Tatiana Schlossberg, a granddaughter of President John F. Kennedy, faces a heartbreaking reality: a terminal cancer diagnosis with less than a year to live. The news came just hours after the joy of welcoming her daughter into the world, a cruel juxtaposition that has profoundly altered her perspective.
Diagnosed with myeloid leukemia in May 2024, Schlossberg, 35, learned from her doctor that current clinical trials might extend her life by a year – a fragile hope amidst overwhelming grief. Her most poignant fear isn’t her own passing, but the fading memories she’ll leave behind for her children.
She wrestles with the thought of her son’s recollections blurring with time, replaced by images and stories not born of their shared experiences. Even more agonizing is the uncertainty surrounding her infant daughter’s understanding of who she is, and whether a maternal bond will truly form before she’s gone.
Schlossberg, a respected environmental journalist, documented her ordeal in a deeply personal essay for the New Yorker, published on the 62nd anniversary of her grandfather’s assassination – a date imbued with its own weight of loss and remembrance.
The daughter of Caroline Kennedy and Edwin Schlossberg, Tatiana is also a sister to Jack and Rose Kennedy Schlossberg. She pursued her education at Yale and the University of Oxford, earning a master’s degree in US history before dedicating her career to writing about climate change and its impact.
Her article doesn’t shy away from confronting a painful family conflict. Schlossberg sharply criticizes her uncle, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., for his long-held skepticism towards vaccines, a stance she fears jeopardizes the health of vulnerable populations, including cancer survivors like herself.
She recounts her alarm at learning of funding cuts initiated by Kennedy Jr. as Secretary of Health and Human Services, specifically reductions to research into mRNA vaccines and substantial funding for the National Institutes of Health. These cuts directly threatened the very trials offering her a glimmer of hope.
Schlossberg also reveals a chilling moment of dependence on a medication – misoprostol, used to control postpartum hemorrhage – that is now “under review” by the Food and Drug Administration at her uncle’s urging. The thought of that life-saving drug being unavailable fills her with dread.
Myeloid leukemia, the cancer that grips her, is a relentless disease affecting the bone marrow and blood. It manifests in debilitating symptoms: persistent fatigue, fever, easy bruising, breathlessness, and unexplained weight loss – a constant physical reminder of the battle raging within.
Her father, who lived through a time when vaccines were a new and transformative medical advancement, shared with her the sense of liberation they brought. This memory underscores the profound impact of public health initiatives and the potential consequences of undermining them.
