Open Letter to Amy Mickelson
Dear Amy,
We haven't met, but already we're connected, a sort of "six degrees of separation" because once you've been diagnosed with breast cancer you're immediately part of a group of people -- not just women -- who are coping and learning to live with breast cancer. It's not a group any one of us would choose to join, but as they say, "membership has its privileges," and I hope you will find that to be true. I certainly did.
One of these privileges is that you'll receive an amazing outpouring of love and support: it's the best medicine I ever had. Your children will give you all the mojo you need to fight, to get well, and to be well. Their happiness will drive you, and motherhood will be your daily vitamin pill. Another privilege is that once you have a diagnosis of breast cancer, you learn -- in fact you will need -- to shore up your meaningful friendships and let go of those people who are in any way toxic. This is a time to clean house, figuratively, and it can be wonderfully liberating. Forget "we must do lunch" -- now you don't have to!
Although I was your age when I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, I was permitted to have my privacy, allowing me to choose when I shared the news with friends and colleagues. You and your husband are public figures and privacy is a luxury you don't have. But this doesn't mean you have to smile, do the fake brave thing and hold news conferences and give interviews. You really don't. Be selfish and think about what will make you feel best and will comfort you and your family. Tuck in, circle the wagons, let someone else take phone calls for you. (I assure you, the press will be waiting for you whenever you decide to emerge.)
Which leads me to this next bit of advice: Be proactive. Make your own decisions, ask questions and demand answers. Read well but selectively -- there's a minefield of information on the Internet and elsewhere, and some of it's a slippery slope. Educate yourself and trust in what you learn. Everybody second-guesses their decisions at 2 am; the trick is to leave those doubts behind when you get out of bed.
Weirdly, you'll find sometimes that you need to shore up others, that you'll also need to be a caretaker. My oldest brother was recently diagnosed with lung cancer and he told me that he didn't understand how friends could complain, say, of headaches when he was dealing with a deadly illness. I told him that people don't really change their behavior. Yes they'll offer sympathy and mean it, but no leopard completely loses his spots. If you have friends who like to grumble, guess what? They'll still grumble. Actually, I found it refreshing because then I could get out of the "breast cancer spotlight" -- I didn't have to keep talking about how I was doing. Maybe that will help you too.
But the best advice I can offer is recognizing that when you've been diagnosed with breast cancer, it doesn't just happen to you. It happens to your husband, to your children, to your parents, and to all the other dear and important people in your life. Having that community of caring is magic and it means that you truly aren't alone in fighting breast cancer. It means that when you triumph, all of you share in that success. For a woman who knows about competition, this will surely be the sweetest Mickelson win ever.