Thirty-three years ago, Sue Miller, a breast cancer survivor, held a fashion show featuring women who had undergone mastectomies. “Even if no one shows up, that’s OK,” she told herself after hearing her models laughing as they tried to get the clothes to fit. “These women have found a home.” Sue Miller’s Day of Caring has become a much anticipated event in our community.
On Nov. 11-12, synagogues in Denver and elsewhere in Colorado will mark Pink Shabbat. Sharsheret and JEWISHcolorado are the hosts. Women will share their battles with breast and ovarian cancer (men also get breast cancer). But for sufferers past, present, and those of us who might receive a devastating diagnosis in the future, struggles continue long after Pink Shabbat ends.
Jewish women of Eastern European descent face a new challenge, as recounted in a Lively Opinion in the IJN, Nov. 4 edition.
Until recently, Ashkenazi Jews who lacked a family history of reproductive cancers didn’t seek genetic testing for the BRCA mutation, which increases their risk for these cancers to 1 in 40 (vs. 1 in 200 in the general population). Researchers now say that Ashkenazi Jews with no family history can — and do — test positive for the mutation. Medical professionals assert that “testing all Ashkenazi Jews” for BRCA “finds twice as many people with mutations as testing just those with family histories.”
The reality of cancer is unimaginable. A carefree, predictable existence suddenly revolves around chemotherapy or radiation or surgery (or more than one of the above). Despite enormous strides in preventative screening and treatment, too often survival rates depend on the type and stage of cancer.
Ashkenazi women free of family histories for breast or ovarian cancer have lost their “immunity.” But the truth is we were never immune. Women whose mothers, sisters or uncles never had reproductive cancers, and also test negative for BRCA mutations, still develop breast or ovarian cancer.
“Population screening” for Ashkenazi Jews, which has entered the cancer lexicon, is a choice. However scary the result, finding out might save one’s life.
Don’t remove your pink or teal ribbon after Pink Shabbat. Wear it with hope in your heart every day that follows. Let us cure cancer in our lifetime, and yours.
Copyright © 2016 by the Intermountain Jewish News
