My Little Bs Have the Big C

A Breast Cancer Blog For Young Women

In Memoriam: Jessica

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Jessica Wilt, taken from her Facebook page.

Jessica Wilt, taken from her Facebook page.

Some people say that cancer is a gift.  I’ve never seen it that way.  I’ve seen it mostly as a curse.  But there are some gifts that have happened in my life because of cancer.  One of those gifts was, Jessica Wilt.

Jessica and I both work in arts education but we met through cancer.  She was diagnosed with a rare bone cancer, Ewings Sarcoma right at the time I discovered the lump in my breast.  Some of her friends had started a Crowdrise campaign to help Jessica with the costs of treatment and shared it on Facebook.  I know this sounds silly but I donated to her partially because I wanted to put out good karma into the universe.  Maybe if I did something nice for someone with cancer, that lump in my breast would turn out to be nothing.  It’s funny how the mind works to protect itself from the inevitable.

On August 1st, 2014, the day I was officially diagnosed with breast cancer, Jessica sent me a message thanking me for the donation.  I wrote back that I had just found out about my own cancer and asked if we could be friends and support each other through treatment.  That was the beginning of our friendship.

Jessica’s cancer was very different from mine and she was diagnosed just a month before me but I saw her as knowledgeable and experienced in the world of cancer.  I looked to her for guidance and example.  The first thing I noticed about Jessica was her ability to smile through the challenges and the pain.  The first picture I ever saw of her was in a hospital bed, smiling with her thumb up.  That thumb up would become her signature gesture that let cancer know it had a fight on it’s hands.  It was her warrior pose.

I think if it wasn’t for Jessica showing me, the world and cancer that you could fight with a sense of humor, with a smile and a thumbs up, my cancer experience would have been much different.  For example, when she was losing her hair due to chemo, she shared a video of it being shaved off.  It was because of her that I decided to turn the shaving of my own head into a ritual and share that very vulnerable moment on my blog for everyone to see.  When she got scan results that showed growth of her tumor, she would give that famous thumbs up and proclaim that she was not going to stop fighting.  When I was having a bad day due to treatment, I would remember this and find joy in my day.  I’m not sure I could have done this without her example.

One week ago, Jessica posted in her Facebook page that her tumor had spread to her spine and other parts of her body.  She had been in pain for quite some time and the scans finally showed why.  Her oncologists declared that her cancer was now terminal.  While this news was devastating, she was still giving that thumbs up and writing “I AM NOT GIVING UP HOPE.”  She never gave up hope.

Jessica died last night in the hospital surrounded by her family.   She endured cancer for 18 months with grace and courage.

I don’t know what a world without Jessica will be like.  But I know that it is a little bit smaller…tighter…strangely claustrophobic.  Or maybe the world is bigger, emptier with a space that can never be filled.  I’m not sure which.  Maybe it’s both.

Jessica was a dancer and believed in the power of the arts to be a movement for change.  She loved NYC and dreamed of coming back and reclaiming her life here.  She loved her family and friends fiercely.  Her community was everything to her.

Jessica, I will miss you so much.  I will miss our late night Facebook chats about cancer and life.  I will miss knowing that I had someone out there who gets it.  All of it.  I regret that I only met you in person once and that our friendship couldn’t have lasted longer.  Your spirit will always be a part of me.

Today, I had a hard day of scans.  It was awful, especially after learning you were gone.  But that’s ok.  I laid there and gave the machine a thumbs up.  And all will be well.

IMG_1360

That time we met in Washington Heights after we both finished our final chemo infusions. We ate, drank wine and thought about the future.

All that I know is I’m breathing.

All I can do is keep breathing
All we can do is keep breathing
All we can do is keep breathing
All we can do is keep breathing
All we can do is keep breathing
All we can do is keep breathing
All we can do is keep breathing
All we can do is keep breathing
All we can do is keep breathing
All we can do is keep breathing

Now.

-Ingrid Michaelson

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8 thoughts on “In Memoriam: Jessica

  1. Oh my dahlink. How lovely and how sad. I knew of Jessica through you, and without really knowing her I loved who she was for you. Ah my goodness. Tears and hugs.

  2. I’m so sorry you lost your dear friend.

  3. Oh Carrie, I am so sorry for this loss– in your life, in the lives of Jessica’s family and other friends, in the world.

  4. Carrie, I am very sorry. You wrote a beautiful tribute for your friend. Reading it made me feel emotional, because as you know, I have a dear friend who is struggling with stage 4 bc. I don’t want to lose her. I worry about her all the time. None of this is fair.

    My thoughts are with you and Jessica’s family. xoxo

  5. Such a moving, eloquent tribute. I’m very sorry you lost a friend. xo

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