640,000 Steps towards Save Lives

It's time to launch my annual participation in the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer Boston (2012).  This event takes place in major cities throughout the U.S., and in an increasing number of international locations.  The Avon Walks involve striding 40 miles over two days, a feat that requires devoting one's feet to months of pre-event training.  Here in New Hampshire, this training commitment either means joining an indoor gym, or calling upon one's New England hardiness and winter wardrobe.   Given my limited budget and time, and hoping the fresh air will help counteract the "seasonal affective" hibernation tendencies we Northerners struggle against, I wait until late February to start training for my ninth annual Avon Walk endeavor.

While my walk counterparts in California quickly slip on a fashionable sweater for their Avon Walk training strolls, it takes me five minutes to put on my winter uniform - hat, coat, warm "ugly pants", wool socks, and gloves -  before hitting the frozen pavement.  It's warmer in Califormia and, well, alive.  My walks are accompanied by long measures of silence. Here in small town New Hampshire, no birds are singing, nor are neighbors out  and offering staccato "hellos", except mouthed through the glass of their heated vehicles. Please don't spray me with cold wet snow, I think while smiling as they drive by.  They don't see my smile anyway. My face is covered by my scarf.  In the southwest U.S., Avon crusaders train under green, leafy canopies while smelling lovely flowers. My only reminders of NH botanical life are occasional dried up leaves, crispy fragile vestiges of last summer's vibrancy.  I feel sort of like these leaves - dried out and drained of color from too many months spent indoors in my heated home.  Then, there is the matter of sneakers.  While California girls don light and airy cross trainers, all bright and cheerfully clean, I dare not break in my new annual walk sneakers, the aerated ones that will help my feet succeed for 40 miles.  Not yet.  Instead, I wrangle my feet into snowproof, windproof, dirtproof lugs.  Tres chic.  All this gear I must wear in the cold winter days. But, I also bring along my imagination, and my thoughts take me to southern California.  I imagine that I am walking with my breast cancer crusader comrades there, and feeling the warm sun on my face.

Starting about now, my pedometer becomes my annual friend.  I wear it as much as possible, measuring and increasing the steps it will take me to complete nearly 27 miles on day one of the 2-day Avon Walk Boston event in May.  The tick-tick of my pedometer gets me closer to motivating my winter-lazy body back to health again.  I start with a goal of 2500 steps a day - just over mile.  This is an easy goal.  A walk up and down my street, a choice to park far rather than near, to take the stairs rather than the elevator, and my pedometer reading surprises me at how quickly simple habit changes can add steps to my days.  Eventually, I will get up to 10,000 steps a day, about 5 miles, and I'll be ready once again to embark on my fulfilling Avon Walk journey.  Then, for two days in May, my solitude and the quiet of winter will be replaced by a roaring swell of humanity as we warmly walk side-by-side for a cure.

Most days I conduct my training solo. Sometimes I am joined by a friend, and recently by my teen son who has proudly joined the crusade. I never train with my dog, who finds it more interesting to stop and sniff every few yards while my creaking knees beg me to keep going.  When I am lucky enough to have winter walking companionship, the parallel strides and interesting banter make the miles fly, and I forget the cold and my running nose.  Our smoking breaths humor me, and remind me of puffing factories or steaming cups of tea.  By April, early buds, ethereal chirping, and willing companion walkers will make this training so much easier.  I remind myself in February and March that those days are just weeks away. Really.  Until then, in February and in March, I create a virtual symphony in my mind.  The hope-song melody in my heart is accompanied by the swish of arms swinging in my nylon jacket, while the rhythmic crunching of shoes on sanded roads keeps the beat.  .

Left, right, left, right....crunch,swish,crunch,swish...I am ready to commence the training, beaming inside as the earth under my feet and the cold in my face remind me over and over that I am alive, I have survived!

Left, right, crunch, swish, and I can ensure life for others....that's why I stride.... when I could be home and cozy.  It's my amazing gift to give back.

For those that want to support me, visit www.avonwalk.org and enter my name: Donna Bramante InDelicato.

Let Us be Something Every Minute: Growing Past Cancer

“Dear God” she prayed, “let me be something every minute of every hour of my life.  Let me be gay; let me be sad.  Let me be cold; let me be warm.  Let me be hungry…have too much to eat.  Let me be ragged or well dressed.  Let me be sincere- be deceitful.  Let me be truthful; let me be a liar.  Let me be honorable and let me sin.  Only let me be something every blessed minute.  And when I sleep, let me dream all the time so that not one little piece of living is every lost.” - from A Tree Grows in Booklyn by Betty Smith, 1943

Cancer is as much a disease of emotional struggle as it is physical. I read this book recently, and the excerpt really resonated with me, moving me to joyful tears. I re-read the paragraph over and over in the quiet of the night, the noisiness of the ballet studio, and aloud to each member of my family..  These words so reflect the internal bargaining that many go through when battling cancer.  "Please let me survive," we plead, "and I promise to appreciate every moment of every day,"  Then, when we are finally out from the dark tunnel of treatment, our faces once again in the sun, there is a deep and eternal appreciation of living, of feeling the seconds, the moments, and hopefully compiling them into years of grateful survival.  

Sometimes fears of recurrence pull cancer survivors to a panicked place, inciting desperation to validate one's alive-ness by living, even over-living.  I know this first hand.  For those that have been stricken with cancer and struggle in those moments of recurring fear, those that support loved ones that are dealing with cancer, and even those that have survived 50 years past cancer but still have occasional fear, I assure you that you are not alone.  These emotions are not all bad.  Cancer survival, and its associated gratefulness for life, lead many to explore a new hobby, take on a new challenge, love a little deeper, be more forgiving, loosen up.  Our perspective changes and we not only see the forest for the trees, but the trees for the leaves, and the life-giving air and sun. 

To live ones life with an authentic appreciation for living is, in a sense, like living it from death backwards.  Facing off our mortality makes us realize the gift that is time.  How wonderful to more fully value and feel watching our children sprout and branch out, opportunities to learn and lead, our ability to share and impart, and time to just breath..  To be "above ground" consciously experiencing and engaging in the full breadth of what it is to be part of humankind is to be truly alive.  To smell the ocean and earth, feel the biting cold, cry at our losses, celebrate our joys, laugh out loud, help others in need, and learn something new every day is like the unwrapping of gift after gift after gift.

Perfect or not... how blessed we are to be something every minute of every day.  The quote above says it all and more.  

Here's to the adventure called life, the medical and scientific communities that afford people like me the chance to live, and generous souls everywhere that support research and care.  May our combined philanthropic and humanitarian efforts afford more people struggling with cancer the chance to survive, and touch all the wonder that is "life".   

Tools and Tips and Fundraising Adventures

It’s mid-March in New England. For most, this means the anticipation of Spring, a much needed college break, the slow and deliberate shedding of winter sweaters, the tiny daffodil sprouts that give us Northerners cause to release the tensions of Winter. For me, Spring means all this and so much more. March means that breast cancer fundraising season is already in full bloom, and my beautiful bouquet of “Team BellaDonna” volunteers is right there blooming beside me.


Team BellaDonna, a loose conosortium of people directly or indirectly struck by breast cancer, began nearly a decade ago. Instigated by my mom’s emotional response to my first bout of breast cancer, Team BellaDonna is comprised of women and men that are inspired to exercise tangible efforts against the disease. This group, including up to 25 individuals over the years, has more heart than a herd of elephants, and a determination that has allowed us to collectively raise over $250,000 for the smartly and efficiently run Avon Breast Cancer Foundation, and its offshoot, the Avon/Love Army of Women. Young and “older”, moms and singles, businesswomen and students, members of the Team BellaDonna posse join the efforts for varying reasons. Some tag along for one cathartic term as an empowerment and renewal effort after battling breast cancer. Others, the core team of about eight, return to the group year after. We are survivors, supporters, sisters, sons, and perhaps superstars to those we empower through our numerous fundraising and awareness efforts. Turning emotion into effort, trial into tribute…that’s what this group is all about.

Over the years, Team BellaDonna has created and encountered many adventures. Among the humorous failures that were more investment that return – an “Open House” party at my home featuring the likes of Lia Sophia, Usborne Books, and Pampered Chef. What was I thinking when I opened up my home to the public? The concept was that people would move from room to room, purchasing items with a percent donated towards fundraising efforts.

Another questionable effort – the “cottage” handmade glass bead bracelet project. Beautifully designed bracelets made by women that were already overburdened with careers and kids, in a market flooded with Pandora®, Chamillia®, and other “trendy” “build a beaded bracelet” offerings. Yeah, that was destined to fizzle before it started.

The children’s concert palooza with a collaboration of four hugely popular interactive tot-set performers, garnered quite a bit for our cause, promoting breast health to hundreds of young moms to boot. Now that event was both fun and fruitful. We were roockin’ in the isles with toddlers at a packed auditorium! What pleasure to be a kid again, miming animals along with the pre-school set!

A greater success, and still with great potential, our Team BellaDonna “ArtWear” tee shirts, designed to symbolically represent hope BEYOND breast cancer, a core focus of my personal and professional efforts. With original signed art donated by a known artist, Ken Maryanski, this endeavor may yet be a winner. I just have to clone myself to find the time to roll this project out completely while still earning income through gainful employment. Still, the shirts do sell locally, and simultaneously raise hope.

Email, social media, direct mail, tables at supermarkets, motivational speaking, producing major public events, auctions, fashion shows – the fluid Team BellaDonna group, though they may very well raise eyebrows and sigh behind my back, has been with me from the time of my second breast cancer bout, literally marching towards breast cancer cures. Truth be told, we’ve had a lot of fun, met some amazing people, and learned great practical skills along the way! Oh, and then there’s the little 40 mile Avon Walk for Breast Cancer Boston walk in the park we reward our efforts with each May. But, that’s another host of stories.

Last week, whilst in the thick of planning our annual “Styles & SMILES” Charity Fashion Show and Auction (those of you that are professional event planners will realize this in itself represents a full-time job), we threw together an event called the “Pink Toolbelt Diva” party. Although not great as a fundraising event (the first time out rarely is), this event had the effect of raising more awareness and generating more empowerment than any of our prior fundraising endeavors. The Toolbelt Diva event allowed women to try Tomboy Tools®, sized for women and with pink accents, at fun hands-on stations “manned” by local Firefighters, Team BellaDonna husbands (bless my husband), and Home Depot store managers, who seemed to enjoy all the female attention. The event was a win-win-win, gathering women of all ages for the empowerment that comes with learning independent “tool use” skills, providing attendees the opportunity to contribute to the cause while getting practical skills and tools in return, providing a networking opportunity for area businesses related to homes and design, and reaping a percentage return towards Team BellaDonna fundraising efforts Through a concerted public relations campaign (did I mention my background includes a Masters in Communication?), the event garnered front page photos and articles in every area newspaper, both local and state news. The message: Women Can Do. The exposure and awareness for corporate Tomboy Tools (a women owned business that, at a corporate level, sponsors the Avon Breast Cancer Foundation), corporate Home Depot (traditionally perceived as a man’s playground), and the Avon Breast Cancer Foundation were a bonus benefitting these organizations. I do sometimes wish our corporate beneficiaries would find creative ways to reward our Team BellaDonna volunteers’ efforts towards promoting these businesses, but am also grateful for the opportunities these collaborations represent.

The “Pink Toolbelt Diva” event had little girls learning about power tools, grown women fixing faux cars, older women painting on practice walls, gardeners getting tips from Home Depot experts, and me finally learning what to do if my car tires fail. The three survivors on our team spoke with others, offering counsel, consoling those that exchanged their breast cancer stories, and modeling hope as they represented “thriving and purpose” after cancer.

For me, the event provided an opportunity, yet again and again, to model proactive humanitarianism and management skills for my young daughter, who, at 9, follows suit as a little leader of her own inventive and adorable “event management” efforts. Finally, I was able to let go of my need to “kick cancer’s #@$” by personally directing every fundraising project, passing the event managment reigns to two of our capable younger team members, who got a taste of what it is to pull disparate event pieces together, and the pleasure of watching the event become much more than the sum of its elements. In the thick of the event, I surveyed the room, all the action, emotion, conviction and shared purpose, and my eyes rimmed once again with inspired tears. Thus, like many other of our ongoing efforts to support those impacted by breast cancer and move the big bio-scientific –medical machine closer to the real breast cancer answers, we’ll call our first “Pink Toolbelt Diva” Party a good success.

Now, just weeks later, there are dozens of fashion show/auction tasks to tie up. We’ll need an entire skein of “pink ribbon” to knit the event together and pull it off, and a piece to tie the clock’s hands as we race to find the time to complete the event while juggling our lives. But, I know that Team BellaDonna is up to the task.

"Fields of Hope" ArtWear Aids Women Beyond Breast Cancer

Across the globe, over a MILLION women and men are diagnosed with breast cancer each year. But, what happens after the words "You have breast cancer" are heard? While earlier diagnosis, better understandings of breast cancer sub-types, and improved treatments are allowing more to survive the disease, many fail to truly thrive after breast cancer. Why?

I have spent the past several years trying to understand this, during which I have personally counseled dozens of women and men dealing with breast cancer, attended numerous breast cancer patient events, and ruminated on the topic, sometimes late into the night. For too many, most in fact, the fear, anxiety, and depression that follow a breast cancer diagnosis can dramatically reduce quality of life and negatively impact work and relationships. It is my belief that survivors, whether they are actually pre-vivors with genetic risk indicators, or whether they are survivors of advanced breast cancer, can suffer from a sort of "post-traumatic stress." In terms of living beyond breast cancer, this can be truly debilitating. Think about it. You've been diagnosed with a disease that threatens to a) take your life, and b) possibly recur after treatment ends. Most that are diagnosed are not naturally equipped with the coping skills necessary to minimize post-cancer anxiety to a point necessary to entirely "resume" their pre-cancer lives. I am one of the lucky ones. I have a terrific family support system. Activities like art and music, yoga, walking, friendship, and activism have enabled me to move past two bouts of breast cancer. The grey cloud of breast cancer recurrence anxiety very rarely blocks the sun from me now. (My breast reconstruction also helped me feel normal again.) Yoga sessions offered at my cancer clinic helped me turn the page after my treatments ended, and for that I am very grateful.

I know first hand that not all are so fortunate. This is where I want to really make a difference - helping others to "break out" of cancer's emotional/psychological hold, and live out the best lives they can. One giant aspect of recovery - the psychological, emotional, and social dynamic - is still somewhat of a "black hole" in cancer care. Yet, this aspect is absolutely vital to holistic recovery. Thanks to the Avon Breast Cancer Foundation, The Avon/Love Army of Women is beginning to facilitate measurable research studies on the topic of psycho-social wellness after breast cancer and its impact on post-cancer health. (see: www.armyofwomen.org) So many women I have had the honor to counsel report feeling depressed and scared after cancer, but are uncomfortable with traditional support group settings. Often, they truly want to do more to recover, but are so financially beaten by cancer tretament costs that signing up for a yoga class just isn't possible. (To this I can personnaly relate.) So, what to do?

I believe the answer lies in offering women opportunities for emotional and psychological recovery through shared activities, learning new skills/hobbies, a chance to talk with other survivors during creative workshops, yoga, "art therapy" sessions. In my opinion, this should be an integral part of treatment! The most progressive cancer clinics are beginning to offer emotional wellness programs as part of their wellness care. It just plain makes sense, even economically, Happier women are more productive women in every way. To survive breast cancer is great, but to THRIVE after breast cancer - AMAZING!!

To that end, my team and I have begun offering "Fields of Hope" ArtWear. "Fields of Hope" shirts are printed with earth-friendly inks on organic cotton, and the fine art images are all about empowering survivors. Funds from this project will sponsor opportunities for women to actively engage in their own psycho/social and emotional recovery BEYOND breast cancer, bringing together people from different "fields" (artists, wellness, yoga, counseling, etc.) that may offer therapeutic hope and recovery to breast cancer survivors. The fundraising ArtWear, designed and signed by acclaimed artist Ken Maryanski, is available at FRINGE Boutique in New Hampshire (also on FaceBook), and by order (email: bcfieldsofhope@gmail.com).

A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. There is much that can be done to help others step forward into optimal wellness after breast cancer.

One candle can light the dark

Two years ago, as I have previously described, I was "restored" to my pre-cancer self.  My breast reconstruction repaired the amputation that saved my life.    When I woke up from my reconstruction surgery and, in the prone position of my hospital bed, could not see my feet past my reconstructed (albeit swollen) breasts - I was elated!   Giddy!  I had entered Faulkner Hospital in Boston early that morning as a "two-dimensional woman-boy", and went home two days later a re-blossomed woman.

Upon my arrival home, the first thing I did was to ascend the stairs to my bedroom, reach into my closet, and slip into a strapless dress that I had not been able to wear. ( I shall describe this humorous umoment in a later blog.)   A few weeks later, the healing well under way and the pain subsiding, I began to fully and completely realize the lift that this corrective surgery provided to me and those I love.  The depression I was unaware I had suffered was gone.  As a result, I felt energized, full of new possibility, and more confident in my wellness.  The train was put back on the tracks, the world again my "oyster".

Wanting the same restorative opportunity for others, I began to contemplate the lack of information that had been available to me prior to my surgery.  As much as they were physical, the scars from my mastectomies were even more emotional.  I knew first hand how so many women like me suffered the emotional consequences of breast loss, and wanted to help every one achieve restoration.   I began researching, speaking with my doctors, phoning LifeCell (makers of AlloDerm used in my reconstruction), and surveying breast cancer groups.  A deeply involved activist and breast cancer fundraiser for the prior eight years, why had I NEVER heard about the AlloDerm option?  I made up my mind I would, I MUST, work to change that, to fill the information void.  Thank goodness for my supportive and patient family and friends.  This endeavor has compelled me for the past few years like a ninja on caffeine. Weird analogy, huh?

I learned that the AlloDerm*/implant reconstruction technique (*also referred to by some as supplemental tissue, donor tissue matrix, and acellular dermal matrix) had been conceived many years prior.  I became enraged that this procedural option was available all while those like me suffered.  I discovered that this surgery was virtually unknown outside closed plastic surgery communities.  To me, this was tantamount to a sin of ommission, a violation of women's rights!  Thousands of women, I realized, were making half-informed decisions regarding breast cancer treatment, surgery, and reconstruction.  A champion of others from the day I was born (both a blessing and a curse), I turned my anger into action, starting an impassioned crusade to raise awareness.  I mapped out a strategic communications plan targeted to reach entities I beleived could help spread the word - breast cancer communities, medical and social work groups that serve as health contact points for women, local and national media.........

The attached clip is one result.  Reporter Jennifer Vaughn, a true champion herself of the breast cancer cause, was equally upset that our interview was the first time she had heard of this option!   I knowingly sacrificed my privacy to make these communications opportunities happen.   There is no time now for regret.  My privacy seemed a small price to pay for a better fate for so many others.

What I learned, what my children experienced through my actions (one of life's most valuable lessons), and what I hope to inspire with this blog entry, is this phrase I entered in my high school yearbook way back when.....ONE PERSON CAN LIGHT A CANDLE IN THE DARK!!!  All it takes  -  a belief that truth prevails, a willingness to boldly act, and a passion to never give up.

The attached video is an example of how one person can instigate change, how information leads to empowerment, and how that informed empowerment can affect the lives of others.

Woman Seeks To Spread Message To Others

2 min 23 sec - Nov 18, 2009
for reconstruction, but her search to restore her body to what it once was has finally paid off. ... Donna Bramante Indelicato breast cancer AlloDerm ...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=SijIP5aTnFo

The Year of the Colorful Pants

The Year of the Colorful Pants.

I hereby designated 2010 "The Year of the Colorful Pants”.

I came by the above trio on a recent trip to a store named DELliAs, where my objective was to return a not-so-colorful Christmas gift from my husband, a “soft” and “fluffy” sweater that nearly swallowed me up. Not a shopper, I intended to accomplish the return in a matter of minutes, receive cash back, and put it to practical use. Call it an epiphany, foreshadowing, a sign from a higher power - I was actually seduced by a pile of colorful pants! Like a bee to honey. The "SALE" sign may as well have been flashing neon. In collusion, the fitting room mirror encouraged me along. A quickened heartbeat later, I exited the store as the proud owner of boldly colorful pants! It was the first week of January, and things were looking very bright.

Why on earth was I so emotionally charged by a few pairs of cotton pants? I found myself singing the whole car ride home! ("I can see clearly now, the rain has gone.....I can see all obstacles in my way................it's gonna be a bright, bright, bright, sunshiney day....)

I brought the pants home, tried them each on again, my husband serving as a very willing audience (smile). My son and daughter both looked surprised and nervous. What alien had taken their normally conservative mom and plunked down "Donna with the Amazing Technicolor Pants"? Had I made a mistake? Been intoxicated in the store by the overwhelming hue? No, no. The pants arrived in my life right on time. Life, I have learned, does put things in our path in very timely ways.

How wonderful, how metaphorical that these pants ended up in my closet, otherwise filled with tailored styles and safe, classic hues. The boldness, the infusion of color, felt like a celebration of joy for "living". These pants declare out loud what I am compelled to do - to inspire others affected by cancer to their best possible outcomes. On the days I wear them, I feel a little brighter. On the days that I wear them, sometimes consciously on days of self-doubt, I am reminded that change happens by engaging, doing, acting. "Go, girl, go," they say.

To understand how my life became color-deprived is to understand the psychological burden of breast cancer. You see, from the time I was diagnosed, a shadow hovered over me, a little dark cloud of anxiety that followed me like an unwanted friend.

For me, the bright spectrum of living did not return all at once, but in steps forward that helped me move entirely beyond a serious diagnosis to a state of normalcy. What helped me to move forward? First, the personal support of my oncology team, treating me and my family with compassion and individualized care. Then, participation in some social programs that got me thinking outside my “cancer” box. (Oncology social workers are truly unsung heroes in the universe of cancer care.) Yoga classes and a “Day of Beauty” offered at my cancer clinic, archery classes with my son, learning to play golf, playing my piano and violin - these activities helped my re-engage in "living", got me thinking forward again to a life full of possibilities. Breast cancer fundraising, advocacy and motivational speaking offered tremendous purpose to my days, delivered the rare gift of "meaning", and heralded my future.

Finally, breast reconstruction moved my post-cancer life a giant step forward, helping put the sun back high in my sky, and the color back in my rainbow.

The darkness, the draining of color from the lives of those affected by breast cancer is something I hope to address not only in this blog, but through actions and associations I hope will lead to a more holistic treatment of cancer patients. I feel compelled to help others like me move from grey back to colorful lives. Perhaps this starts with the donning of colorful pants! They certainly have inspired conversations, and dialogue is an important start.

I think I can, I think I can…life is again operating at full steam. The wheels stopped turning turning for awhile, but the engine has restarted. The schedule no longer controls me, I am the engineer. Cancer taught me that.

Yes, this is "The Year of the Colorful Pants".

MANGE VENTER MIG (Much Awaits Me)

Mange Venter Mig (Danish). Much Awaits Me. Self-confidence, possibility, faith, and hope – these unyielding elements have propelled me to achieve many things in my life about which I have been proud. Leadership of my high school class; first college degree in an extended second-generation American family; a distinguished graduate degree; a corporate career; the launch and successful management of a small business; civic leadership; elected public office; marriage; and the birth of two amazing children. All highlights in a forward life continuum. Striving, multi-tasking, and juggling were my lifestyle. Overachieving, I was driven by the belief that always there is a next step in life, more rewarding than the last. Ridiculous optimism? Perhaps. Innate determination? Most definitely. Foolish? Perhaps. Much awaited me, just around the next bend… and the next.

Practically from birth I was out to prove something – to the world, to anyone that doubted, and mostly to myself. I am woman. I can do it all. I can run a business full time with my beloved mom, while concurrently working in marketing for Alpha Software company, while maintaining a 4.0 GPA working full-time towards a Masters in Communications at Emerson College. Happy? I think. Tired? Extremely. Stopping to smell a single rose? Never. Much awaited me. I was a “mover”. My beautiful baby boy had captivated my heart, motherhood adding a new and amazing dimension to my complex and exciting life. What I did not realize then was that far too much, too many things that mattered, eluded my appreciation and understanding along the way. On I marched, projecting my future, laying out plans, acccelerating the spinning wheels in my personal “Habitrail”.

Then, cancer happened. It happened to me. It happened in the prime of my life, at just 34 years old. With a four-year-old marriage and an adorable three-year-old son, this was not supposed to happen to me. I was going forward, not staying still. Mange Venter Mig. This was not time for cancer. It was time for loving, learning, sowing, and growing. No, this was definitely not in the plan, this stopping to deal with cancer. I had no family history of cancer in my enormous, extended Italian family, nor in my extended Polish/Danish clan. I breastfed my son, I was not overweight, I did not smoke or drink. No time for this. I’m going places.

The diagnosis stunned me. It hurt my loved ones, and reflected their sorrow back to me tenfold. Relief came; the cancer was early stage. The first surgery was unsuccessful, leaving some cancer cells behind. The next surgery, weeks later, got all the cancer and left me with 1 2/3 breasts. (I shall share in a later post the humor and the challenges of having two thirds of a breast). My surgeon, God rest her beautiful soul, advised that since so much tissue had been removed I may not need radiation therapy. If cancer were to return to that breast (she noted I had about a 35% chance of recurrence over the first few years following the surgery), I would be unable to have radiation treatment to the same area later. So, the decision was made against radiation treatment. Would this have prevented my recurrence? I suppose I will never know.
Forward. Think forward. No looking back. Self-confidence returned and my crazy optimism. The faithful “Donna” engine was refueled, the determined little engine that propels me over the hills and valleys of my life.

The “cancer” chapter was over, or so we thought.