Reuniting a Family After Multiple Cancer Diagnoses

It all started when I was diagnosed with life-threatening lung cancer toward the end of the summer of 2018. Relatively small tumors had been found, one in each lung, and biopsies had revealed them both to be malignant. The tumors were removed in two separate surgeries.

My thoracic surgeon, Dr. L, also removed lymph nodes from my chest. Most of the nodes tested cancerous; none had metastasized, the first blessing on my road to recovery.

I was blest once again when my tumor was tested, and it indicated a 60% likelihood of responding to checkpoint inhibitor immunotherapy. Thus, the rest of my treatment plan would include chemo, radiation, and immunotherapy.

The third, and maybe most significant, cause for optimism occurred five days after my first round of Cisplatin chemotherapy. At that point, I was already aware that Cisplatin was a chemo known to be especially hard to tolerate.

After a traumatic night, feeling sicker than I had ever felt in my life, my husband, Dan, asked his boss and got permission to work from home for the rest of my treatment. That meant so much to me. When my fever reached 101, he took me to the oncology office that day for a special visit. Neither of us could believe my diagnosis and directions going forward, “Dehydration, drink more water.”

In having Dan at home, available to help me, and hearing the doctor’s words, I was encouraged, for the first time in many weeks. I knew I could recover.

I would finish my treatment plan by January 2020 and enter remission.

However, I had to face an astonishing turn of events in late 2018. My 38-year-old daughter was diagnosed with breast cancer. Her daughter was six years old, and her son three at the time. I made multiple trips to the Washington, DC area to be with her and support her family; I took the train and traveled whenever I was healthy enough to do so.

My daughter is strong; she fought and beat her disease.

Just two years later, I heard from my 91-year-old aunt. My aunt had been married to my mother’s brother for many years before he had passed away a few years earlier. Cancer had appeared in our family yet again. This time it was my first cousin, her son. L had been suffering from severe abdominal pain, which eventually led him to the Emergency Room of the nearest hospital in the rural area where he lived. He was admitted and spent more than a week in the hospital, undergoing a lot of testing. 

It was determined that he had Stage 2 Pancreatic Cancer, which made him eligible for a strong chemotherapy regimen followed by resection surgery if and when his tumors had shrunk sufficiently. My cousin had been referred to a pancreatic oncologist at the University of Miami (FL), who specialized in doing research on the mutant gene that probably caused L’s cancer. 

Fortunately, his wife owned property in southeast Florida, not far from the University of Miami Cancer Center. They moved to Florida, and L began treatment.

At least thirty years had passed since I had seen or had any contact with my cousin, and I wondered whether he had any idea who I was. However, I wanted to revive our childhood relationship, especially because of our new common bond, our respective cancer journeys. I assured my aunt that I would contact her son. She gave me his email address as well as his cell phone number.

Although our communication was primarily limited to email and text messages, we got closer and closer; we were soon typing away about much more than infusions, ports, and side effects. We corresponded about our shared grandparents and other family members, and in time shared some more serious concerns.

By April 2024, L completed his chemo regimen and did well with the surgery. He would visit his mother, who lives a 4-hour drive from me, a month later. L and I were both eager to reunite after so long. My cousin talked to his wife, mother-in-law, and 20-something daughter. I had never met any of them; I talked to my husband, my daughter, and the very close friend of my aunt’s and cousin’s family. I had not seen my aunt or her friend in about 25 years. We set a date for us all to meet, near L’s mother’s home, on June 9, 2024.

And it was a day that was incredibly special. Our family had, over time, become so detached. With the exception of my husband and daughter, it was highly unlikely that I would have ever, in my life, spent time with my aunt’s and cousin’s family, which was also my mother’s side of my family, again. The experience was so much more than just that one day, and as of today, I continue to feel genuine love for all of them. The force of the bond L and I formed has extended and become the core of what was, until eighteen months ago, a painfully disconnected group of individuals connected by blood only. Now we are a loving, supportive family.

Who would have thought that two life-threatening cancer diagnoses would reunite a long-time disconnected family?

This piece reflects the author’s personal experience and perspective. For medical advice, please consult your health care provider.

For more news on cancer updates, research and education, don’t forget to subscribe to CURE®’s newsletters here.