My name is Runi and I was diagnosed November 16, 2005 just a few weeks shy of my 29th birthday. I was repeatedly told that I was too young and too healthy to have breast cancer. Cancer is not prejudice to anyone regardless of age, race or socioeconomic. This is my story and I hope people learn a great deal from it. Feel free to contact me if you have questions or want to simply talk.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Post GRAPHIC IV
GRAPHIC IV was May 22, 2010. It's a week post GRAPHIC IV and I'm still rattled from it both emotionally and physically. It was the best and worst night. I may try to come back and write more but this article says a lot:
This was written by MP Mueller for The New York Times:
I was going to write about what happened to our agency the first time we really sat down and came up with a wish list of clients, but my head and heart keep going back to something that happened Saturday night in Austin.
That night about 400 people came together at the Bob Bullock Texas State History Museum for a rowdy fund-raiser, the Graphic IV Art Bra Fashion Show and Art Auction. The event, sponsored by the Pink Ribbon Cowgirls, a group of young breast cancer survivors, was not your typical fund-raiser.
Attendees were greeted at the door by a model who pointed at her bra and asked, “Want to take this home with you?” A steady stream of off-color jokes and puns, mostly about breasts, was unleashed. Art bras, some designed by local celebrities, were sold to raise money through live and silent auctions. Christy Pipkin, executive director of the Nobelity Project (which grew out of the movie “Nobelity,” which she co-produced with her husband), was there, rocking her new chemo pixie. Gail Chovan, an Austin fashion designer and “surthrivor,” showed off a bra that was made by Deborah Harry, the singer, and sported well-placed little black cowboy hats.
Supported by friends, family and doctors, the survivors shed their inhibitions as well as their shirts. Emboldened by their mission to raise money for the cause, the women strutted around with chests out, having come to terms (theirs) with the mammaries that had made an attempt on their lives. Men were given permission, even encouraged, to make eye contact — so long as they bid up the bras!
Together, the crowd remembered two young models who had died since the last Art Bra gathering. We raised a glass to Molly Ivins, the feisty Texas journalist who succumbed to breast cancer in 2009. Sarah Weddington, the lawyer who argued and won Roe v. Wade, and who also happens to be a survivor, occupied front row seats with her posse. Nearly 20 survivors strutted down a catwalk to pumping music, modeling decorated bras, vamping for the camera and shining from the reflected love of the crowd.
One of the women sashaying down the runway was the daughter of a woman I had chanced to meet earlier in the evening along with her twin sister. All three women stood tall and proud; all three have had breast cancer. When we’d met, Mom told me that her daughter was going to be a model and pointed her out in the crowd. All of 30, her bald head held high, she was fighting breast cancer for the second time in five years.
Now, a third of the way down the catwalk, she collapsed. People watched, unsure if it was part of the show or if she had tripped. It soon became obvious that this was not part of the script. Her mother rushed forward from her second-row seat, a doctor was called, and event organizers surrounded her. Two women held her feet high so blood would flow to her heart. People took turns doing chest compressions. The doctor ran in search of a defibrillator and we heard, “she’s coding!”
Someone finally found the dial, cutting the music and, mercifully, the spotlights. Someone else led the crowd in a spontaneous prayer. Those surrounding the woman implored her, beseeched her, willed her to breathe. Others stumbled out the door and into the night. Strangers embraced. The ambulance arrived and the young woman, pale and unconscious, was rushed away.
Bursting with bawdy reverie 20 minutes earlier, the museum was now in shock. The director of the Breast Cancer Resource Center took the stage. “This,” she said, “is what we do all the time — rally around and support those who the disease knocks down.” She said that the other models wanted the show to go on. And so it did. At the evening’s close, we were told the woman was stable and breathing on her own. More rivulets of black mascara.
We all have our ways of dealing with death and mortality. It’s been six years since I finished my chemo treatments. For the next two years, I lived with an urgency to look at every blue sky and to milk every sunset for the last rays of the day. I was a resource for a steady flow of newly diagnosed women and raised money for the cause.
My daughter, 9 at the time, and I scoured the neighborhood on bulky trash day, collecting discarded lawn mowers in alleys and tossing them into the back of my old pick-up. We took them home, painted them pink and distracted ourselves from our fears. With 12 pink mowers and another 12 pink grass clippers, the Cut Out Cancer Precision Lawn Mowing Drill Team marched in the Race for the Cure. My 72-year old mom wore majorette boots and marched holding our “drill team” banner for the entire race. Even my Dad, 78 and more accustomed to a red Toro, gamely pushed a pink mower that day.
I’ve learned we all have stuff we are dealing with, whether it be cancer, a sick child or parent, a lost chance at something we desired in our heart of hearts. As the years have passed since my diagnosis, I’ve told myself it’s not coming back, and I’ve transitioned from cancer survivor back to private citizen, from urgency back to complacency.
Surrounded Saturday night by women bravely dealing with this unwelcome visitor, that jolt came back — the reminder that life is indeed fragile and short. (How do we manage to forget?) Doing what you truly love each day is the difference between existing and living. Are you doing what you truly love? If not, how can you get there? Are you passionate about your work? Do you have a dream you own, a purpose? If not, take the time to reach into your soul and define one. Embrace it and strut down the runway of life with all you’ve got.
Let’s make a pact to cheer each other on.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Sammy
Bill Bastas is now working on his fourth The Smile Never Fades book which focuses on pets. This photo was taken May 17, 2010 at Pease Park. It was close to 100 degrees but Sammy was a champ. Look back at it, Sammy and I have come a long way since Bill's first book. Check out my hair!
I now owe Bill a story about Sammy. Here's my first draft:
Dogs are such loving creatures. They live for the moment and cherish life to the fullest with many tail wags. Their happy go lucky persona is very contagious. They are also very smart and in tune with those that they love. These are just a few of the reasons why I love dogs so much.
My current baby is my chocolate lab, Sammy. He’s in his senior years now and he continues to bring me great joy. Ironically Sammy and I both have had our fair shares of surgeries and health concerns. My private joke with him is whether or not he is trying to catch up with me on the numbers of surgeries I have had.
Sammy was my chemo dog. He helped me get through chemotherapy, especially on the days that I did not feel well. He laid with me when I was tired and gave me constant attention when I was home. People always talk about a chemo smell and I honestly believe Sammy knew I was going through treatment and needed extra TLC from him. There were many moments that I cried with him, used him as a pillow and simply existed with him. I was able to be vulnerable with him.
Big dogs are known from their fatty lumps and Sammy was no exception. I was almost done with chemo when I found a suspicious lump on him. It was suspicious to me because it felt like my lump. My lump ended up being a 1.2cm invasive tumor. His aspiration showed inconclusive results that made the vets push forth on surgery. Sammy had a lumpectomy and his scar was a long scar on his right side. Earlier that year I had a mastectomy with a long scar on my right breast. The vets found suspicious precancerous cells in Sammy but felt the lumpectomy did the trick. Phew! Great news for the both of us! The summer of 2006 was the summer that Sammy and I both walked around with our right scar. Many people told me that Sammy took some of my cancer to make my journey easier. I don’t know what to believe but I know that he is an amazing dog.
He was also diagnosed with laryngeal paralysis where his airway was compromised just a few years ago. I had to make a choice of whether or not to do a laryngeal tieback surgery for him. Without the surgery he would be limited to little activities and be limited to mainly the house. He has slowed down in his older years but he still enjoys his walks. Of course there are always chances of complications like with any surgery. He was an older dog and he would always have to be monitored for aspirated pneumonia. Since it boiled down to quality of life I chose surgery for him. Fortunately he recovered well from it and surprisingly the seizures he had all his life were better maintained.
He has given me so much joy that I can only hope that I was able to return half of that back to him. My eyes are tearing up as I write this because of all the loving moments and memories I have had with him.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Deodorant of Choice
It's hot in Austin. We're hovering at a heat index close to 100 degrees. I have never been known to sweat that often unless I'm doing cardiovascular activities or unless it's super hot and super humid.
The deodorant debate is out. Some studies are linking deodorant with aluminum to Alzheimer. It's also controversial whether or not it causes breast cancer. I'm still not 100% sure myself but I've been using the "natural" stuff for several years now.
The more I think about it, the more I'm uncertain whether antiperspirant is really a good idea. We hear how good exercising and saunas can be to "detox" ourselves. I know I feel great after a good sweaty workout. Isn't sweating a natural process to cool us down? If so, why are we trying to stop it?
I have to be honest that the switch to the natural kind was challenging, especially during the summer time. I sweat when it's hot. The natural kind is supposed to kill the odor but that's about it. I've used the crystal one too and it's the same thing. I am a little bit more used to it now but it is Austin.
I've used several brands. The crystals were clear cut. I did have an allergic reaction to the lavender scented one. It was either Jason's or Tom's Maine or both. I now stick to the crystals or the unscented ones. The picture above is the one I'm currently using. I'm still sweating but at least no one has run away from me holding their nose. :)
Do I recommend it? Yes. Are there strong hard facts to prove against using the regular kind? No. I do believe that we should consume products with short ingredients or whole ingredients if possible. Shouldn't we do the same with the products we put on us?
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
GRAPHIC IV May 22nd
I had a very difficult time with my bra this year. I'm just not that creative or talented. I decided to start with a beautiful bra. The bra was already pink with the black floral on it. With help from fellow Cowgirls, I worked hard on making this bra pretty. I named it "Pretty in Pink." Breast cancer survivors are thrown into a world of pink when they are first diagnosed. I remember how I received so many pink items from friends. Most of the items were adorable but some were not. This is pretty in pink and it's sexy and fun at the same time. I embellished it sequins, beads and I even hand did each fringe bead.
I'm excited for this event. We have a handful of new ladies modeling this year and everyone's journey is so different. I'm so proud of each of them. This event is for them and all the other young survivors. To me it's also a tribute to two fallen Cowgirls that we've lost. We lost a beautiful angel just a few months after last year's GRAPHIC and we just lost another angel last month. We love you and you will not be forgotten.