What do you think?
What if marriage was only a five year contract which needed to be renewed at the end of each term?
What if there was no such thing as divorce, because if you wanted to end your marriage you simply had to wait out the five year period and not renew your marriage certificate?
How do you think this would alter relationships?
Would people try harder, because they knew that they had to “win” their spouse over and over again? (Would it make us all less complacent in our marriages?)
OR
Would people try less, because relationships would be seen as “disposable” or temporary? (Would it make us cherish our spouse less, because instead of promising them forever, you have promsied them five years?)
Also, do you think that if divorce wasn’t an option when entering into a irrevocable five year marriage contract that people would choose to marry more carefully?
You know that middle-of-the-night sex where you’re only half awake and then you fall asleep still connected to each other? I like that.
It’s weird to come back home and to life after being gone for a while. :p
Angelina Jolie on why she had a double mastectomy, and how it can save lives
My mother fought cancer for almost a decade and died at 56. She held out long enough to meet the first of her grandchildren and to hold them in her arms. But my other children will never have the chance to know her and experience how loving and gracious she was.
We often speak of “Mommy’s mommy,” and I find myself trying to explain the illness that took her away from us. They have asked if the same could happen to me. I have always told them not to worry, but the truth is I carry a “faulty” gene, BRCA1, which sharply increases my risk of developing breast cancer and ovarian cancer.
My doctors estimated that I had an 87 percent risk of breast cancer and a 50 percent risk of ovarian cancer, although the risk is different in the case of each woman.
Only a fraction of breast cancers result from an inherited gene mutation. Those with a defect in BRCA1 have a 65 percent risk of getting it, on average.
Once I knew that this was my reality, I decided to be proactive and to minimize the risk as much I could. I made a decision to have a preventive double mastectomy. I started with the breasts, as my risk of breast cancer is higher than my risk of ovarian cancer, and the surgery is more complex.
On April 27, I finished the three months of medical procedures that the mastectomies involved. During that time I have been able to keep this private and to carry on with my work.
But I am writing about it now because I hope that other women can benefit from my experience. Cancer is still a word that strikes fear into people’s hearts, producing a deep sense of powerlessness. But today it is possible to find out through a blood test whether you are highly susceptible to breast and ovarian cancer, and then take action.
My own process began on Feb. 2 with a procedure known as a “nipple delay,” which rules out disease in the breast ducts behind the nipple and draws extra blood flow to the area. This causes some pain and a lot of bruising, but it increases the chance of saving the nipple.
Two weeks later I had the major surgery, where the breast tissue is removed and temporary fillers are put in place. The operation can take eight hours. You wake up with drain tubes and expanders in your breasts. It does feel like a scene out of a science-fiction film. But days after surgery you can be back to a normal life.
Nine weeks later, the final surgery is completed with the reconstruction of the breasts with an implant. There have been many advances in this procedure in the last few years, and the results can be beautiful.
I wanted to write this to tell other women that the decision to have a mastectomy was not easy. But it is one I am very happy that I made. My chances of developing breast cancer have dropped from 87 percent to under 5 percent. I can tell my children that they don’t need to fear they will lose me to breast cancer.
It is reassuring that they see nothing that makes them uncomfortable. They can see my small scars and that’s it. Everything else is just Mommy, the same as she always was. And they know that I love them and will do anything to be with them as long as I can. On a personal note, I do not feel any less of a woman. I feel empowered that I made a strong choice that in no way diminishes my femininity.
I am fortunate to have a partner, Brad Pitt, who is so loving and supportive. So to anyone who has a wife or girlfriend going through this, know that you are a very important part of the transition. Brad was at the Pink Lotus Breast Center, where I was treated, for every minute of the surgeries. We managed to find moments to laugh together. We knew this was the right thing to do for our family and that it would bring us closer. And it has.
For any woman reading this, I hope it helps you to know you have options. I want to encourage every woman, especially if you have a family history of breast or ovarian cancer, to seek out the information and medical experts who can help you through this aspect of your life, and to make your own informed choices.
I acknowledge that there are many wonderful holistic doctors working on alternatives to surgery. My own regimen will be posted in due course on the Web site of the Pink Lotus Breast Center. I hope that this will be helpful to other women.
Breast cancer alone kills some 458,000 people each year, according to the World Health Organization, mainly in low- and middle-income countries. It has got to be a priority to ensure that more women can access gene testing and lifesaving preventive treatment, whatever their means and background, wherever they live. The cost of testing for BRCA1 and BRCA2, at more than $3,000 in the United States, remains an obstacle for many women.
I choose not to keep my story private because there are many women who do not know that they might be living under the shadow of cancer. It is my hope that they, too, will be able to get gene tested, and that if they have a high risk they, too, will know that they have strong options.
Life comes with many challenges. The ones that should not scare us are the ones we can take on and take control of.

Youre such a wonderful mother. Do you think jack will take over the vigils one day? He seems like a good guy.
Thanks. I was down in the lobby working with Husband until a little while ago.
When I entered our room, 17 was sleeping like a rock and Jack was sitting in the chair watching her in the dark. His hair was all messed up and he was pale with this wild look on his eyes.
“She keeps coughing. She did her inhaler, but she’s still coughing. Should we wake her up? I didn’t know…”
Poor kid. I assured him that this isn’t cause for alarm and told him to put his headphones in to drown her out.
He’s sleeping now while I wait for the room to get humid enough, then I’ll turn off the shower.
Her cough is tight, which means her lungs are reacting to something. It’s not very frequent, so I think the shower will do the trick. (When her lungs close, she coughs. When they open again, she coughs more. I think the shower is opening them.)
I know her coughs and what they mean. To Jack, they’re all cause for alarm. He dotes on her.
I don’t know if Jack will be the one to care for her someday. Poor guy would probably never sleep again. ;)
Vigil
I’m in the hotel room with Jack and 17. Husband is off somewhere working. 17 is asleep and coughing. Jack is alarmed.
I’ve got the shower going hot to steam up our room a bit, and I told Jack to put his ear buds in with some music so he can sleep.
She has always coughed at night. I don’t know why. It’s somehow tied to her asthma. But night is always when it starts.
So I’m here in bed thinking of all of the nights before this when I stayed awake monitoring her cough and her breathing. Starting back when I could hold her in one arm. Like all of the nights before this, she doesn’t know I am keeping vigil.
I’ll turn the shower off in a bit, but I’ll sleep with an ear turned her way and I’ll hear every sound she makes. Every deep breath, every sigh, every cough. My eyes will open and I’ll listen to make sure she’s okay. Then I’ll sleep again until she makes another sound.
17 years. So many nights. So many different places where I have been awake while everyone else sleeps.
You’d think I’d be ready to end this responsibility, but I find myself dreading the day when she moves away and I am no longer able to make sure she gets through these nights.
I’d do it all over again. Every last sleepless moment.









