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.

Breast Cancer Surgeons Should Limit Bias in Patient Dialogues

As I celebrate the third anniversary of my reconstruction and, on some levels, my resurrection, I am struck by how little advancement has been made in terms of educating women about their full range of surgical options to address breast cancer. 

As I mentioned in my earlier posts, I often find myself in a counseling role, supporting women newly diagnosed with breast cancer.  One of the most difficult decisions for these women to make relates to breast surgery.  Lumpectomy or Mastectomy? Reconstruction or Not?

Aside from the obvious imperative to remove the insidious cancer cells from the body, there's just so much to consider.  The considerations are extremely unique and personal to each and every individual woman.  Not only do these early decisions effect a woman physically and in terms of recurrence risk, but may impact her psychological and emotional well-being going forward.  These "quality of life" consideration MUST be given weighted consideration by both the patient and her team of physicians.

With the trend towards minimally invasive surgery and breast conserving lumpectomy, those that may benefit from breast removal (mastectomy) and aesthetic breast reconstruction are often made to feel over-reactive or overly conservative in their desire to explore the choice of mastectomy for early stage breast cancer.  I am not advocating for mastectomy.  Trust me, there are many times when I wish I could re-wind back to the days of having real breasts and the associated sexual benefits.  I am advocating, however, that all women facing breast cancer should be presented with their full range of possible surgical options before commencing their treatment plans. 

What many women do not know, for instance, is that some electing mastectomy over lumpectomy may be able to avert radiation therapy, which carries a risk of degrading tissue.  Also for consideration is the fact that lumpectomy can mar the breast aesthetic with its resulting scarring and divets.  It's not an easy or automatic decision.  Women should be shown the possible outcomes of plastic surgery breast reconstruction so that they can envision the end results of their cancer removal decisions.  Additionally, they need to be made aware of nipple sparing mastectomy and its benefit for some (see attached article).

I expect that as chemotherapy drugs continue to improve, and radiation treatment more pinpointed, fewer women with early stage breast cancer will truly gain recurrence risk reduction benefits by having radical breast removal surgery.  However, in the interim, women that want to insure or gain psychological/emotional faith in their survival after breast cancer, and those for whom aesthetic is emotionally important,  mastectomy with reconstruction should be offered, one of many options to fully consider at the very beginning of the breast cancer journey towards overall wellness.

Three happy years later, I feel and look great!

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.

The Importance of Breast Reconstruction After Mastectomies

My name is Donna Bramante InDelicato. I am a mother, a wife, a daughter and friend, a communications professional. I hail from the small town of Windham, New Hampshire. I am compelled to share my story of hope. What I have to share is big. It’s about women’s welfare.

Gentlemen and ladies…when I tell you I am thrilled to be here…. I mean that quite literally. You see, I am two-time breast cancer survivor.


I am ONE woman.. in a sea of MILLIONS.

THIS VERY DAY, 3780 women all over the world will hear the dreaded words, “You have breast cancer.” That’s about 25,000 EVERY SINGLE WEEK!!!! For many of you reading this, breast cancer is, or will be, personal.

My story is one of MILLIONS.. a narrative of epic battles and incremental steps forward, a roundabout journey from which I am finally home. Two winters ago, I closed what I hope will be the final chapter of my breast cancer story. My cancer has been in remission for seven years, and all that cancer took away from me has been restored and more.

Nine years ago, at just 34 years old, a diagnosis of cancer was the last thing I ever expected. Not a single person in my extended European (Italian-Polish-Danish) family had ever had cancer. My cancer adventure began in the office of my gynecologist, where a clinical exam confirmed a palpable breast lump. I was granted passage to a breast surgeon’s office, where ultrasound and a biopsy led to my diagnosis: early stage breast cancer. Shared tears, a stiff brandy, several sleepless nights, and a partial mastectomy later, my family and I believed our breast cancer episode was done (whew!). But, that was not to be…..

Four years later, while breastfeeding my darling daughter, I felt a lump. An eternal optimist, I brushed this off, thinking it was due to lactation. What I assumed was “nothing” turned out to be a serious malignacy – invasive, triple negative breast cancer, infiltrating out of my breast to several lymph nodes. This diagnosis was tough on me, but even tougher on all the people that love me, who helplessly stood by, masking their fears.

Life can change pretty quickly, I learned. I was swept up in a rip tide of activity threatening to pull me under. The first order of business was to get the cancerous cells out of my body with the removal of both my breasts. In a matter of weeks I was reduced from a vibrant, active entrepreneur and busy mother of two to a bald and sickly “two-dimensional woman-boy”. I needed an arsenal of treatments to survive, and was subsequently infused with chemotherapy and zapped with radiation. I lost my long hair, and felt totally diminished.

“This difficult time will pass”, my beloved oncologist said, and indeed it did.

But the consequence that remained with me, and pervasively affected my life, was the amputation of my breasts - a deformity I lived with for 4 ½ prime years of my life.

Although breast cancer caused a torrent of challenges for me and my family, I never, ever, allowed it to drown me. I thanked heaven for so many valuable lifesavers – my family and friends, wonderful nurses, and a team of terrific doctors. My crazy sense of humor helped me fight my way to the surface when cancer dragged me down. Oh, yes. I was the crazy chemo patient spicing up the infusion room with silly costumes ! Imagine a witch, a cowgirl, and a “pink punk rocker” tethered to an i.v.. At times, “coping” involved intentionally flipping my wig for a reaction. Once, I faked a call from the Olympic Bobsledding Team soliciting my flat, aerodynamic body. Actually, I did notice some improvement to my golf swing and my archery without womanly “impediments”!! My violin, however, had no place to rest. My jokes about being breastless got me and my family through some pretty dark days. Every time my loved ones looked at me, however, they were, on an emotional level, reminded of my serious illness.

I tried wearing prosthetics, but found them to be uncomfortable and silly. They made me feel like a guy in drag. One UFO incident in the swimming pool (unidentified floating object) was enough for me to put my foamy fake friends away in a drawer forever. I returned to my fitted clothing, and got used to the sideways glances from strangers. I imagined them thinking, “I’ve seen FLAT, but that woman is CONCAVE!” Others assumed I was anorexic; my lack of breasts made me appear super thin. With no breast fold to hold bathing suit tops from riding up, bikini beach volleyball was definitely crossed off my list. I resorted to pathetic little-girl styles.

Well, determination and humor only get you so far. For years, my chest concavity and surgical scars caused much deeper emotional ones. The truth is, this loss doesn’t just physically degrade a woman, it erodes her self-confidence, and takes away an innately primal aspect of the female identity. (Perhaps the men reading this will ponder what a comparable physical loss could mean in terms of one’s masculinity.)

Words cannot convey how much I missed my breasts – the way they made my clothing look, the role they played in my sexuality, the comfort they offered my young children as they cuddled on my lap. My reduced confidence impacted my professional productivity as well. My deformity, a visible symbol of my cancer, diminished my family’s faith in my long-term wellness. The sympathy it elicited from others affected my social life and shaded my friendships. What I saw in the mirror clouded the quality of my life, and prevented me from mentally moving BEYOND my cancer. After a while, I just stopped looking in the mirror, stopped wearing stylish clothes made for normal women’s bodies, and ceased enjoying my sexuality. Subconsciously, I became rather depressed.

Several times over those breast-less years, I visited plastic surgeons desperately seeking the possibility of breast reconstruction. Each time I was told that restoration was not possible – the mastectomy tissue removal had been extremely aggressive, life-saving radiation treatments had badly damaged the tissue remaining, and I was thin. I gave up hope that I would ever be whole again. My wish was modest – just a normal “bump” would do. The idea of “transferring” tissue and muscle from other parts of my precious body, even if this were possible for me, was quite unappealing.

OK. Enough with the pity! Now comes the good part of my story!! Now I get to tell you how the sun returned in my sky and the color back in my life! Thanks to LifeCell Tissue Matrix and silicone implants I became whole again, and even greater than the sum of my parts. THIS is the happy ending, and new beginning, that ALL women facing cancer should have the right to choose.

How did I learn about this procedure? A chance meeting in my daughter’s ballet class waiting room opened the door to the beginning of the rest of my life. A fellow “ballet mom” gave me the business card of the brilliant and compassionate Dr. Karl Breuing, plastic surgeon. Fall of 2007, I decided to investigate breast restoration one last time, and am I glad I did! A few months later, I became the recipient of two incredibly restored breasts constructed with AlloDerm (acellular donor tissue matrix), my body’s own natural regenerative process, and cohesive gel implants! I learned that the use of this tissue supplement in my reconstruction helped provide adequate interior space, mechanical support, and a sub-dermal barrier enabling anatomic breast implants to be permanently positioned in place. I was able to emerge from a single breast reconstructive surgery entirely and permanently restored! When I woke up from surgery and looked down at familiar shapely mounds, rivers of joy trickled down my face. I wanted to leap out of bed, do my “BellaDonna” dance, and hug everyone in sight!

In retrospect, I never consciously acknowledged how the loss of my breasts affected my psychological wellness, and the energy my sadness drained from me, until I got that vitality back. I left my depression and anxiety in the operating room of Faulkner Hospital in Boston!. Adios! Thanks to LifeCell Tissue Matrix , I’ve truly and totally recovered - with a tremendous sense of hope, self confidence, and purpose. This reconstruction allowed me to move entirely past my breast cancer bout.

My girlfriends would tell you “Donna’s got her mojo back”! My little daughter proclaims, “Wow mom! You look like my Barbie dolls now!” and “You look just like all the other moms.” My 14-year-old son, the topic of “breasts” evoking, um, mixed emotions, tells me he’s “happy for me” and picks up on my improved mood. My children are happily thriving, my cancer to them is now a fading memory. My parents are just plain relieved.

How is my life after reconstruction? FANTASTIC! I can wear any style of clothing again! Even strapless! I can tell you (and my husband would agree) “It’s good to feel sexy again!” Breasts play an important role in intimate satisfaction for both partners. It’s all quite natural. To summarize, “I’m much happier now!”

My cancer taught me so much. I have re-organized my priorities, and utilize my communications skills now for the welfare of others. For better or worse, Life sometimes hands out sour lemons. I am busy now making and sharing lots of lemonade!!! Incidentally, the lemons image shown here is utilized by the UK’s “Lemonland” breast cancer support website, devoted to global breast cancer education. The caption reads “have you squeezed you lemons lately?”


Anyway, It’s not what happens to you in life that matters, it’s what YOU DO with it!! Cancer has given me the opportunity to take stock of my life and purpose, to live more deeply engaged. Each of us CAN make a difference. My involvement with the breast cancer community runs deep, so I’ve had the privilege of sharing lots of dialogue with thousands of others. Through various aspects of advocacy work I’ve touched, benefited and learned from a wonderful cohort, tens of thousands of breast cancer sisters. I have walked women through the process to recovery hand-in-hand, spoken at public forums, and allowed the news media to publicly share my story of hope. I have become inspired to great activism, leading “Team BellaDonna” in raising $250,000 for the international Avon Breast Cancer Foundation. I will not stop until I know that all women everywhere know about this type of reconstruction. It has been over 8 years since it was first pioneered; the time is long overdue for this information to become public knowledge.

What do I want women to know? LifeCell Tissue Matrix allows individual women and their care teams to address dynamic treatment considerations. It makes reconstruction predictable, adjustable, adaptable, and available for all women. Many women can now have breast reconstruction in a single procedure. It allows women to preserve the rest of their bodies. And, the cosmetic results are great!

All women deserve the chance to make smart and healthy choices, choices that appropriately balance wellness benefits with compromise. For me, it’s not just about improving lives like mine; it’s about potentially preventing deaths. We all have a responsibility, a stake in that. Sharing the possibilities of breast reconstruction affords so many women diagnosed with breast cancer, AND those at identified risk of developing the disease, the chance to make life preserving choices. Informed, empowered women make better wellness choices.

I’d like to convey the appreciation of my family, friends and millions of breast cancer sisters. The biomedical scientists and professionals making tissue repair products possible, and my reconstruction possible, are leading the way towards healthier futures for so many. The biologics frontier is just beginning to open up. Let us hope these fields continue to get the support they need to take medicine and wound care into the 21st century and beyond.

For more information on LifeCell Tissue Matrix and Breast Reconstruction visit: www.breastreconstructionmatters.com, The American Cancer Society, and The American Society of Plastic Surgeons.

Crayons and Tears: My Breast Cancer Diagnosis

I shall never forget the heavy and humorous circumstances surrounding my second, and hopefully final breast cancer diagnosis.

On a beutiful day in May of 2003, I drove with my precocious 1-year-old daughter to the office of Breast Surgeon Dr. Yvedt Matory at Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston. A few weeks prior, I had undergone an excisional breast biopsy of a suspicious mass. Despite having had early breast cancer removed from the same breast just 4 years prior, I approached this appointment with confidence. I'd had two other breast lumps biopsied in the two years prior, both of which had been benign (non-cancerous), and expected this news to be the same. So, when both my husband and mom offered to come with me to this spring 2003 appointment, at which I was to have the biopsy incision checked and receive pathology results, I incessantly declined their offers. "I'll be fine!" I very stubbornly insisted. I suppose, in hindsight, I had taken my optimism a bit too far.

The long drive into Boston for that appointment was lovely. I remember it well. My toddler daughter Victoria and I sang nursery rhymes along the ride. Having had very early breast cancer 4 years before and, therefore, being at elevated risk, I truly treasured and celebrated out loud the fleeting, rhyme-singing days of motherhood. Victoria was (and remains) innately musical/artistic. We arrived on time, but, as usual, were stuck in a crowded waiting room for over an hour. Still, my cherub sang on, much to the delight (for some, annoyance) of our fellow "waiters".

I (we) were finally called in to the exam room, with its sterile aroma, crinkly exam-room tissue, single magazine, and muffled calcaphony of bustle and voices. We were way past nap time now, my cheerful toddler growing restless in the confines of the blank blah-beige walls. Ahh..those blank walls. We were two minds with nothing to occupy us while waiting for the familiar chart retreival from the door bin, click of the door handle, and appearance of our beloved Dr. Matory. My toddler wriggled in my lap, bored of the magazine we looked at, and getting generally "antsy". I recalled the crayons and paper I had in my mom-bag-o-tricks. Thank you Crayola! My little Picasso got earnestly to work.

I have a way with people, tending to easily establish meaningful connections. Such was the case with Dr. Matory; we shared an interest in music, education, patient communications, and had children of similar ages. (Dr. Yvedt Matory has since sadly passed away, a young victim of skin cancer). Despite having a ridiculous overload of patients, as is the case for surgeons at most of Boston's teaching hospitals, I do believe that she had a particular love for me. In the years ensuing my first cancer, what I perceived as Dr. Matory's personal interest in my well-being inspired my faith and helped allay my cancer recurrence fears.

As Dr. Matory entered the door that fateful day, her demeanor was different than what I had ever before experienced. Strained emotion showed on her cocoa colored face, and a serious furrow appeared between her beautiful deep brown eyes. "Hello Donna," she said. Hmm. No gregarious smile? No quick interest in the progress of my adorable attention-craving baby girl? "She looks really tired," I recall thinking about Dr. Matory. In the years since I had been seeing her for cancer follow-up appointments, every 3-6 months, she had shared with me the difficulties of finding balance - being a top surgeon, and being a commited, involved mom. Tired. Yes, that's why the long face. She's tired. "We have some things to talk about," were her next words.

So, I pulled up a chair next to her, as we reviewed the biopsy results. Me with a polite smile on my face, legs crossed, sitting up straight, listening intently. What followed was a bit of a teacher-from-Charlie-Brown experience, with just random words bouncing around in the frozen parts of my brain. "We found more cancer....waaaa.waaaa.waaaa." "Invasive, aggressive.....waaa...waaaa" "Mastectomies...waaaaa..chemo...waaaa...radiation...waa,waa,waa,waaaaaaaa." And still, I smiled politely, nodded, cheerfully agreed to make the necessary appointments with the secretary for more surgery and medical consults, etc. "Wow, you are handling this very well!" Dr. Matory added. More polite smiles.

I was not truly able to process what I was hearing. By that point she may as well have been speaking to an alien going through programmed responses, but not really emoting. I was like "Data" from Star Trek. My intellegent, multi-dimensional neural network suffered complete gridlock. Only one brain path stayed open for processing; the one that deals with just basic functioning and survival. It was all so surreal.

And then something happened that I will never forget. We both turned around, Dr. Matory and I. Those boring walls? The ones that drive patients crazy with their blankness? Well, my 18-month-old Picasso had found a perfect canvas, and outlet for her boredom!! The walls now featured my daughter's first-ever "public showing" of her budding artisitc talent! God works in some very strange ways indeed. No more boring walls, a distraction for both physician and patient, a happy toddler, and a well-timed moment of comic relief shared by two working moms - all provided at once by my darling daughter in my moment of need. "Oh my!" I exclaimed with raised eyebrows. "Don't worry about it," said Dr. Matory as we smiled at eachother.

What happened next? I remember making some appointments, leaving the hospital, securing Victoria in her car seat (where she promptly fell asleep), and driving down Memorial Drive, along Boston's Charles River, bound for home. At some point, the neurons were released from their bondage, my brain turned back on, and....the dam of emotions broke. About mid-way down Memorial Drive, I started sobbing like I have never sobbed before. I realized the impact all this would have on my husband, 6-year-old son, mom and dad, brothers, and all those that love me, and dreaded sharing the news. I pulled over in a random Cambridge parking lot, unable to see beyond my tears. Looking back at my precious sleeping daughter snug in her carseat, and with her whole wonderful life ahead of her, I resolved to fight the ugly cancer monster again and win. I would be there to watch my son and daughter grow up and add their own unique "Crayola colors" to this wonderful world.

Seven years, lots of beautiful "artwork", and many great memories later, I'm thriving, happy, and blessed in so many ways.

Pink pot scrubbers and buckets-for-the-cure

Breast cancer is big business in America. No, I am not being cynical, jaded, overly critical. We all want "the cure" to be found. It's just that the ubiquitous bubble-gum-pink "ribbon" is so darn prevalent, so pervasive, there is no escaping it. It's in the supermarkets, throughout magazine ads, on apparel - a thick fog of "pink soup". As a breast cancer survivor, I find this both fascinating and appalling. As a marketing specialist, I find it interesting that corporate decision makers fail to realize the potentially deafening effect of pink ribbon noise.

I have a few problems with the pink ribbon conundrum. First, breast cancer is not the only disease that takes lives. It's hard not to respect famous grieving sisters raising billions for "the cure". I want to point out, however, that many people suffer and die from lung, colon, ovarian, and uterine cancers as well. In some ways, the pink-ness draws attention and resources away from these cancer types. Second, too many companies are too quick to "slap the ribbon on the container" with only a shallow understanding of the various breast cancer support organizations. These organizations vary widely in how they ACTUALLY benefit real people struggling with the disease, and in how the funds managed specifically benefit productive research. (My favorite is the Avon Foundation for Women/Avon Breast Cancer Crusade, which supports specific, tracked research, access to disease screening, AND real patient support.)

Lastly, and speaking on behalf of thousands like me, the visual assault of pink breast cancer ribbons has the potential to negatively impact quality of life - for survivors trying to move on, for those traumatized by the loss of a loved one, and thousands that justifiably live in fear of developing the disease.

So, what "inspired" me to share these thoughts today? Me, the breast cancer activist, fundraiser, counselor, and crusader? A friend recently gifted me with a pink "pot scrubber for the cure". A pot scrubber for the cure? The gift, a sweet gesture, was intended as proof by this individual that "See. I support you and the cause." Under other circumstances, a pot scrubber would not be deemed an appropriate "friendship" gift, would it? But, alas, it was..pink! Corporations use the same mentality as my dear friend. "See? We care! See the little ribbon on our product? It makes our company somehow worthy of your "friendship", somehow demonstratively "good."" Ugh.

Then, I saw the new Kentucky Fried Chicken ad, announcing the "buckets for the cure" program. What! No! Not the KFC bucket!!! Is there no end to the pinkness? Please, KFC. Don't just tell me you care. Tell me why! Tell me how you believe the money you'll donate per bucket purchased will really HELP, beyond adding to the coffers of an already ENORMOUS mega-charity. Put your creative team to work on that! I have to believe, with their combined salaries, that they are capable of more.

Lest I sound ungrateful for all the research that will hopefully spare my daughter and son from the suffering caused by breast cancer, I must add that breast cancer awareness, done right, really does save lives. The research for breast cancer cures will shed light on other diseases, as well. And, some charities make All the difference to individual patients and their families. I celebrate my survival every day, made possible in part by the pharmaceutical industry and improved chemo drugs. But, I know I am not alone in hoping for the pink bubble to deflate, please, just a bit.

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".