Written by Meridith Rothstein. Published by Jewish Living Delaware
Read the article online here: https://online.flippingbook.com/view/231047416/22/
In April 2012, my family was nine months into what would become a 12-month deployment. My husband was serving on active duty with the United States Air Force in South Korea, while our two children, Ben (age 10) and Kaela (age 9), remained with me in Anchorage, Alaska, at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson.
At the time, we had recently received orders to relocate to Great Britain. As part of the military overseas screening process, each member of our family was required to complete comprehensive medical examinations to ensure adequate healthcare resources would be available at our next duty station. After making sure both children were medically cleared, I scheduled my own appointment.
During my physical, my nurse practitioner conducted a thorough head-to-toe examination. She saved the breast exam for last. Midway through the exam, she paused.
“I think I may have felt something on the left side,” she said. “Let’s move your mammogram up a little earlier than planned. Don’t worry. It’s probably nothing.”
I wanted to believe her.
Two days later, I arrived for my mammogram feeling terrified. Deep down, I think I already knew something wasn’t right.
The technician completed images of my left breast first. Everything appeared normal. Then she moved to the right side. When the image appeared on the screen, I saw what looked like a white spider-like shape behind the nipple.
The technician immediately held up her hand and said, “I’ll be right back.”
Everything happened quickly after that.
The radiologist entered the room and explained that he believed the abnormality was breast cancer. He asked if he could perform a biopsy immediately. My mind was spinning. I told him I needed to call my husband, who was still deployed overseas.
It was the middle of the night in South Korea when I woke him. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words, so I handed the phone to the radiologist. After he explained everything, my husband and I spoke briefly, and we agreed to move forward with the biopsy.
Four days later, I received the results.
To every newly diagnosed survivor I’ve met since then, I describe that moment the same way: the surgeon said, “You have breast cancer.” Everything after that sounded like the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon, a distant and unintelligible “wah wah-wah.” Shock has a way of drowning out everything else.
With immense gratitude to the United States Air Force, my husband was home just 10 days later, arriving in time for my surgery. After careful consideration, I chose a bilateral mastectomy with immediate reconstruction.
A few days later, we received the pathology report.
I knew I had made the right decision.
The margins were clear. My lymph nodes were clear. However, the tumor was high-grade and aggressive. After meeting with my oncologist, I made the personal decision to undergo six rounds of chemotherapy.
For me, losing my hair was one of the most difficult parts of treatment. Fortunately, I experienced little nausea, likely due in part to carefully following every medication instruction. Being the daughter of a pharmacist may have helped! What surprised me most was how dramatically chemotherapy affected my sense of taste.
Throughout treatment, I also participated in several clinical trials. One included a therapy that has since become part of the standard of care for breast cancer patients. We believe it may have been one of the factors that helped my body heal and recover.
Through every step of the journey, my husband was extraordinary.
When we exchanged wedding vows in 1999, he committed to stand by my side in sickness and in health, and he honored that promise completely. He advocated for me, comforted me through tears, and became my steady rock during the most difficult season of our lives.
Nine years later, I had the opportunity to return the favor when he was diagnosed with colorectal cancer. Thankfully, it was caught early. Although treatment brought a few difficult months, he did not require chemotherapy or radiation.
One lesson I share with everyone is the importance of genetic testing. As someone of Eastern European Jewish descent, genetic testing provided valuable information that helped guide my oncology team’s long-term care decisions. Additional testing later revealed hereditary findings connected to my ancestry, allowing my physicians to monitor my health more effectively.
My recovery journey also included a commitment to improving my overall health. Since my diagnosis, I have lost 165 pounds. It has been a long and challenging road that required significant lifestyle changes and a complete rethinking of my relationship with food. I could never have achieved it without the support of my husband and children, who embraced those changes alongside me.
Yoga and Pilates became essential tools in my recovery, benefiting not only my physical health but also my emotional well-being.
When our family returned to Delaware in 2016, I made a promise to my healthcare team in Alaska: I would find a way to pay forward the care and compassion they had shown me.
Before cancer, I worked as a special events and catering planner in the hospitality industry. However, I knew the long hours and stress level were no longer compatible with the healthier lifestyle I needed to maintain.
At the same time, something even more profound was happening.
I had been Jewish my entire life. I celebrated the holidays, observed traditions, taught Hebrew school, enrolled my children in Jewish education, and passed along the values I had inherited. Yet, much of it felt routine, more habit than connection.
That changed after my surgery during Memorial Day weekend in 2012.
When I woke up, something inside me felt different.
I became deeply aware of Hashem’s presence in my life. I did not hear a voice, but I felt a certainty that I was going to be okay. I knew the road ahead would be difficult, but I also sensed that one day I would understand the purpose behind the journey and be able to help others find their way through similar darkness.
During treatment and recovery, I had plenty of time to read. I revisited the siddur I had received years earlier as a student at Adas Kodesh Shel Emeth. As I studied, passages seemed to take on entirely new meaning. Jewish tradition teaches that we are commanded to protect our health and cherish our bodies as gifts from God. Learning to truly embrace that lesson required me to do something that had always been difficult: put myself first.
I still work on that every day.
I would do anything for my husband and children, but I eventually learned a powerful truth: I cannot pour into someone else’s cup if mine is empty.
As I am writing this, approaching the High Holidays and the year 5787, I look forward to participating fully in the traditions that bring meaning and reflection to my life. One of my favorite observances is Tashlich. Living near the ocean, I find great peace in standing by the water and speaking honestly with Hashem, reflecting on mistakes, seeking forgiveness, and considering how I can do better in the year ahead.
For me, this season represents renewal, gratitude, and new beginnings. It is a time to appreciate my health, reflect on countless blessings, and renew my commitment to helping others navigate their own journeys.
One of the greatest blessings to emerge from this chapter of my life has been discovering the Delaware Breast Cancer Coalition (DBCC).
Founded in 1991 by breast cancer survivors advocating for access to care and legislative change, DBCC has grown into Delaware’s most trusted breast cancer resource. The organization provides education, screening support, advocacy, survivor services, and safe spaces for individuals affected by breast cancer.
I never imagined my career path would lead me here, but I feel blessed every day to do this work.
In my role, I interact with individuals who are newly diagnosed, actively undergoing treatment, living in survivorship, or thriving while managing metastatic breast cancer. As a legislative and advocacy liaison at both the state and national levels, I have the opportunity to help improve policies which affect breast cancer patients not only in Delaware but across the country.
I also serve as a peer reviewer with ChristianaCare’s Institutional Review Board and contribute to breast cancer research efforts, including work with the Department of Defense Breast Cancer Research Program, whose ultimate goal is to end breast cancer.
Looking back, I believe Hashem reassured me from the very beginning of this journey.
Through faith, perseverance, family, and service to others, I have found a sense of purpose I never expected. In helping others navigate their own paths, I continue to heal myself.
For more information about the Delaware Breast Cancer Coalition, visit DEBreastCancer.org.
I can also be reached at MRothstein@DEBreastCancer.org.
About the Author
MERIDITH ROTHSTEIN grew up in Pike Creek, Delaware, and attended college in Chester, Pennsylvania. After relocating for her career, she met her husband, Howard, while he was serving in the United States Air Force. Together for nearly 28 years, they have shared countless adventures around the world, built a life rooted in love and partnership, and raised two incredible children.
Following her cancer diagnosis and the loss of both of her parents, Meridith developed an even deeper appreciation for her roots and her Jewish identity. She takes great pride in watching her children grow into the next generation of proud Jewish adults.
As an added blessing, she discovered a true passion in her work with the Delaware Breast Cancer Coalition, where she will celebrate eight years of service in the coming weeks. Meridith resides in Lewes, Delaware.