As I come up on my 3rd anniversary of my cancer diagnosis, I find myself reflecting back on
what I’ve been through. I think what started it was my lunch the other day with MJ. I was
introduced to MJ in November of 2018, about 6 months after my first breast cancer surgery.
My plastic surgeon does this thing, he connects you with a patient who’s had the exact same
procedure you’re about to have, so you can ask questions to someone who’s already gone
through what you’re about to. It’s genius, really.

I was connected with a woman before my surgery. I think her name was Michelle but I don’t
really remember. She was nice, answered my questions, but I didn’t get the warmth or the
reassurance from her that I was hoping for, looking for. So I did a lot of research, met with
another friend who’d had the procedure a couple of years prior, started doing lots of yoga like
Michelle suggested.

I remember over the summer, I was spending a lot of time on my side porch, resting,
recovering, healing. My plastic surgeon’s office called and asked if I would speak with a
patient who was going in for the same procedure. I said, “Dina, you could not have called me
on a worse day. I’m questioning my decision to have this procedure, I’m uncomfortable and
depressed and I’m not in a position to help support anyone else. I’m sorry. It’s just too soon.”
She said no worries, I hope you’re feeling better soon.

Then, in November I got that call again. “Lainie, would you speak with MJ, she’s been
diagnosed with BC and she’s having latissimus flap reconstruction.” I said, “Of course! I
would love to.” To be honest, I don’t remember who reached out to who first. I think she
called me first and she quickly started to cry. My heart broke for her and I remember so clearly
saying, “MJ just remember this, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. I promise!” That was
where it started. We talked, I answered all her questions, gave her as much information and
detail as I could about what to expect. She was smart, articulate, thoughtful. It made me feel
good to be able to help her. We talked many times before her surgery. She was so
appreciative, so grateful, so loving. She referred to me as “Lainie my Life Line.” I visited her in
the hospital the day after her first surgery, took my shirt off so she could see what my breasts
looked like, and had her feel them. She was groggy, surprised at how great I looked and felt.
Appreciative that I was there and so happy for the bag of goodies I brought her. I left her
feeling good, happy that she was okay and happy that I was able to be there for her. I didn’t
realize at the time, that this would lay the ground work for what was to become an incredible,
necessary, and extremely important friendship for me.

I had 3 major surgeries - mastectomy/reconstruction, nipple reconstruction and fat grafting and
transfer. I also had 2 biopsies, tattooing under anesthesia and I threw in a foot surgery to
remove a bone spur for shits and giggles. All this in 7 months time. It was a whirlwind of
surgeries and they were all still fresh in my head and body. So it was easy for me to help keep
MJ looking forward as to what to expect.

Because of the pandemic, we haven’t seen each other in over a year. Now that we’re both
vaccinated and things are opening up, we met for lunch 2 days ago at the cafe we first met at.
It’s a lovely spot and the food is spectacular. I was so anxious to see her, it had been so long
and it seemed I needed this time with her, something I wasn’t fully cognizant of at the time. We
hugged as if we hadn’t seen each other in over a year! I didn’t want to let go of her. We sat
down and she handed me a little gift bag. Inside was a beautiful painted glass ornament of 2
women that says “There are invisible lines connecting everything together, and I am particularly
fond of the one that connects me to you.” Of course this filled my heart and I cried, tears of
love and happiness and appreciation. I gave her bookies (cookies in the shape of boobs with
chocolate chip nipples) that Remi made for her. She loved them! We spent the next 3 hours

talking, laughing, crying, sharing our feelings about our experiences, our lives, our new
normals. I hadn’t realized until this very moment how much I need MJ. She validates what I’ve
been through. She keeps it real for me. She understands me completely. She has felt my
pain, my struggle, my weakness, my strength, my fear and she continues to do so. We are on
the same journey, our thoughts are in line and our families are very similar. We had a ball
talking about our kids and their incredible similarities.

When it was time to go, neither of us wanted to leave. It was hard to say goodbye to her. We
promised to make sure we lunch every month and I offered to go visit her in PA. I hugged her
until I thought she might break because I didn’t want to let go. It was like I was letting go of a
part of myself I wanted desperately to keep with me at all times. She is me. I am her. I never
really understood the importance of being with someone who has the same experience as you.
I understood it intellectually and why it was necessary, but I never felt it before. This was
visceral. I need this woman in my life.

So we said our goodbyes and I got into my car. I felt light and happy. I saw life a little
differently that day and promised myself to stay focused on the real important stuff, not the bull
shit. I’m alive. I made it through this horrible disease and I can talk about it, laugh about it, cry
about it.

Right before the pandemic my plastic surgeon asked if I would record a video testimonial for
him. He said “you can even do it on your iPhone... “ I said, “have you met me?” So I
scheduled a time to go into the studio and film but we had to cancel. Finally, a year later, close
to my 3rd anniversary of my diagnosis, I went into the studio and told my story; how I first met
my doctor, how he found my risk for cancer, how it all went from there. It was unbelievably
therapeutic, which I didn’t expect. I showed it to him and he was speechless. I was thrilled to
know this video might help other patients. I go back sometimes and watch myself tell my
story. I cry every time, hearing myself, allowing myself to feel it all over again because it helps.
I went back to therapy today, something I haven’t done in just over a year. It was time. My
journey is changing, continuing and I need to talk about it. I never wanted to be identified by
my cancer, but it’s a part of me. I wear the survivor badge with pride and grieve for the ones
who didn’t get the chance to. That guilt hurts sometimes, but I try and stay focused on what’s
ahead.

Anniversaries are tough. I remember mine like it was yesterday. But every year I’m a little
stronger, a little wiser and always grateful I’m here to feel those emotions.

To my beautiful warrior sister MJ, you are MY lifeline too!