The one-year anniversary (by Susan G)

So today is the first anniversary of my original diagnosis.  As I sit looking out my dining room window, admiring the beautiful color of the leaves, I breathe a sigh of relief that this is this year, and not last year.  That I’m over the major surgery, that the shock of learning I have cancer has gradually decreased, and that I no longer shed tears at the drop of a hat.   I found a toughness within for facing adverse situations that has surprised even me. 

And, I’ve found where I have breaking points, especially trying to manage my continued impatience and irritation at all the multiple doctor visits still required, and that I’ve got another 11 months of Herceptin treatments ahead of me.   When you have no choice but to show up, and that process keeps going beyond a year, it really does make it harder to cope, to dig a little deeper within your soul to resist complaining.  Honestly, I’m tired of the needles and my veins that never cooperate, and I’m tired of medical statements and the careful budgeting of our weekly paycheck to pay for all the procedures, and most of all, I’m tired of the low energy levels that always occur after another surgery/procedure, and just thinking about this disease!

I pride myself on my positive attitude, and that I choose to work really hard for a non-profit that helps women in much worse financial or medical situations than I have.  These two things never fail to rejuvenate me and they work in conjunction to keep the blues away.   I know a good attitude is a choice, and that every one of us would much rather spend time with an individual that can forget their own problems, and instead helps others with theirs.  I know laughter is contagious and will warm your soul every time you engage in it.  I know there isn’t another human being out there who isn’t dealing with some sort of big problem, that when given a choice, I would probably not want to trade my life for theirs. 

 I also know people continue to amaze me, at their kindness, their generosity, and their willingness to help.   They show up when called upon, they contribute when asked, and they share a different perspective that many times ends up being just the “shot in the arm” I needed that day!

 There isn’t a better feeling than the one that comes when you know you’ve made a difference in the life of another human being, when you see that you’ve brought joy, love or help when it was so badly needed.  No fancy title in the Office, no huge monthly paycheck, no glamorous house, car or jewelry will ever provide the same satisfaction that helping someone truly in need can.   So I’m grateful on this one year anniversary – grateful that I’m still here – grateful that I can still contribute my time and my talents.     I’m also grateful that last year I didn’t know what lay ahead for me in 2009;  for I’ve found it much easier to cope with or accept lousy things that happen to you when you didn’t know they were coming…….it reminds me how truly compassionate God really is.

Another Pink Ribbon? (by Susan G)

Enough all ready!  Is it just me or are you tired too of the excessive overuse of the pink-ribbon?  I can’t even buy yogurt without being reminded of my disease, and is there really a market out there for a “pink ribbon rolling-pin” to make a pie?   

 I recently googled the subject of: “pink ribbon” merchandise, and here is just a small sampling of what you can purchase now that has the pink ribbon imprinted on it:  paper clips, candles, nail file, tree ornament, air freshener, mouse pad, scrap-book paper, calendar, travel mug, hat or visor, too many different jewelry pieces to even start counting, pillow, wine cork, wine charms, golf towel, any type of clothing item you can imagine, a coffee scoop, dessert server, salt and pepper shakers, etc. 

 Last week when I went for my “once every three weeks” infusion at the hospital, they were selling pink and white M&M’s, and yes, I know these ribbon-logo’d items contribute a small percentage of money for research, but wouldn’t you agree that corporate America is exploiting this disease to sell anything now from chocolate to vehicles?  Even the liquor industry has decided they’d like a piece of the action, and have capitalized on this emotional subject with a new Pink Ribbon wine selection?   The website/advertisement says:  “For every bottle of our premium Pink Ribbon Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon sold, we will make a donation to the Breast Cancer Research Foundation.”    So despite the medical research that shows that alcohol can contribute directly to breast cancer, please don’t forget to put this Premium Pink Ribbon chardonnay in your pink ribbon wine glass, with its pink ribbon wine charm, etc., etc.! 

Every store I’ve walked into this month has a “pink” section, and now as an official “sur-thriver,” I find myself having little to no interest in looking at or purchasing it.  Frankly if I never saw another looped pink ribbon, I’d be thrilled – it is to often a painful reminder of the disease I and 2.5 million other “sur-thrivers” live with every day.  Trust me, I am very grateful that this disease has received recognition, and that so many people are supporting the need for continued research.   However, I’m also a bit cynical, for I believe we have all been emotionally hi-jacked, lead to believe that by simply opening our purses to purchase a “pink ribbon” item, that we can be so personally instrumental in funding/finding the cure for breast cancer. 

 I think it’s time to start asking questions – opening our eyes –  educating ourselves, and becoming acutely aware of how much of the hard-earned after-tax charity dollars we give are really going to breast cancer research.  Have you ever heard of a website called:  “charity navigator?”  www.charitynavigator.org?   It is a wonderful resource for checking things like what percentage of dollars raised go to fund-raising efforts, administrative expenses, etc.?  This site rates each charity on its efficiency – I know I was surprised to learn what the salary levels were, including those for major charities that fund breast cancer research.    I think this drives home the fact that big is not always better, and where small businesses have no choice but to be lean and mean, big businesses can sometimes go astray.     

 Most recently, I found myself questioning whether I wanted to continue giving to another one of my favorite charities, when I received a very expensive invitation from them to an upcoming Event, which was charging $250 a person just to attend, (then they couldn’t even hand write our name on the envelope, putting our last name first, then my husband’s name, comma, my name).   I added up mentally in my mind the cost I knew was expended to print up that invitation, send it out, organize the upcoming Event, pay the star-studded entertainers, and said to myself, “I don’t think you are spending my hard-earned after-tax dollar contributions that wisely anymore.”  In other words, I’m holding them accountable, and if they decided they don’t need to watch how they spend their money now that they have grown to a very large size,  well, I guess I can decide I don’t need to support them anymore!    

 

 So I’m asking you too to be more aware – do your research, ask the hard questions, and make sure the Charity you are choosing to support is respectful and mindful of their donors, and that they haven’t forgotten what their original mission or cause was.

The Casting Party (by Susan G)

It was Saturday, November 29, 2008  - I held my “casting party.”  I invited only a few select women that I trust with my whole heart.  First, we opened a bottle or two of some wonderful red wine, and my friends were so wonderful, working together to keep the conversation light and fun!  It was a messy process, but teamwork assured the casting turned out really great.  I’m so grateful they they heped me create this physical remembrance of what I look like now.  Years from now, my wish is that it will be a beautiful piece of glass art, and there won’t be sadness when it is viewed, but rather there will be an appreciation of the imperfect but beautiful human form we all are born with and possess. 

Sigh….the unavoidable part of life is that we must continuously adjust to change; I’m ready to make this transition now and am so glad that tomorrow is December 1.  It means the surgery date is very near, (only four days more), and finally we will have some answers to where we are at, and what the next steps will be. 

My 86 year old mother came over on Sunday, and we spent a nice day together shopping and cooking; I told her I had picked a Psalm that I want spoken before my surgery.  She said, “Oh, I hope it is Psalm 103.”  I smiled, and said, “how did you know?”  She got tears in her eyes, and said, “I didn’t, but I’m so happy you picked this Psalm.”    The Psalm is considered a praise for the Lord’s mercies, and gives the many benefits we receive for trusting in the Lord, including the fact that he pardons, he heals, he redeems and he always takes care of his children. 

The comfort I feel from reading this Psalm is because I trust the Lord will heal my body, and redeem me as I give up my present breasts for new ones.

 

Can the breast reconstruction surgeon help heal the mind too? (by Susan G)

The experience of having both of your breasts removed is hard to describe.  On December 4, 2008 I can still clearly remember the ride to the hospital that morning.  We merged into rush hour traffic, and as I glanced at the passengers in the many cars around us, I found myself wondering what kind of day were they going to have?   Surely, it had to be better than what I was going to have!  I envied that some would stop at a local coffee shop to get their morning dose of kava; yes, even a simple cup of coffee would have provided immense comfort to me at that moment in time.  And I thought about all the women who would return home from work that day, and without even thinking about it, would remove their bra, and let their breasts relax, as they either changed into their workout clothes, pj’s or took a bath/shower.  It’s a ritual that I knew I would never again do, and sadly, was going to miss.

My husband was silent beside me; he was hurting, and nothing I could say would help.  I was numb, keeping the emotions locked down deep within, yet I knew my life tomorrow and each day after were going to be profoundly different.  My greatest fear was how to  deal with any raw emotions when waking up from surgery.   I whispered, “Dear God, don’t let me cry or carry on when I awaken, knowing full well that underneath the corset now is only two square blocks of gauze, covering each side of my chest, which now showcases nothing more than a row of neat stitches.

When I awoke, I hoped the bra type corset would have a feminine pattern on it, or some type of pretty lace, but it didn’t.  However, I was pleasantly surprised to see two little bumps; the stretchers had also been inserted during the many hours in the operating room, and saline solution put in them to give me some type of semblance of what used to be there.  I was glad I had chosen to have both procedures done at the same time; it was almost unbearable for me to think about how sad it must be for other women who don’t opt for reconstruction, and go home with nothing, but a flat and very swollen chest.   I imagined they felt a hollow, empty feeling, similar to how a soldier feels when losing a limb(s), acutely aware that a part of them was gone forever.

We had arrived at 7AM, and by 7PM that night I was in my private room.  It had been a  very long day, and now a relatively quiet night, interrupted only occasionally by a nurse to check my blood pressure, pain level, etc.  It was barely 6AM the next morning when my plastic surgeon stopped by to check on me.  His eyes were warm and compassionate, and he spoke to me in a soothing and quiet tone.  I knew we were Allies now – I would work on resting and healing, while he would work on re-constructing my upper chest area back to what again would resemble a female, feminine body.  I was so grateful that I had picked Dr. Daniel Sherbert – he had done a fellowship in breast reconstruction, and was deeply respected by his peers and patients alike.  But more importantly, it was obvious he really “liked” women, and had a deep respect for their strength and resolve when facing adversity.  Let me digress here for a moment; there are many men in this world who love but don’t like women, they see us only as a means for an end, which is to satisfy their own needs!   However, a truly mature and wise man is able to look beyond this, and also recognize and admire the many attributes that women bring to the table.  He is secure in what and who he is, which means he is not threatened by a strong woman, but instead finds her refreshing, though sometimes a challenge.   I’m very lucky, for I’m married to one of those men who really “likes” women, and I knew it was a pre-requisite I wasn’t going to back down on when deciding upon which male plastic surgeon would do my reconstruction.  The doctor I chose had to be a person who deeply respected and liked women as a whole.  It was important to my mental healing, which brings us to the other side of recovering from breast surgery – the emotional side.

You can’t describe to any one, (especially other women who still have their breasts), the anxiety you begin to feel after going through this procedure.  You wonder whether you’ll ever again feel like you are physically attractive to the opposite sex, (regardless if you are married or in a serious relationship).  The weird dreams you start having only validate your newfound insecurities and feelings of raw exposure.  Seven months after my initial surgery, I had to have one of my stretchers removed, and let the incision heal for a minimum of two – three months before we could start the process again.  It was my worst nightmare – looking down now everyday, and seeing nothing but a flat flap of skin with a straight dark pink scar where the stitches had been – I can only describe it as an area that looks very angry.  I started having frequent dreams of being naked in public, and searching frantically for some piece of cloth or clothing to cover me.  I also had vivid dreams of being sexually intimate with old boyfriends, even an ex-husband, etc., and wondered why I wasn’t dreaming instead of my own present husband?  Then it hit me – the A-HA moment: I wasn’t dreaming of my husband because I felt he had an obligation to still act like he was sexually attracted to me, (and even if he wasn’t, I was sure  he could fake it pretty good), so unfortunately, he couldn’t serve as validation for me that I was still sexually attractive.  It had to be another man, one I felt comfortable with and trusted to be honest.  When these feelings start coming out in every women varies, it can happen right after surgery, or six months later like mine did.  You tell yourself, it doesn’t matter and in the scheme of things, it really isn’t important, but then you realize that losing both of your breasts really does do a mind game to your head!  So in case you are wondering, no, I don’t plan on going out and having any affairs to validate my sexuality is still alive and well.  And yes, the dreams have stopped now that I’ve acknowledged the feelings, and worked through them.

This isn’t just a male/female issue either – you also get a lot of curious inquiries from the female gender:  I’ve had women ask me, “why did you chose to remove both your breasts when only one was diagnosed with cancer?  “are you sure you want to go through reconstruction?” “Do you know what size you want to be?”  “I think you are big enough now – you aren’t going to go any bigger, are you?  “Are you going to go through the bother of also reconstructing your nipples?”   “Do you really want to risk silicone implants – what if they break and leak?   Remarkably I feel no obligation to answer any of their questions;  I understand most women have no base of reference, and the women who do know better than to ask.

So Dr. Sherbert – thank you for choosing a field where you help women recover from a traumatic surgery both physically and mentally.   We depend on you to make us feel whole again, and incredibly when we look in the mirror, we start to smile!

The Tea Party at the Whitney (by Susan G)

 

Muriel and I recently attended a charity event sponsored by Komen’s Race for the Cure; it was a fashion show featuring the latest designs of Detroit’s own Mr. Song, (if you don’t recognize the name, perhaps Aretha’s Hat at the Obama Inauguration will jog your memory).  The event was held at the Whitney, a rare and beautiful gem that still shines brightly despite the depressed economic environment it is located in. 

 The hats were fabulous; Muriel and I took an opportunity to go upstairs and try on several after the show was finished.  Wow – that was so much fun!  We spent a gazillion dollars in our imagination, and dreamed about all the special occasions we could find an excuse to wear one of the creations!  It also brought back memories of when we were children, and how everyone use to dress up, men and women wore hats for everything from a simple occasion like going to the Store or Sunday Church,  to attending a fancy restaurant or wedding.  And just for an afternoon, we too were turning back the hands of time.  There we sat, in one of four rooms filled with women, all dressed beautifully in their assortment of colorful wide brimmed and feather hats.  We sipped our tea out of beautiful hand painted china, we ate our little finger sandwiches, and we made a vow to do this more often; it was social networking at its best!!

 I realized this is the first Event since my diagnosis that I have attended that is raising monies to try to find a cure for a disease that I have.  Somehow I didn’t feel differently, nor did I feel a glimmer of hope – perhaps because I am cynical that this will not happen within my lifetime; after all our Nation’s brightest and best researchers have been working fervently in the last 25 + years without any statistically significant progress in reducing the mortality rates of breast cancer. 

  I believe my cynical nature is also part of my defense mechanism; I see no value in dwelling or thinking about how I too have a real possibility of dying from this disease.  Ironically, what happens to most of us after being diagnosed is that when other people hear about it, they often open their mouths before thinking, and they say: “oh yes, breast cancer, I had a (friend, relative, sister, mother, etc.) who died of that.”    Well, believe it or not, this statement does not make a present breast cancer survivor feel very cheery!   In fact, it only reminds us once again of how vulnerable of a position we really are in.  It also discounts the disease to a status of having the flu or a common cold, and unfortunately there have been so many of us who have and are facing it, that people have become blasé about the subject.  Of course, the relevance is always equivalent to who is experiencing it! 

I’m glad we attended the Afternoon Tea; our objective was to gain some additional exposure for our cause, to network with people who may be able to help us in expanding our circle of influence.   Like anything else that is worthwhile, it requires time, tenancity, and passion, and sometimes a little luck! 

But next time you meet a new breast cancer survivor, please think before you speak, and don’t give them a look of pity.  Smile, squeeze their hand, or give them a hug.  If you can’t think of anything positive to say, just tell them to please stay strong, and promise you will keep them in your prayers.  BTW – I met Diana and Glenda Lewis (the Nation’s only mother/daughter team on the same News team); they were the narrators for the fashion show, and I told them briefly about The Pink Fund and my personal experience with breast cancer – they are two very classy and loving ladies, and they both gave me a hug!

 

   

 

Muriel, Susan G and Rebecca enjoying their tea!

Here comes the Bride!

Hope she has an open carriage to ride to the church!

 

When is a Breast Cancer Survivor “officially recovered” (by Susan G)

So the big question now is how do you know when you are officially “recovered?”  There isn’t a certificate that comes in the mail, there isn’t a stamp that says “physically well again” for my driver’s license, and there isn’t an end date to put on the calendar.  The medical profession uses the five-year marker as an indication that you are a true survivor, but I’ve learned that time periods can be deceiving.   The doctors will tell you that unless you’ve gone 20 years or more without a recurrence, you are not yet officially free of breast cancer.  The only physical signs that things are improving include noticing how the number of weekly doctor appointments has decreased significantly, the number of afternoon naps I’m taking are way down, and the number of prescription bottles on the counter are less than before.  However, the medical bills are still arriving daily – the backlog is so bad that last week I received a letter summarizing a doctor visit I had 8 months ago! 

 Emotionally I know I’ve been on a roller coaster, and feel like I’ve used up my extra adrenaline supply for the next five years.  I now feel basically numb.  Have you ever stood back, reviewed what you’ve recently been through, and said to yourself, “what the heck just happened to me?”

 Yesterday I went to the Cancer Center at Beaumont for a yoga session with Molly; I arrived late, so I decided to use the time instead to walk around and explore the Resource Library; there is a full size model of the human body with parts that detach, so you can see the entire workings of the body.  I was obviously very interested in seeing what the breast tissue looked like underneath the skin and nipple, and it reminded me physically of an orange when peeled.  Underneath that was the muscles and tissue of the chest wall; I tried to find the pectoral muscles to see how they were pulled forward to create the new foundation for my reconstruction, but it wasn’t labeled.  However I could see all the ribs, the muscles and how close the Liver is to the heart and breasts, and all the other organs packed so tightly within.  There is no doubt – our bodies are amazing, and when they function correctly, it is truly a mechanical machine that is near genius.  But where I once trusted my body to take good care of me, I’ve found that ignorant bliss is now gone.  I have to try now to take care of my body, hoping that I’m doing all the right things to nurture and protect it.  Long-term I will ultimately fail, but hope that that time is far far away, and that I have a lot of life left to live in the interim.   And since these phrases have so much ambiguity around them, I find myself trying to define what “a lot of life left to live” looks like?” Is it a number like five, ten or twenty years more?  Just how far away is far far away? 

 Yes, I don’t think I am officially “recovered” yet from this thing called breast cancer.  I think it is a passageway that I still am walking through, with many more lessons to learn.   The range of emotions are mind-boggling, so I have learned how to compartmentalize most of them, letting them out when I’m feeling less tired and more able to work through them.   Sadly, I see a lot of women refuse to do this mental exercise called “working through the feelings;” they let stuff like work, the kids, the day to day chores take priority.  They like to use those things to create a diversion.  They smugly pat themselves on the back because they were a “Trooper,” they hardly missed a beat during the surgery, re-construction, radiation or chemo!  Many women keep it a secret at the office too, fearing if someone finds out, it will be used against them, or they could be passed over for future promotions.  Yes, they keep on going, not stopping once to ponder on why it would be so important to take time to heal emotionally; rationalizing that this can happen on its own time, maybe or hopefully while they sleep?  What they fail to recognize is that the body does keep track of the range of emotions even if they aren’t, and when they least expect it, things will eventually explode or implode.   The form of explosion varies, but the point here is face, acknowledge and deal with the feelings upfront – it’s not fun, but so much healthier.

Susan G’s personal story

You will never forget where you were when you received the news that “you have breast cancer.”  In the many chapters of your life, this event will always have a significant memory associated with it.  In a split second you join a new sisterhood, standing side by side with thousands of other women who have gone before you, to face and conquer this demon.  You realize that not all have been successful, so you start to worry immediately about what statistical group you will be part of when the medical journals are printed five years from now?  You quickly learn that every woman’s case is unique, and it’s hard to compare notes on diagnosis, treatment plan or outcome, because there are so many variables that come into play.

 New habits start to form – like crying when you take a shower now because the surgery date has been scheduled, and you know the breasts you feel and are looking at will never be the same or soon will be gone.  Like kneeling on your knees in prayer often now because it’s been a while since you’ve asked God for help, and this is a really big problem that you hope he has time for.   Like researching on-line what medical phrases or terminology means when doctors talk to you about things like grade, stage, mass size, hormone receptive, sentinel nodes, etc.   Like waking up at 3AM in the morning now, wondering why this is happening to you, and trying to rationalize the reasons why the decisions you need to make are the right ones for you.

 You will discover that holding it together for yourself is not half as hard as trying to help others hold it together because they are scared to lose you.   You will find an inner strength that you hoped you’d possess for coping in situations like this, but also secretly hoped you’d never have to personally put to use.  You will find yourself in weird situations like being in a room full of women, all chatting pleasantly, waiting to get their annual routine mammogram, oblivious to the fact that you are nervously waiting too, but your appointment is for your second ultrasound needle biopsy to see if the cancer has spread any further.  You wish you could magically turn back the hands of time – realizing you’d almost be willing to sell your soul to switch places with just one of them. 

 The trauma to your physical being is only one of many areas that must heal as you go through your treatment; emotionally and spiritually there is trauma too.  So give yourself permission to “lose it” once in a while – after all, being diagnosed with breast cancer is no picnic in the park!  However, you are not alone, so resist going solo and reach out, because this is a disease that has no boundaries, no prejudice on who it picks on, and sadly there is no shortage of women out there who can help you, who understand exactly what you are going through, and can give you support when you need it most.  So use your resources, and listen to your intuition – sometimes it will be smarter than even your doctors are – never ever forget it is your body, and you are the one who has control to decide what will or will not be done!  It is not your doctor’s responsibility but yours, and don’t take the free ride on your own life. 

 This is a journey, and you will quickly learn that it isn’t about whether you reach the destination, but instead how much you learned and grew a long the way.  You will gain new friends, new confidence, and possibly a few bra or cup sizes if you go for reconstruction like I did!   Though you will never ever again be the same, remember that attitude is a choice – if you embrace the change, great things will happen. Find every opportunity you can to laugh – it is a true healer of the soul.  Keep track of your progress – congratulate and reward yourself for being strong.  Realize and look forward to the day when you too will reach out your hand to another scared, newly diagnosed woman, and let her know it will be okay – you will have the experience and wisdom to look her straight in the eyes, and tell her I know what you are going through, but this too shall pass, you will prevail!!!.

Being the “Plebe” at 2009 Race for the Cure (by Susan G)

When you attend Westpointe, the freshman year automatically titles you as the “plebe.”   You are the youngest, least experienced, under-graduate, and the Upper Classmen take great delight in letting you know how much wiser they are than you! 

I felt like a “plebe” last Saturday, as I attended the “Race for a Cure” for the first time as a breast cancer survivor.  I felt overwhelmed by the hundreds of pink shirts I saw, (they indicated a survivor, and had the words Hope, Survivor, and Believe written on the front).  I knew I had earned the right to wear one of those pink shirts too, but also felt sad that I was now a member of this special club!   I was only a 6-month survivor, compared to others who had 5, 10, and 20 years of survival all ready behind them.  I found myself almost envying them – they had achieved what I’m hoping to achieve.   

 I started walking in “Race for a Cure” years ago when I worked for Ford Motor Company, and the first couple of years I did it mainly for the exercise and a chance to get together with friends.  Then I lost my Mother in law and good friend both to Breast Cancer in the same year, and that year I walked in memory of them both; now the walk took on a new dimension, a significance that hadn’t been there before.   I quit walking the event a few years back; I had grown indifferent because so many years had passed, so many millions had been raised, and yet, it seemed the progress against beating breast cancer was painfully slow.   

 Now I was back to attending the Event again,  and for a second time the walk took on a new significance.  I noticed that other survivors who saw my pink shirt would meet my eyes now.  There were no words exchanged, our eyes said all the things we were thinking:   “I’m sorry you had to go through this, I know how hard it is, please stay strong, you look to young to have breast cancer, how do you feel about your new boobs?  You haven’t forgotten how to laugh, have you?      It brought tears to my eyes.

 They had a best t-shirt contest, and it was fun to read some of the sayings the walkers had created:  my favorite was an army camo shirt that said “Stop the war on my rack.”  There was another that had trucks and cars on it that said, “Save the boy’s toys!”  A third had a bumblebee on it and said – “Save the boob-bees.”  Mike bought a pink t-shirt that said, “Real Men wear Pink.” 

 The morning was productive – we passed out close to a 1000 cards about the Pink Fund.  Molly got a live interview with Fox 2 which generated some traffic and contributions on our website.  Mike worked on passing out water, yogurt and the cards to the walkers. 

 So I guess this school is just like any other – you put your time in, and each year advance to a new grade.   The only difference is the graduation party – we celebrate annually instead of every four years.  Though I-didn’t like being the “plebe” this year,  I was inspired by the hundreds of women before me.  Their strength, their endurance, their sense of humor and their determination to help stamp out this thing called breast cancer reminds me how many of us are involved in this fight.  Surely this “Band of Sisters” can make a difference for the young women who follow up behind us. 

 

 -

Grateful Hearts

Gratitude. It is something we are advised to express daily. It can come in the form of prayer, thanking God for His provision. It can come in the form of a phone call, acknowledging another’s contribution to your life.

 It can come in the form of a donation to help an organization continue its mission. And it come can in the form of a recipient who can breathe easier because a burden has been lifted.

Last night Susan G and I telephoned a young woman in treatment for breast cancer to tell her we would be making her June rent payment. For a moment there was no response and I had to ask, “Are you still there?”

I heard a long sigh of relief and then, “Yes, oh my God, thank you.”

 A divorced mother of two young daughters (her ex husband is not making child support payments) , she  is also caring for her disabled mother. The family was getting by until January when she was diagnosed with breast cancer and laid off from her job. As the months passed, what little savings they had dwindled to nothing.   Fear and despair set in.

It is hard to focus on recovering, when fear grips your heart.  I know this all too well.

This morning, I opened my email to find a note of gratitude.

“I would like to thank you again from the bottom of my heart. I promise when my life is straightened out that I will do what ever I can to help this organization. You can’t even begin to understand how much stress you have taken away from me and my mother. Thank you and God Bless you!!!

I cried . I always do.   And then I thanked God for the privilege of helping another human being.

From the bottom of my heart, I am grateful.

When a National Company Supports a Local Endeavor

It is always a great thing when a national retailer, in this case Chicos, www.chicos.com takes and
interest in a local organization; in our case, The Pink Fund.

Last fall, a representative from Chicos called to ask us to consider participating in two shopping days during October, where a percentage of sales for shoppers who identified themselves as wanting to shop for The Pink Fund, would result in a donation to us.

All the Michigan stores participated and yesterday, a nice size check arrived in the mail, just in time to make a couple of direct bill payments for women in active treatment.

Thanks to all the Michigan Chicos shoppers who made this happen and to Chicos Michigan stores for their participation.

You have eased the burden for a breast cancer patient. And she is grateful.

So are we—and hoping we can do this again.