June Levinson and Julie Ross
Sharing cancer, sharing a gift
June's story
June Levinson (left) and her daughter, Julie Ross
All my life I feared heart disease because this illness, not cancer, had decimated my family. Then, at age 41, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. There was no lump that I could detect, but my diligent doctor had suspicions and pursued her concerns with a mammogram. Mine was an atypical case because I had three lumps, each the size of a half-pea, and malignant.
In 1978, mammograms were not given routinely, especially for someone my age. None of my friends had ever been tested, until my experience.
My cancer was found early, so I was fortunate. However, because there were three tumors, a mastectomy was my only choice. It was a decision that terrified my daughter, Julie, who was 12. Having no node involvement, I did not need chemotherapy or radiation.
Four years later, I chose a fairly new and, at the time, controversial procedure: breast reconstruction. My husband, Mark, was unnerved by this elective surgery, but I was adamant. After all, I was young and active and wanted my body symmetry back. An excellent reconstructive plastic surgeon performed the procedure, and I have never looked back. My decision revived my optimism and sense of wholeness.
In 2003, cancer struck our family again when Mark was diagnosed with inoperable stage four lung cancer days after suffering a stroke at the movies. Mark endured difficult chemotherapy treatments and radiation with amazing stoicism and strength. His care team at Dana-Farber used every possible approach to make this time as tolerable as possible. Mark fought a great battle to live and did so for three years after his diagnosis. Our family is very grateful to his care team at Dana-Farber. Even with his dire prognosis, Mark practiced law until the day before his sudden death in January.
Last year, while Mark was fighting cancer, we received another jolt when our 39-year old daughter, Julie, was diagnosed with breast cancer. Our family was devastated by this news. Julie had been our rock, family scribe, and cheerleader for Mark and me when we had cancer. She made Mark smile when no one else could. Together with her husband, Julie made the difficult decision to have a double mastectomy, even though only one breast was involved. She did not want to face cancer a second time, especially because of her two young sons.
In wondering how I could help my daughter and ease the fears that had terrified her when I had cancer, I took my cue from her. Remembering my experience, she knew what clothes to wear when she was unable to raise her arms, how she wanted to present herself to the world, and how she would try not to fall apart. She also knew she wanted to give back.
During her recuperation, she focused on how she could help other women with cancer. Together we created beaded bracelets to raise funds for breast cancer research. She volunteered her dining room table, and production was underway. Each bracelet has a sterling silver ribbon, which serves as a shining reminder to support breast cancer research.
Julie and I recognize the unique bond created by our disease at approximately the same time in our respective lives. Neither of us would have chosen to battle breast cancer, but it has brought us closer together and helped us live in the present.
Julie's story
There wasn't a lump. I didn't have a concern, only an appointment for a routine mammogram. But there was nothing routine about that September morning when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. My father was battling lung cancer, and my father-in-law was in the final stages of colon cancer. Looking back I shouldn't have been so shocked. My mother was diagnosed at 41, and I was 39. Even though I have always looked and acted like my father, suddenly, I was taking after my mother.
A few days after my father-in-law passed away, I was sitting in an exam room on Dana 9 with my husband, Rich. He was still reeling from his father's death. My parents took the elevator down after my father's appointment on Dana 11. I learned my cancer, DCIS (ductal carcinoma in situ) was nearly filling my left breast. Breast conservation was not an option due to the vast area the disease covered. Because of my family history and the strong likelihood that it could appear in the right breast, the decision for me was an easy one: a double mastectomy with reconstruction to effectively remove the fear and anxiety of a recurrence. Like many patients, I simply did not have time for cancer, and so I took steps to reduce my risk of having it again.
Through this journey, I discovered there was more of my mother in me than I realized. Like her, I seemed to sail through my eight-hour surgery. Also, like hers, my cancer was caught early enough so that my margins were clear and I did not need chemotherapy or radiation. And, like her, I found myself so grateful to my doctors and nurses that I just had to give back.
My mother is an artist at heart. Many years ago, she worked as a jeweler. So she suggested we create and sell pink and silver bracelets for breast cancer research. Within days I was hooked, and pleasantly surprised that some of my mother's creative genes were passed on to me. We e-mailed our friends, and my oldest child even sold them at school. We planned to sell 40, and at last count have sold well over 300 – generating $3,000 for Dana-Farber.
Everything happens for a reason, even if it is not clear right away. My mother and I bonded in ways we might not have, if cancer had not intervened. Sharing this diagnosis was a healing gift for us both.
