Tatiana Schlossberg’s brother, Jack Schlossberg, is showing his support after his sister revealed her terminal cancer diagnosis.
On Saturday, November 22, Tatiana, 35, revealed in an essay titled “A Battle with My Blood,” published by The New Yorker, that she was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia after welcoming her second baby in May 2024. In the essay, Tatiana says she has been given one year to live as a result of her diagnosis.
“I did not — could not — believe that they were talking about me. I had swum a mile in the pool the day before, nine months pregnant. I wasn’t sick. I didn’t feel sick. I was actually one of the healthiest people I knew,” she wrote. “I had a son whom I loved more than anything and a newborn I needed to take care of.”
Hours later, Jack — who is currently running for Congress in the hopes of representing New York’s 12th congressional district, a seat currently held by Rep. Jerrold Nadler — shared a screenshot of the essay along with a link via his Instagram Stories. In another post, he shared a separate screen shot of the essay’s opening paragraph.
“When you are dying, at least in my limited experience, you start remembering everything,” the paragraph reads. “Images come in flashes — people and places and stray conversations — and refuse to stop. I see my best friend from elementary school as we make a mud pie in her back yard, top it with candles and a tiny American flag, and watch, in panic, as the flag catches fire. I see my college boyfriend wearing boat shoes a few days after a record-breaking snowstorm, slipping and falling into a slush puddle. I want to break up with him, so I laugh until I can’t breathe.”
In an apparent response to his sister’s essay, Jack also wrote, “Life is short — let it rip.” The saying was first featured over a close-up picture of a road, also shared to his Instagram Stories. In another post, the same message was shared over a photo of a sky.
Tatiana — who shares her 3-year-old son and 1-year-old daughter with her husband, George Mora — thanked Jack and their older sister, Rose Schlossberg, in the essay.
“George did everything for me that he possibly could,” she wrote in her emotional essay. “He talked to all the doctors and insurance people that I didn’t want to talk to; he slept on the floor of the hospital; he didn’t get mad when I was raging on steroids and yelled at him that I did not like Schweppes ginger ale, only Canada Dry. He would go home to put our kids to bed and come back to bring me dinner.”
She continued, “My parents and my brother and sister, too, have been raising my children and sitting in my various hospital rooms almost every day for the last year and a half. They have held my hand unflinchingly while I have suffered, trying not to show their pain and sadness in order to protect me from it. This has been a great gift, even though I feel their pain every day.”
Tatiana also shared how her diagnosis made her automatically think about her young children and what their life — and their memories — will be like without her.
“My first thought was that my kids, whose faces live permanently on the inside of my eyelids, wouldn’t remember me,” she said of learning of her terminal diagnosis. “My son might have a few memories, but he’ll probably start confusing them with pictures he sees or stories he hears. I didn’t ever really get to take care of my daughter — I couldn’t change her diaper or give her a bath or feed her, all because of the risk of infection after my transplants. I was gone for almost half of her first year of life. I don’t know who, really, she thinks I am, and whether she will feel or remember, when I am gone, that I am her mother.”
Read the full article here
