The caller was five or six when they started lying awake at night, scared of death. What frightened them was the idea of not existing at all. That wasn't something a kid could bring up to adults, so they mostly thought about it alone. Around the same time, their mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was the 1980s, and nobody explained much to the kids. When the cancer came back years later, the caller figured she'd get better, because she had before. A few days before their 14th birthday, at their own birthday party, their dad and aunt took them and their brother into another room and told them their mom wasn't going to survive. Then they all went back to the party. On the caller's birthday, they were called to the school office, where their dad and brother were waiting to tell them she had died. She was 39. These days, the caller spends that birthday honoring her, and honoring themselves too. At 30, newly insured after becoming a nurse, the caller begged their doctor for a baseline mammogram. They didn't feel anything wrong. Their mom had been diagnosed at 30. The scan found stage one breast cancer, and the caller had a 3-year-old daughter at home. They went through one of the strongest chemotherapies there is. Lying in bed through it, they felt closer to death than they ever have, in a strange, almost mystical space they describe as being between two worlds. Zach brings in a question Don once asked him to take to someone who had fought cancer: how do you fight to live and make peace with dying at the same time? The caller says treatment felt almost safe, because something was being done. They also swung between feeling strong and completely crumpling, never knowing which way it would go, like Schrödinger's cat. Almost 20 years later, after years in labor and delivery helping people give birth, the caller was working in primary care. They were telling newly diagnosed women to look at them: almost 20 years out. Then, in 2024, they felt a lump. Stage two this time, in a couple of lymph nodes. They had assumed that getting older, and facing it a second time, would leave them more ready. It didn't. The beliefs that once softened the fear, built on reading all of Sylvia Browne's books, had fallen away. Now they're leaning toward nothing at all, like before we're born. Now 51, and working on it with their therapist, the caller says plainly that they haven't found acceptance. When Zach asks what it would take, they wonder if it might be hearing that it's terminal, that there's nothing left to do. Right away, they add that they don't want to be like that. They love being alive, even with all the hard parts. They don't want to be a vampire and live forever. They'd just like to make it to their late seventies or eighties. In this conversation: Fearing not existing since age five or six, and carrying it mostly aloneSylvia Browne, life reviews, and coming back to learn lessonsLetting go of those beliefs and leaning toward nothing, like before birthBeing told at their own birthday party that their mom wouldn't surviveGuilt about being a moody young teenager who was scared to visit their mom in the hospitalAsking for a baseline mammogram at 30, the age their mom was when she was diagnosedFeeling "between two worlds" during chemotherapyDon's question about fighting cancer and accepting death at onceWhy the recurrence was harder, and not feeling any more readyDeath cafes, therapy, and finding this podcast on InstagramA therapist's reframe: believing your body feeds the earth is a kind of belief, tooThe 30% figure they've never asked their oncologist aboutThis episode marks two years since the first episode of When We Die Talks. It's also the show's 100th call. Caller numbers and Anonymous episode numbers don't line up, since not every call becomes an episode, which is how the 100th call ended up as Anonymous #53. Thank you for listening, whether this is your first episode or you've been here since the start. Live Q&A: On October 8 at 5:30PM PDT, I'm doing my first-ever live Q&A on Substack. Ask me anything. You can send questions ahead of time by text, email, Substack or Instagram. Add it to your calendar here. Book recommendation: My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante. See the full list of Anonymous Book Recommendations here. Video Episode: If you'd like to watch this conversation instead of just listening, you can find the video version on YouTube. About When We Die Talks: When We Die Talks is a podcast built around anonymous conversations about death, loss, and how contemplating mortality shapes the way we live. If you’re new here, start with the Episode Guide. It’s designed to help you find conversations that match where you’re at—curiosity, grief, hesitation, or openness. Stay Connected 🌐 Website: whenwedietalks.com 📰 Substack: When We Die Talks 📸 Instagram: @whenwedietalks ▶️ YouTube: When We Die Talks ✉️ Email: zach@whenwedietalks.com Want to share your thoughts? Leave a voicemail at 971-328-0864 and share what you believe happens when we die. Messages may be featured in a future episode. If you’d like to have a full conversation, you can apply to be an anonymous caller at whenwedietalks.com.
