So here I am, three days out from my prophylactic bilateral mastectomy.

This time of year has always been a time of reflection for me, and this year has made me think about myself, my world, others, and what I want more than I have in years past.  We are between Rosh Hashana (the Jewish New Year! Happy 5779…. though I still keep writing 5778 on all my checks…) and Yom Kippur.  As a Jewish woman, Jewish tradition has always been important to me.  Being a good person and a good Jew, has come naturally in my own way. I don’t often go to services, but I love hosting and observing most all the holidays.  I am a Jew via food and tradition.  A cultural Jew, if you will…… I make a mean brisket, chopped liver, matzoh ball soup, and love seeing people happy, eating, and sitting at the very same table my grandparents did. I love inviting those into this world and sharing it with them.

This is an extremely reflective time of year in my world – with many markings of the year(s) that have flown by. Sept 1st was the day my father passed from Leukemia, Sept 4th, was Sammy’s first day of her second year of preschool, Sept 9th was the start of Rosh Hashana this year, and Sept 19th is Yom Kippur and the day of my surgery. (So New Year, New Boobs.)

There are visual and emotional markings of how time has passed. For example, last year I could not get Samantha to stay without me for a few weeks at school.  This year she basically shoved me out the door.

As I cooked for the holiday, I reflected back on all that has happened.  I won’t have Yom Kippur to atone (and yes I normally do fast, but this year I’ll be under anesthesia, having my boobies removed, and maybe get some good morphine).  It is this time of year when we apologize for our wrongdoings and ask for forgiveness.  We also forgive those that have wronged us.

I haven’t spoken much about the fall out from the well meaning friend, mostly because I anticipated a resolution…. but let’s just say, a group I held near and near of women aged 30-40 , started to feel a bit like a middle school or high school clique.  Sides were taken, some remained mature and neutral, and I was cut out when I needed support the most. Awkwardness ensued for everyone and I was left a bit in the dust. No, I’m not going to whine about it. It happens, and it makes sense why I never had a group of girlfriends in the past.  These started as “mom friends”, and I was lucky enough to experience much of my motherhood journey until now with them, as well as some fun nights on the town.  A few of us remain close…but now I’m not feeling so bad about not sitting with the “cool kids” at the lunch table. You don’t sit with them forever. Plus I liked the theater nerds. I am one.

While I checked my brisket, I still felt anger from some needless and selfish behavior that I can never fully understand.  Grudges and extrication. Two things I’m not very good at participating in or accepting. And no, I’m not removing blame from myself. As I’ve said before – finding out you carry a genetic mutation putting you at risk for horrible cancers that kill and then finding out your best course of action is removing everything that makes you a woman – well you’re really not your best self.

I thought about calling my Rabbi. How can I forgive? I’ve apologized and asked for forgiveness months ago but remained shut out. I was angry.  No this does not seem as big as a mastectomy, just some silly girl stuff. Perhaps it was there distracting from the pain and fear that lies ahead of me.  I spoke to an amazing friend.  A true human with empathy and sympathy, we will call her Super Lawyer Super Mom.  SLSM told me “just because you forgive doesn’t mean you have to forget,”  “people forgive murderers, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t in jail”.  SLSM is also doing double duty caring for a dear friend of hers who just lost her husband to cancer. But she still puts up with me. She listens, even if I don’t always ask how she is….I hope she knows I’m always there for her too. I know, nobody was shot here and nobody is in jail…yet or as far as I know.

So… I wrote letters, and by letters, well, it’s 2018, so I wrote lengthy well thought out texts.  Releasing my feelings, saying my peace, taking responsibility for anything I may have done (I suppose the worst of it was getting a genetic mutation…though I’m no saint and may have responded to a few harsh comments with harsh comments back). Not much was said/texted back, “speedy recovery, well wishes, be well”.  But I can close the chapter.  And yes, you read all that right, I was extricated from a tight knit group of friends at the same time I needed them the most. But c’est la vie and such is life.

I’m told things like this are quite common in the face of trauma and sickness.  People run, people don’t understand, people offer advice and get mad when it isn’t taken, and hate that they are reminded they do not have control of their bodies.  I would like to understand it that way rather than blame it on caddyness (is that a word?).

So if you have gone through this, know you are not alone.

Since then, I have really been able to gather my strength for this surgery.  To look at what I have and not at what I lost/am losing.  I have amazing support.  An amazing supportive family.  Friends as close as 20 steps away(who I hope know I’m there for them as much as they are for me), ready to help with everything from laundry and watching my child to fulfilling my cravings for Taco Bell(sorry, but it’s true).  I have strangers reaching out.  A nearly full meal train(started by SLSM).  A facebook update page started by one of my motherhood “mentors,” as you will.  I have friends taking me for caviar and oysters, friends checking in daily.  Friends flying and traveling to stay from miles away.  Women I’ve never met from mom boards I am on sending amazon gift cards and wish list items and sweet messages.  I’m making new friends at my daughter’s school, and becoming even closer to those I had been getting to know last year.   I have a freezer full of soup from Sammy’s preschool teacher. I have a friend who took time out of her busy work/home/mom life for a boob photoshoot, who says all the right things. Here’s a semi safe for work shot from that night. The girls expire in 3 days….

I have a friend who donated her birthday on Facebook to ME and my supportful page.

I have friends I’ve never met sending donations, and friends of friends taking me to dinner and spending the evening as if we’ve been friends forever. We have an amazing babysitter, who will be picking Samantha up from school since I cannot, who is one of the kindest souls you will ever meet. She is like family. I can really open my eyes and see all of this now and more. I have people who know me. Who love me.

I was also lucky enough to sing in two concerts at Feinstein’s/54 Below, which reminded me what I did when I was excluded from many things during my formative years…I wasn’t good at much besides singing so that’s what I did.  I became part of this amazing Broadway community, a community full of misfits, and empathy and those who understand rejection.  They know who they are and what they want at 10 years old and if they make here, they make it anywhere.  I felt at home again. I felt myself and embraced by a world of people who get me, even if they just met me.

Here are the performances from that night, the themes were about Former Broadway Kids performing again.  The first song is me singing a song sung by the female lead(I played a kid in the show, “Parade”). The second is a pairing of me and a sweet, talented, adorable kid, Wyatt Cirbus, from “Finding Neverland” singing Ruth B’s “Lost Boy”.   I’m also thankful the more trauma you seem to endure, the more you grow as a performer. And in the second I got to work with a dear, amazing, supportive friend, who happens to be my vocal coach(and an incredible music director and accompanist) – David John Madore – he’s amazing if you need one!  I feel at home onstage, I go to a different place of no worry and am met with love at the end in the form of applause.  What could be better?

Like I said, I have people who know me.  Who love me.

So words from wonderful songwriter, Israel Beilin, who you may know as Irving Berlin, can speak a little for me: