Seasons of Life: Reflections on Surviving Cancer and Rebuilding After Loss
By Molly MacDonald
Ten thousand five hundred four thousand eight hundred minutes,
Seven thousand two hundred ninety-five days.
One thousand forty weeks.
Two decades and twenty years.
How does one measure surviving cancer?
In daytime, in nighttime
In faith and in fear
How about life…
Today I celebrate what is known in the cancer world, my cancerversary, the day I received a “No foolin’” breast cancer diagnosis on Friday, April 1st, 2005.
I was sitting in the back of a cab on my way to LaGuardia Airport after a meeting with Major League Baseball, giddy with anticipation that the company I was joining was on the short list to receive the bid to produce and install graphics for the All-Star Game that was to be played in my hometown of Detroit that July.
To fully grasp the significance of my circumstances, you must first understand a bit of my backstory.
Life Before Breast Cancer: Luxury to Loss
In the late summer of 1997, I drove up the driveway to my home, a sprawling 6,000 square feet with a pool and pool house, perched on a slope atop almost two acres of land. My five children, ages 4-13 were strapped into the back of my gas guzzling Suburban, when I noticed a paper about the size of a rack card tacked to the front door of our home.
Where we lived, people did not tack notices on front doors. Our homes had service entrances, because, well, we all had domestic staff. And things like dry cleaning and groceries were delivered to that door.
For fifteen years I lived a life of luxury. A life most people only dream about while they are gambling and purchasing lottery tickets, imagining what they would do with all that money when they win.
Ripping that tacked note off my front door annoyed to see a small pin hole disturbing the glossy paint, I read that our home, my dream home, was to be auctioned off at a Sherriff's sale in 30 days!
That evening, I had an unpleasant conversation with my husband and children’s father, during which he disclosed that the deal he was pursuing, flying the Concord back and forth to Europe, believing he had been hired by the government to help bring money taken from the Jews during WW2 back into circulation into the United States (I know completely strange and unbelievable) was being fronted with own financial assets. Instead of paying our bills he was using our money and we were in the hole $20 million dollars. Not only that, my name had been forged by his Office Manager on our income tax and I was indebted to the IRS for $1 million dollars.
In less than 30 days I sold everything I could, rented a home for cash in a nice looking “Leave It To Beaver” neighborhood, two miles from my children’s private school, but less than a mile from three public schools to which they could transition, and began to look for work and filed for divorce.
The world changed dramatically since I left the workforce to be a full time Mom.
Re-entering at middle age was a struggle. I was ill suited for the corporate world having worked in newspapers since graduating with a degree in journalism from The University of Michigan. I really could not grasp why things took so long, when I was accustom to a world
Juggling the needs of five children and an aging mother tested the patience of my employers and I was let go on three occasions.
Until I finally segued my career to sales.
As long as I was making sales, nobody cared where I was.
That spring at a time of job transition from one company to another I made the decision to have my mammogram, never suspecting a scattering of pre-cancerous cells that according to my surgeon looked “like salt in a mound of mashed potatoes” would result in a diagnosis of ductal carcinoma in situ. The cells, If allowed to remain in my breast, would surely and eventually form a solid mass.
I had two surgeries and six weeks of daily radiation over five months.
Without my income and the addition of a costly COBRA premium to access care, our family experienced a side effect of cancer eight years before the term was coined by Doctors Yousuf Zafar and Amy Abernethy of Duke University. #financialtoxicity
Within three months of starting treatment our home fell into foreclosure and every 58 days Ford Credit would call to ask if I was planning to make a payment or should they plan to repossess my vehicle.
Life did not seem worth living. In my mind I was a burden to my family and imagined us joining the ranks of the homeless, without a car.
I seriously toyed with the idea of taking myself out ... at least my family would have the benefit of my life insurance policy and a roof over their heads.
Until I decided to do something about this problem that tens of thousands of women and a few good men face in our country annually. When cancer treatment affects their ability to work and lost income collides with the cost of insurance premiums, high deductibles and co-pays, cancer patients are faced with impossible choices between their lives and their livelihood.
A New Season
That idea led me to a new season of life, one that focused on helping others by co-founding a non-profit with my new-ish” 3rd times a charm husband who I lovingly refer to as Tom Terrific because, well, frankly, you have to be terrific (or insane) to marry a twice divorced middle aged woman with five children, night sweats and a mildly demented mother.
When I presented my idea to Tom, he told me later, “I knew you had lost your breast, but now you have lost your mind.”
“What makes you think we can do this?” he asked.
“Dunno,” I said, “I just believe I can.”
And so together we bootstrapped what is now a national nonprofit, Pink Fund, with the mission of improving the lives of people in treatment for breast cancer through household bill payments, community engagement and education.
Ten thousand five hundred four thousand eight hundred minutes, seven thousand two hundred ninety-five days.
Today, I celebrate the milestones—big and small—that I’ve reached since my diagnosis.
Seven thousand two hundred ninety-five days.
Surviving cancer is not about ignoring the struggles we face, but about embracing the possibility of a better future. It’s about recognizing life’s seasons change, and sometimes, those changes bring growth, new opportunities, and unexpected joy.
One thousand forty weeks
Cancer came with challenges, left its scars—physical, emotional, and financial—but it also opened doors to new purposes and allowed me to help others in ways I never imagined possible.
Two decades and twenty years.
How does one measure surviving cancer?
In daytime, in nighttime
In faith and in fear
How about life…
A life worth living.
