My aunt died of breast cancer when she was only 28. My mom was 18 at the time, and in the thirty years of life she's lived since then, she's told me that only one situation has compared to the pain of her sister's death. And indirectly, that other situation was caused by her sister's death. So my mom's life has been marked by this incredibly sad and twisted mess that is breast cancer and it's lingering after-effects on the lives of everyone it touches.

About five years ago, another aunt was diagnosed with breast cancer. She was in her early forties, did well with treatment and did not have to have chemotherapy. She's a very private person and did most of her suffering in silence. She didn't want her family to go through it with her. I have to admit that I felt relieved we aren't biologically related, and then felt awful for even thinking of my connection to her personal hell.

This year, on the day my mother-in-law broke her ribs and settled in for an extended stay on my couch, my grandmother was diagnosed with breast cancer. In her case, it was small and slow-growing. She's already had surgery, which was so successful that she may not even need the radiation treatments she was originally dreading. She is in her eighties, very cheerful, and she and my grandfather are determined to get through this together.

Today, my mom emailed to tell me that her mammogram was inconclusive and she needs to go back for a consult and another mammogram. I know this is not as serious as a panicked phone call telling her she needs a biopsy, and I know that she is religious about her mammograms - so whatever is there, if anything, must be small and new. However, that does not change the fact that I stopped breathing when I read those words. My mother already has lupus and sjogrens. In other words, all the autoimmune diseases a woman needs. The logical, nursing school part of my brain is telling me to slow down and put things in perspective - many, many mammograms have to be redone and there are a hundred reasons they might need a better picture. Operator error? But another part of me is already galloping down this road called Cancer, wondering if her immune system could handle chemo? Could my parents - who have one kid in college and another about to graduate, with my dad in a new job and my mom not always healthy enough to work - even afford it?

It is at times like this that I think my faith should sustain me, but instead it fails me. Even if my mom doesn't have breast cancer, which I am praying for desperately, this is a reminder that at some point I will lose her. Hopefully, to the quiet of old age and a full life. But even the idea that there is uncertainty - that something more vicious might rear up and take her instead - drives me wild. It seems so unfair. Cancer has already snatched my aunt, Joshua's uncle and several of his grandparents and other relatives. It's this fear looming over my head. 28 is not too far away for me...I can't imagine dying of cancer before I reach 30.

I can barely fathom my mom having cancer before 50.



see? she's way too foxy for cancer.