The Unwinding of the Miracle - Julie Yip-Williams Page 0,107

who would advise her as necessary. I told her that perhaps this was all meant to be, that her only sister dying will now afford her the opportunity to experience a unique brand of motherhood. As much as she hadn’t wanted to discuss any of this because she didn’t want me to die, she agreed.

We talked about how she could move closer (Queens seems too far), how she and my brother would divide the responsibility of caring for our aging parents, how she might possibly move into my apartment temporarily to ease the transition. If there is one thing about the family into which I was born that I am very proud of, it is that we are incredibly practical people. No matter how horrible and tragic something is, we always take care of what needs to be taken care of. There is no emotional withering, no debilitating depression. Our impoverished immigrant roots taught us survival skills that are fundamental to our very beings. This is an attitude, an approach, a worldview that I hope the girls, despite their comparatively privileged upbringing, will have somehow inherited from me.

Josh was devastated. Stop it, I thought. How is it possible to still feel devastated after three years of this, after receiving bad news time and time again? We comforted each other in the wee hours of the morning, after waking from our brief, exhausted slumber. I forced him to tell me his fears. How would he manage to be a single parent while also maintaining the career that means so much to him? Who could possibly run the household like I do? When should he stop working to be with me? I did my best to address all his fears. I’ve spent three years planning for my death. I have many contingency plans. Many lists in my head. Many things to write down. Many instructions to issue. If I could, I would handpick Josh’s second wife, too, but unfortunately, I haven’t gotten around to establishing that contingency plan yet.

I told Josh that I want to be cremated, my ashes to be spread in the Pacific Ocean. I decided on the Pacific Ocean while I stayed at my brother’s house this past summer, as I sat in his backyard staring down into the ocean that lies between the landmass where I was born and the one where I lived my improbable life. I told him I want my memorial service to be held at the church we’ve been going to since Mia demanded we start going over a year ago. I told him I want it to be held three months after I die; three months is enough time for people to make travel arrangements and soon enough to allow Josh and my family to grieve, and then I want them to move on afterward. I want him to ask Mia’s violin teacher to perform at the service. I told him who to ask to help with the planning of the service and showed him where old pictures of me can be found. He spent a weekend crying over those faded photographs, bemoaning the unfairness of it all.

I spent the weekend rearranging our chaotic stuff into our new, expanded closets, replacing our old dinnerware with the dishes I just bought, reorganizing spices, cleaning, planning, thinking, and planning some more.

When Dr. A.C. gave me that dim prognosis, I knew I wanted more than a year. I needed more time to plan, to live, to mother. My children need me for as many days as I can give them. Weeks of no chemotherapy had left me feeling pretty good, so I knew I could withstand more treatment.

And so I asked a friend to help me schedule an appointment for that coming week with a prominent GI oncologist in Washington, D.C. (Dr. M.), someone who had helped me with a fundraiser a couple years ago, but whom I had never seen as a patient. If I had gone through regular channels, I would have had to wait six weeks. I got an appointment for the coming Thursday.

I called Memorial Sloan Kettering for an appointment with an oncologist (Dr. V.) I had seen a couple times before for second opinions. She is young and therefore not one of the big names at MSK, but I have always liked her and wanted above all else access to MSK’s clinical trials. I had already decided that whatever clinical trials I would do, I would not travel, not