7/1/2010
Mr. Weihenmayer,
Hello there. My name is Jackie Ledbetter and I finished reading Touch the Top of the World early this afternoon. I've been thinking about your story somewhat frequently over the week I've been reading it, and it has come to mean something special to me-- it's helping me to put my own life into perspective, in a way. I wanted to write you about my thoughts so I looked your address up on the internet. Hopefully that's neither strangely stalkerish or an invasion of privacy-- I would hope you're accustomed to fan mail.
I'm 24 and fit the typical outdoor junkie profile: I live in SLC to be near the skiing, hiking, canyons, biking and caves; I have guided whitewater rafting trips in UT, ID, AK and AZ; I love to climb ice and rock but at a much more casual level of tenacity than my 5.12-hungry partners; and the past couple years I've worked as a Wilderness Therapy Instructor for teens.
I live for travel, family and friends, I love to cook, I have an avid affinity for reading, tattoos fascinate me, dancing to indie rock or bluegrass lifts my spirits, I'm relentlessly positive and easily intrigued, I'm always up for an environmental debate, I don't care for chocolate and I think astrology is total crap. quite average and content.
Last month, out of the blue, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It doesn't run in the family, I've had no bizarre exposure, I eat organic and raw foods-- it was quite unexpected. I'm handling it very well because I'm an outstandingly lucky person. I have top-notch surgeons, a banner support system, and youth and vitality on my side, hopefully making chemo a walk in the park. I have yet to start chemo, it keeps getting postponed due to an infection I developed after surgery, which is what I've been mulling over as I read your book.
I had a left mastectomy 9 days after diagnosis. My surgeon put a tissue expander in place of the breast, a device that would help insure I have enough skin for my reconstructive surgery following chemotherapy. Unfortunately, a staph infection formed; I had another surgery to clean things out and switch out my old, gnarly expander for a new one. I just stopped antibiotics and the infection does not seem to have cleared. If it does not in the next few days, I will go in for my 4th surgery in two months, and will proceed into treatment with half a flat-chest.
The idea of that possibility had me nauseous with anxiety and fear. My boyfriend summers in Alaska and left the morning of my mastectomy, so he hasn't seen me. I was flooded with heartbreaking thoughts of his facial expression the first time he saw my new, freakish torso, trying to smile whole-heartedly but falling short. I imagined the 5 months of treatment I would undergo with my clothes not fitting unless I purchased an expensive prosthesis. I got really down thinking about reconstruction. If I lose my expander, I will have to have a gel implant rather than make a breast from my own fat, which creeps me right out. I couldn't keep out pictures of my body as decades passed, one breast staying eternally perky, one acting its age. or potentially awkward conversations with future lovers about texture, or what swimsuit shopping would be like, or any number of other festering insecurities that were cropping up out of nowhere as I stewed and stewed.
Then, I read the part in your book where you took your eye out in front of Ellie for the first time. To be honest, I was surprised that this was an insecurity for you because, to me, seeing a loved one I knew to be missing an eye, take out a false one would not be a big deal. It was at that moment that I realized the same applied to me missing a breast. I remembered my own resolve and sense of self-love that I had forgotten as I worried about surgery. I remembered that a loved one would continue to love me regardless of whether or not I'm missing a breast (or an eye), and if not, well, then that would be a welcome indicator of the quality of love we share.
I looked at all you have been able to achieve in life and began to see my situation for what it really is: an opportunity to take something that makes me different from others and use it to lead a rich and fulfilling life.
Your ability and ambition to pursue your dreams despite preconceived notions and the lack of predecessors to teach you how to achieve all of your accomplishments as a blind man,; is truly endearing and remarkable. Your book helped me to move past the immediate preoccupation of cancer by reminding me of my dreams. I have a gifted scientific mind and can't wait for the day I make a groundbreaking discovery in the field of island biogeography, or the effects of genetically modified foods on humans. I will someday smell the air of Peru, Bolivia, Cambodia and India, I will taste durian fresh off the tree in Indonesia and I will witness the gradual restoration of New Zealand's great coral reefs first hand.
Thank you so very much for unintentionally helping me rise above my self-imposed funk and reminding me of my potential and inherent passion for life. Your book will always be close to my heart and a go-to suggestion for friends in need of distraction from personal gloom or inspiration to make the best of any given situation.
With utmost respect and sincerity,
Jackie Ledbetter
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