My Conclusion for Breast Cancer

My Conclusion for Breast Cancer

It is possible that there is no more beautiful place in Washington during the Christmas
holidays than the White House. Each year the president and first lady open up the mansion
to thousands of visitors, including the press, to celebrate the season. In a rather
extraordinary twist of fate, exactly one year to the day after learning about my cancer while
standing on the driveway outside the press briefing room, I returned to the White House to
attend one of those parties. Since that chilly evening a year earlier, I had undergone a
mastectomy, the awfulness of chemotherapy, reconstructive surgery with more to come,
drugs as a daily part of my life, not to mention the sometimes demoralizing adjustment to
my looks. In my darkest moments I hadn’t looked too far ahead, certainly not to a year
later and a return to the White House.

Despite the fact that I was to undergo another surgery in a week, it was a delight to revel
in the joys of the season. The decorations in the White House are a sight to behold, bright
and bold, meaningful and merry. From the tree honoring military personnel in the Blue
Room to the cameos by the first dog, Bo, in every room in the house (including a Bo made
of buttons and a Bo made of garbage bags), everything was lovely. I tried to remember
everything I saw because the last time I’d been in the White House was such a blur. But
the thing I remembered most was that I was standing here, with a good prognosis in front
of me and blessed to have endured the previous year.

It is a strange thing about cancer: even after all your treatment it never quite leaves you,
at least in the metaphorical sense. I see doctors regularly. I take drugs daily and will
continue to do so for the next few years. And always in the back of my mind there’s the
nagging question: Will it come back? That, of course, is unknowable. But having endured
once, I’ll know a little of what to expect. For those of you who are enduring now, I hope
that this book will have provided some comfort and solace. Everyone’s cancer is unique,
but my hope is that this book has provided a little something for each of you.