oncologist, upon hearing the news, told us that I was not far enough away from the cancer, that I needed to wait at least three years (it had only been two) before even thinking about trying. He told us that if we wanted to do the right thing for my health, then we would terminate the pregnancy. It was a very sad conversation for him and for us. Very quickly, I decided that I would not strip myself of this unbelievable gift and that we would deal with whatever came our way when and if it did.

We did not know what to expect from the initial baby ultrasound. Would we hear something, would we see something? Were we really pregnant, or would the ultrasound show us that this was just a dream? The technician looked at her screen and we looked at the monitor hanging from the ceiling. She was talking nonchalantly but we hung on to her every word. When she found the heartbeat she said, "There's one, and there's the other one. You have two babies!" WHAT!?! That's when time stopped and the room started to spin. It was the most defining moment of my life. Twins, it was unbelievable. My dear oncologist, who I adore, jumped on the baby train as soon as he heard that it was twins. My oncologist told me that I was his first patient to conceive post-treatment. The nursing staff told us that the entire cancer institute erupted in happiness when they heard about my pregnancy. We were so happy to share this pregnancy with everyone, to finally share and enjoy good news for once!

My oncologist and his nurse came to visit us and meet the babies in the hospital. To see my doctor hold my daughters was the full-circle moment that I hoped for but never imagined. It was magical for all of us.

And so, I write my story here to say that there IS hope. There IS life after cancer. I am beyond fortunate, and I realize that every breath is a gift. I am in love with my life. And every time I walk in my neighborhood and pass the intersection where my dog pulled my arm that day, I look up into the sky and I say sometimes to myself, sometimes aloud, "THANK YOU G-D! Thank you Bella!"