Uncategorized
When a breast cancer diagnosis knocked me down, a network of Jewish women lifted me up
(JTA) — On the way home from the hospital where I was given my diagnosis of grade 2 invasive lobular breast cancer, I directed my husband, through my tears, to stop at the kosher store.
“I don’t want to see anyone right now,” I said, knowing the inevitability of running into someone we knew in the small Jewish community where we live, “so can you go in?” He pulled into the parking lot. “We need challah,” I reminded him. It was Thursday, after all. The next evening was Shabbat. Time doesn’t stand still for cancer.
My hospital appointment took place two days after the front page of the New York Times declared: “When Should Women Get Regular Mammograms: At 40, U.S. Panel Now Says.” I was 48. Breast cancer has long been the second most common cancer for women, after skin cancer. It is also the most lethal after lung cancer. Statistically, though, most women affected are postmenopausal, so unless there was a specific reason to test early, women were screened regularly from the age of 50. Now, the advice has changed. Breast cancer is rising in younger women. For women in their 40s, the rate of increase between 2015 and 2019 doubled from the previous decade to 2 per cent per year.
Why is this happening? Air pollution? Microplastics? Chemicals in our food? We don’t know.
In the days following my appointment, there was a proliferation of articles about the topic. Importantly, doctors explained that the cancer women are diagnosed with in their 40s tends to be a more aggressive type of cancer. Cancers in premenopausal women grow faster; many breast cancers, like mine, are hormone sensitive. (Got estrogen? Bad luck for you.)
When I posted the news about my diagnosis — on Facebook, because I’m an oversharing type — I was stunned by the number of friends my age, more discreet about their lives, who sent me messages to tell me they had recently gone through the same thing. Everyone had advice. “If you can do a lumpectomy, you’re very lucky. It’s not a major operation, and you’ll preserve your breast.” “Cut it all off! Immediately! Just get rid of all it and you’ll never worry again! Do you want to spend the rest of your life in mammogram scanxiety?” “Ask plastic surgeons for pictures, and pick the cutest new boobs out there. You won’t regret it.” “The radiation burns—that’s something no one ever tells you. Get yourself some Lubriderm and lidocaine, mix into a slurry, slap it on a panty liner, and tuck it in your sports bra.”
I’m not sure why I thought I was immune. Or maybe I didn’t — maybe I just never gave it much thought. Even when I found the lump on my breast, I was dismissive. I went to the doctor, and she asked if anyone in my family had had breast cancer. “Oh, who knows? They were all murdered,” I said blithely. Her eyes bugged. “In the Holocaust,” I added. “Your…mother? Grandmother? Sisters?” “Oh! No, no history of breast cancer in my immediate family.”
Add to that, my mother and sister both tested negative for the BRCA gene mutations, and that’s my Ashkenazi side. The thing is, though, most women who test positive for breast cancer have no family history of it.
But also, I’d done everything right! If you look through the preventative measures, I took all of them. I had three kids by 35, and I breastfed them. I have a healthy, mostly plant-based diet; I walk and cycle everywhere. I’m not a drinker or smoker. I eat so many blueberries!
Several of the articles that have been published in recent days are emphasizing the particular danger for Black women, with good reason: They have twice the mortality rate of white women. But as I did my research, I realized that Jewish women should also be on high alert. We’ve long known that one in forty Ashkenazi women has the BRCA gene mutation, significantly raising the risk of breast cancer (50% of women with the gene mutation will get breast cancer) as well ovarian cancer, which is much harder to detect and far more deadly. So many of my friends who reached out to me to tell me of their breast cancer experiences are Jewish; interestingly, not one has the BRCA mutation. Are these high numbers indicative or anecdotal? Are Jewish women generally more susceptible to breast cancer? This seems to be an important area of future research.
For me, that research will come too late — as did the guidance. For now, I have to accept that this cancer diagnosis is part of my life, that just as I will pick up challah every Thursday, I will wake every morning and take my hormone-blocking Tamoxifen. I will lose sleep every night about which surgery to have until I have the surgery, and then I will lose sleep every night about whether it was fully successful. And there’s plenty more in store for me that isn’t pretty; so it goes.
But here’s a good thing that’s already come out of this diagnosis: When the responses to my Facebook post flooded in, they were not only along the lines of “Refuah shleimah” and “I’ve just been through this too,” but also, “Thank you for sharing! I’m going to book my mammogram right now!”
—
The post When a breast cancer diagnosis knocked me down, a network of Jewish women lifted me up appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Uncategorized
Quiz: For America 250, how well do you know U.S. Jewish history?
The Forward produced The Great American Jewish History Quiz! using Claude, a generative artificial intelligence tool by Anthropic. All questions and answers were researched and written by Louis Keene, who prompted Claude to create the user interface and underlying code and to track statistics.
Questions or feedback? Send us an email: forwardquiz@forward.com.
The post Quiz: For America 250, how well do you know U.S. Jewish history? appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Mazel tov, Taylor and Travis: A rabbi’s imagined wedding speech under the celebrity chuppah
I have to admit, as a rabbi, I never imagined I’d be standing at a wedding bringing together two of America’s great religions: football and Taylor Swift.
And yet here we are. I’ve officiated weddings in synagogues, in backyards, on beaches. I was not prepared for Madison Square Garden.
Before I get to the blessings, I need to share a little Torah with you. Don’t worry: I’ll keep it short. Half this room is Swifties and half is Chiefs fans, and the only thing you agree on is that you didn’t come here for a sermon.
The very first matchmaking story in the Torah involves a man named Eliezer, sent by the patriarch Abraham on a mission: find a wife for Abraham’s son Isaac. Eliezer travels far, he arrives at a well, and he devises a test. A test that looked past beauty, past pedigree, past fame, past achievement.
The test is simple: When a stranger arrives tired and thirsty, what do you do?
Rebecca does more than just offer water to Eliezer. She sees his camels are also thirsty, and without being asked, she waters every single one. Ten camels. Anyone who has ever watered a camel knows this is not a small thing.
And the Torah stops to tell us: this is the wife for Isaac.
The Torah could have stopped to admire her talent or her beauty. Instead, it stopped to admire her kindness. Because she saw need in the world and responded to it, just because that’s who she was.
Taylor and Travis, I think about that story when I think about the two of you. Because what we know about you isn’t just about the Grammys or the Super Bowls. It’s about the friendships. It’s about the family. It’s the way Travis’s eyes light up when he talks about his brother Jason. It’s the way Taylor has shown up, year after year, for her crew — the people who have been with her since the beginning, long before the sold-out stadiums.
These are people who know how to love. Eliezer traveled hundreds of miles looking for exactly that. Turns out it was worth the trip.
Red zones and red carpets
Now, because we have a professional athlete here, permit me a football analogy.
Every great quarterback needs protection from a tight end like Travis. Every championship team depends on its offensive line. The line doesn’t get the glory. They don’t score the touchdowns. But without them, nothing works.
Marriage is the same. Protect one another. Protect each other’s dignity. Protect each other’s dreams. Protect each other’s hearts. Be each other’s offensive line on the hard days.
And because we also have one of the greatest songwriters in history standing before me — someone who has written the soundtrack to a generation — permit me a music analogy as well.
Every beautiful song has both melody and rhythm. Sometimes one instrument leads. Sometimes another does. But what makes the song truly beautiful is that each makes room for the other. The goal is never the solo. The goal is the harmony.
Marriage is exactly the same. There will be seasons when one of you carries more. Seasons when one of you needs extra support. Seasons of celebration and seasons of challenge. The goal is to reflect each other’s light. The goal is to create something together that neither of you could have created alone.
So, Taylor and Travis, here is my blessing for you: May you always remember what drew you to each other, the soul beneath the spotlight. May you protect each other fiercely and gently, in the stadiums and in the quiet rooms where no one is watching. May you make room for one another — to lead and to follow, season by season, era by era.
And may the love you build together — the real love, the private love, the love that has absolutely nothing to do with cameras or crowds — be the greatest thing either of you ever creates.
Mazel tov.
The post Mazel tov, Taylor and Travis: A rabbi’s imagined wedding speech under the celebrity chuppah appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
The 50 most interesting Jews in American history you’ve probably never heard of
The United States is turning 250 years old. You know the stories of many of the Jews who have helped to shape the country’s history and culture, including such luminaries as Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, Philip Roth and Barbra Streisand.
But behind the American Jewish names we know and revere are the stories of many other American Jews who influenced the nation — and whose lives reflected the country’s efforts to realize its founding promises — who have found less purchase in history’s spotlight. To celebrate the 250th anniversary of this country’s founding, we’ve collected 50 of those stories here.
Among their number are scientists, athletes, lawmakers, clergymen and a couple genuine American characters — the type of people who, no matter where they were born, ended up living lives that speak to the best of what the U.S. has to offer its citizens.
As one of our honorees, the author Edna Ferber, wrote: “America — rather, the United States — seems to me to be the Jew among the nations. It is resourceful, adaptable, maligned, envied, feared, imposed upon. It is warmhearted, overfriendly; quick-witted, lavish, colorful; given to extravagant speech and gestures. Its people are travelers and wanderers by nature, moving, shifting, restless; swarming in Fords, in ocean liners; craving entertainment; volatile. The schnuckle among the nations of the world.”
The post The 50 most interesting Jews in American history you’ve probably never heard of appeared first on The Forward.
