Walking and Talking

My neighbor Gloria and I try to walk in the early mornings a few times a week. It's wonderful to get out of the house, walk around a lake or two, see the herons, eagles, and other walkers and runners with their dogs.

While starting up Chemossentials I bounced a lot of ideas off of Gloria during these walks. She is a clear thinker and a very creative individual. She has also experienced breast cancer so she offers a valuable perspective.

During our walks over the last few weeks I've hogged the conversation with my issues. I have four dear friends who are experiencing cancer treatments. They are fighting lung, bladder, pancreatic and breast cancer. Gloria has been a wonderful listener and a good friend, but really it was time for me to change the topic. I decided to try to be a more upbeat walking companion. No more talking about cancer--listening more, talking less--enjoying the beautiful morning --all of these things were my goals for our next walk.

We had a good walk and a good talk that day. As we were nearing home we came up behind a woman walking a Basenji. I love that breed--they are from Africa, are said to be able to climb trees and they yodel instead of bark--what's not to love? I caught the owner's eye and expressed my admiration for her dog. Her face crumbed. She took a deep breath and told us that her dog had cancer and this was the last walk that they would share.

Wow, I did not see that one coming. What are the chances of us meeting someone with a story like that?

I've been thinking about why we met up with that woman and her wonderful Besenji. All I have come up with is that Gloria and I are both dog -lovers and we have both, in our own ways, dealt with cancer. I hope that we were able to say something to her that was helpful. I hope that she could feel how sorry we were. I hope that we helped.

I keep thinking about her and her dog ---I hope that they are both peaceful.

Putting Our Heads Together

After receiving a cancer diagnosis it's reported that one of the first questions women ask is, "Will I lose my hair?" Being bald is a huge blow to your self-esteem. It can be the first and most visible sign that you have cancer.

Vickie Girard, author of "There's No Place Like Hope" wrote, "When I lost my hair, my eyelashes, my eyebrows, I felt as if I were being erased...Hair loss allows our illness to enter the room before our name."

Depending on the type of chemo drug being used, hair loss often happens sometime after the second treatment. Women are advised to be proactive and cut their hair before it can fall out clump by clump. That's what many of my friends have done--and they say it was sad, cathartic and liberating all at the same time.

For many women getting a great wig is a must. Again, lots of advice is offered about when and where to get a wig. Thankfully many affordable and wonderful looking wigs are available. Nonetheless, the insecurities and sadness that result from hair loss can be considerable.

After experiencing and processing the initial shock and sadness, my friends have been very "matter of fact" about this situation. They go on with their lives telling themselves and others that hair loss is an indication that the chemo is working.

I have always marveled at their resilience. I wanted to do something tangible to support my friends. I decided to grow my hair long enough to donate to an organization that makes wigs for individuals going through cancer treatments. In fact, I wanted to follow in the foot steps of my 10 year old niece, Hannah. Last winter she donated about 14 inches of her thick, fabulous red hair. Imitating her good example felt right, so it was a shock when I discovered that the amount of gray in my hair (and here I should say that no one, not even me, really knows exactly how gray I am because I have my hair artfully colored) made me a less than desirable donor. Ouch.

I quickly came up with another plan. When in trouble turn to family. My younger daughter, Lauren, has beautiful, straight, shiny hair-she could make the donation.

Here's what you need to know about Lauren--she also lives with a diagnosis--pervasive developmental delay. She is 23 years old and functions at the level of a 2-3 year old. Don't feel sorry for her or for us. She is one of the most wonderful individuals that you will ever meet. She is funny, stubborn and very, very social. Virginia Woolf could have been thinking of Lauren when she advised, "Arrange whatever pieces come your way." Lauren has done just that. And along the way she has helped us learn how to manage some of the more difficult "pieces" that life has thrown at us.

When Lauren was a baby we felt like all we could do was react to the reports the doctors gave us. We felt powerless. That must sound all too familiar to anyone who has gone thorough cancer treatments.

Lauren had her own way of reacting to her prognosis, she just keep on living her life, having fun and being her goofy little self. The rest of us took note and decided that all we really needed to do was support Lauren and be happy as a family.

We also learned that Lauren has a lot to contribute to any situation--and in this situation it was going to be her beautiful hair. So we did some research and found -- Pantene Beautiful Lengths --a non-profit organization that uses donated hair to create real-hair wigs that are given free-of-charge to women going through cancer treatments.

We want you to know about Pantene Beautiful Lengths. Check it out at http://www.beautifullengths.com/

So now, somewhere, a woman is sporting a shiny black wig that contains some of Lauren's hair. Another woman, a red head this time, is feeling good about herself because of Hannah.


Here are some pictures of Lauren getting her hair cut. Cindy --our wonderful stylist--was excited to be a part of this process. Cindy has had several clients who have had cancer and lost their hair. Helping Lauren make this contribution was a project that was near and dear to her heart. It was an emotional moment to watch Cindy put Lauren's hair in a ponytail and cut off the required 8 inches. Other stylists from the Hair District came to watch and offer praise and encouragement to both Lauren and Cindy.
















A few weeks after mailing the ponytail to Pantene we received a really lovely acknowledgement--here is a copy of the letter that they sent to Lauren.

Think about joining in and contibuting to the Pantene Million Inch Chain.

Denim and Diamonds

The Hope Chest of St. Paul is hosting their 6th annual Denim and Diamonds Gala event on October 2nd, in support of breast cancer research.

Chemossentials will be donating a bag containing specially selected products for their silent auction event.

Hope to see you there!

For more information please visit: http://www.hopechest.us/currentEvents/DD2008WebPage.htm

- Maureen and Jessica

Relay for Life Burnsville

Relay for Life Burnsville, August 1st and 2nd 2008.

Burnsville's Relay for Life was the first event of this type that I've attended. It was a modest event--maybe only 200 people. That was a shame because the quality of the speakers was excellent. Burnsville's mayor, Elizabeth Kautz along with State Representative Will Morgan and U of M cancer researcher Dr. Rober Secik covered topics that were thought provoking, inspiring and funny. Jill Holly, singer, song writer, performer and breast cancer survivor introduced the speakers and set a wonderful tone for the evening. The original poem that she read to start off the evening was perfect. I hope that she publishes it soon so that it can appear in blogs like mine.

Each speaker encouraged participants to have fun as they completed the laps throughout the night. There was food, music and an auction going on so there were plenty of opportunities for enjoying yourself. But there was also a nice balance of reality. Two parts of the evening reminded all of us of why we were there--the Survivors Lap and the lighting of the luminarias.
The Survivors' Lap was a powerful way to show that together we can fund the brilliant minds that will find a cure for breast cancer. It showed us that there is always reason to hope. Watching each person make that lap and knowing that in their not too distant past they were undergoing cancer treatments was sobering to me. I thought about how much each one of those lives had changed as a result of their cancer diagnosis and how happy and triumphant they looked walking together that night.

Lighting the luminarias that lined the track was a beautiful way of remembering and honoring the people who have died--they are why we are so determined to find a cure.
Looking at the bags decorated in a variety of ways, all with the name of someone sorely missed was a sweet and very sad experience.

I wish that more people from the Burnsville community had been there--unfortunately until there is a cure--there's always next year.

Just listen

It's devastating to hear that someone you care for has cancer.

Telling your family and friends that you have cancer has to be excruciating.

In October, a dear friend, someone I have known for over 30 years, sent an email telling me that she had just been diagnosed with cancer. The email went to three of us, women who had been dining together monthly for the past 20 years. We were all caught by surprise. Within minutes of receiving the email the three of us were on the phone talking and crying with each other.

Emails are often considered impersonal and imperfect methods of communication. In many cases this is true, but for us receiving this dreadful news via email was a gift. We had time to let the news sink in. It was alright to focus on ourselves first. And we need to do that. We could cry, be angry, engage in denial and swear a blue streak--all in the privacy of our own homes. We could do all of these things without pulling our friend into our despair. I think this is what the fight attendant is talking about when she or he says, "In the event of an emergency, oxygen masks will drop down. Secure your own mask before assisting others." The reasoning behind this is sound; you really aren't in a strong position to help any one else until you take care of yourself.

Our friend allowed us to take care of ourselves. She knew that we would be shattered by her diagnosis. Her email covered all the points we needed to know. The information was right there in black and white for us to read, review, print out and share. She told us about the treatment plans that were available to her and what wasn't and why. She talked about the physician she was working with and even attached a newspaper article about the doctor and her unique practice. She provide the facts, told us how she was handling the situation, gave us an idea of what we could do to help and let us know how important we were to her.

The four of us were scheduled to meet for dinner a few days after we received the email. We decided that we needed to take dinner to her house--none of us could imagine going to a restaurant.

It turned out to be a good evening. The credit, of course, goes to our friend. The way she delivered the news of her diagnosis set a tone that we followed. At dinner that night we were still profoundly sad and deeply worried, but I like to think that we were able to focus on her needs.

It is difficult and painful to hear that someone you love has cancer--but in order to be able to comfort and help, you have to listen to whatever it is that they want to say. All that you need to do at that moment is listen. Let them talk. Don't be afraid of silence. You don't have to provide stories of relatives who faced the same thing, you don't have to list doctors or clinics and you don't have to know every detail of their diagnosis. Just be there.