This book is dedicated to the kindest people I have met on my road of life – my mother Ester, my wife Svetlana, Doctor Mukhitdin Umarov, and my friend and mentor Raisa Mirrer.
I consider it my duty and pleasant responsibility to express my great gratitude to my friend Raisa Isakovna Mirrer without whose help this book would perhaps not have been written. She not only inspired me to write but also put her soul and enormous experience as a literary editor into our common project.
In April of 1993, my mama, as always, went to have her annual mammogram, a routine preventive test.
Mama’s doctor called a week later.
"Everything is fine," he said reassuringly, "but you'll need a follow-up test at the oncologist’s."
She was received by one of the leading oncologists at Long Island Jewish Medical Center, a very well-known New York hospital. Examining her x-ray, he pointed out a large light spot at the base of her left breast.
"We'll need to do a biopsy. I don’t think there's any reason to worry. Women your age," he explained to my mother, "often get hard lumps of calcium."
But when he came out of the room where the procedure was being done, the oncologist didn’t find it necessary to conceal his apprehension from me.
"It’s most likely a cancerous tumor. And it’s big – 3 inches in diameter. It’ll be clear in a week after I get the results."
A week passed spent in distressed waiting. And there we were back in his office. This time he was also open with Mother.
"Miss Yuabova, you have breast cancer. The tumor is rather large."
Mother sat with her arm up, trying to feel the tumor. The doctor helped her.