Archive | July 2012

Breast Cancer Is Not Politically Correct

When the international SCAR Project exhibition premieres in Washington, DC this October, kicking off Breast Cancer Awareness Month 2012 from our Nation’s Capitol, the timing couldn’t be more perfect if it tried.

Besides pulling the proverbial pink carpet out from under October, the DC exhibition is also smack dab in the heat of election season.

“In the end, by bringing The SCAR Project to our city, we hope to make a strong statement about breast cancer by showing our country what it really looks like,” said Donna Guinn Kaufman, breast cancer survivor, former vice-president of the Tigerlily Foundation (supports young women before, during and after BC) and founder of the Kill the Cancer Beast Foundation (empowering people with cancer to fight), the organization spearheading production of The SCAR Project DC Exhibition. “We hope that The SCAR Project will change the way that people look at this disease, seeing it for what it is, terrifying, disfiguring and deadly, and as such, take real action to end it.”

Last month Kaufman and her planning committee of mostly survivors and previvors kicked things into high gear toward that end at their SCAR Project DC Exhibition Kickoff Fundraiser which was held at The Dunes art gallery. (Thank you for your gracious hosting of the event, Deidree Bennett, Fine Arts Director at The Dunes.)

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(Thank you to all the photographers who covered the event: Kipp Burgoyne, Marcus Bennett, Diane Crawford, Joey Darley, and Mayrev Mary Goren for all your lovely photos. And a special thank you goes out to Kristen Berset, WUSA9 sports anchor and reporter for her graceful emceeing of the event. Also to WUSA9 weekday morning anchor Andrea Roane for her gracious support of The SCAR Project DC Exhibition.)

If I were writing notes on cocktail napkins during the SCAR DC kickoff fundraiser, here’s a few of the highlights I’d have scribbled down:

Breast cancer is a political issue – SCAR DC Producer Donna Guinn Kaufman

Breast cancer is not prejudiced – SCAR girl Heather Salazar (caucasian) adopted her friend’s daughter after her friend (African-American) passed away from breast cancer. Then Heather was also diagnosed with breast cancer.

Breast cancer does not wait until you are “old enough to get breast cancer” – SCAR girl Eliza Hewitt who was diagnosed last year at age 22.

Breast cancer does not care if you are in a wheelchair because you already have Cerebral Palsy. – SCAR girl Sara Boghdan.

Breast cancer is not very patriotic. – SCAR girl Marathon Barbie the Marine who was diagnosed while serving our country in Afghanistan.

Breast cancer does not play fair. -SCAR girl Darcie who shared recent news of her breast cancer’s progression. (Cheers to your health, love, and godspeed beautiful Darcie, as you strive for stable disease once more.)

Breast cancer may SCAR but it does not define those who’ve stared down its ugly face and face their own absolute realities of surviving cancer. And yet, get a bunch of these crazy ass kicking cancer chicks in a room together sharing their SCARs and all I can say is cancer better watch out. One of these chicks is a marine and the rest of the women in the room have her back.

With that said, here’s the drill for the SCAR Project DC Exhibition:

Monday, October 1, the first day of National Breast Cancer Awareness Month, Kaufman is organizing a “Young Women Surviving Breast Cancer Day on Capitol Hill.” Kaufman is arranging meetings for any young women who can make the event to meet with their Senators and Representatives while young women in SCAR DC  t-shirts deliver invites for The SCAR Project DC Exhibition to members of Congress and and their staff on Capitol Hill.

Monday evening, The SCAR Project DC will host a VIP Reception/Press Conference by invitation only from 6:30 to 8 p.m. to kickoff the exciting week of DC Exhibition events and introduce The SCAR Project to the nation’s Capitol.

The DC Exhibition will open to the public the same day Monday, October 1 and will run until Sunday, October 7. General admission hours will be from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. (except for during ticketed gallery tours with the photographer, Monday evening VIP Reception/Press Conference and Thursday evening’s Black & White Opening Night Gala). The price of general admission is FREE.

There will be daily gallery tours with SCAR Project Photographer David Jay, and when possible, various SCAR girls will be available for Q&A. Stay tuned for a schedule of gallery tours TBA.

A Black & White Opening Night Gala will be held on Thursday, October 4. Tickets must be purchased in advance on the Eventbrite link below. A special discounted price is offered for a pair of tickets purchased before September 1. Also a special “Buy a Ticket for a Survivor” at a discounted price is offered so no survivor who wants to go to the gala is left behind.

On Friday, October 5 after the gallery closes for the day there will be a special ticketed After Hours Party with the SCAR crowd.

On Saturday, October 6 Emmy Award-winning filmmaker Patricia Zagarella will be on hand for a special screening of her EMMY Award-winning SCAR Project documentary, Baring It All. Zagarella, David Jay, and a few of the SCAR girls will be available for a Q&A session afterward.

Tickets for all events are now LIVE  on Eventbrite-Click HERE.

For more info and/or to keep posted on The SCAR Project DC exhibition join The SCAR DC Facebook Group. Contact SCAR DC Producer Donna Guinn Kaufman at dgkaufman@killthecancerbeast.com or 703.489.2727.

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Anomaly Yours, Eliza

[I met today’s guest blogger at her SCAR photo shoot in DC this past spring when the cherry blossoms were all abloom and decking out DC for its annual festival. How. Very. Apropos. Methought as I watched this beautiful, courageous, WAY TOO FREAKING YOUNG woman bare her S.C.A.R.s for the camera. At first glance, Eliza’s bright blue-eyes distracted me from the fresh red “angry scars”—as she calls them. Her absolute reality of surviving cancer is as different from mine as my scars are from hers. Mine have faded a bit, as I’m a wee bit (ok, OK… she’s exactly HALF my age but TWICE me in wisdom and stature) older than my younger survivor sister. Mine look more like Japanese symbols for WTF? and are therefore not nearly as angry—though I definitely see red when I see hers. I’ve read before that “the fragility of the cherry blossom is the fragility of human existence.” This was just poetry before I met Eliza. She is currently the youngest of the SCAR girls. Eliza just finished grad school in May and turned 23 in June. Oh, and is planning a wedding. While fighting cancer in her spare time, after being diagnosed earlier this year at twenty-freaking-two. She calls herself an anomaly. I just call her awesome. As I’ve gotten to know Eliza I’ve come to see that beneath that beautiful pale skin is fierce hope unfading, which the sunlight dancing upon it only highlights.]

Guest Post by Eliza Hewitt

 

Eliza and Thomas at graduation… and they’re off… planning a wedding for sometime next year… once she’s finished her Ph-freaking-d in chemo and radiation.

First of all, I should probably state that I’m only 23, a fact that I hope will shock anyone who feels that they are too young for breast cancer. Before my diagnosis, I was your average grad student working four or five jobs to avoid going further into student loan debt and working out the plans for the wedding of my dreams.

The discovery of my cancer has a tragically humorous story behind it. July of 2011, I decided I was fed up with my breasts. They hadn’t grown since middle school so I resolved I would subject them to a breast augmentation surgery. With a coupon for a free consultation in hand, I dragged my fiancé to the plastic surgeon’s office. I remember seeing a placard addressing the office’s policy on insurance covering the surgery if it was for reconstruction. So, as I’m sitting there waiting to meet with the doctor about a boob job, I remark to my fiancé, “Man, wouldn’t it would be great if I got breast cancer because then I wouldn’t have to raise the money for this boob job?” BOOM. There. There’s the awful punchline. I was a baby then and had no idea that the idea I said in jest was really a terribly callous joke that would come back full swing five months later.

Sitting on the exam table, the doctor found a pin prick of a lump on my right breast. He raised his eyebrows and asked if I knew about this. A part of me was embarrassed that my body could have something that could prevent surgery, especially since my regular doctor had not found anything during my annual visit two months prior. So I lied. “Of course, I know what that lump is,” I said. He told me to get it checked before the surgery plans could progress. I said that I would but already my mind was thinking that I would have to get back to work. Besides, I was 22. The world was at my feet and it was probably some dinky little cyst that would fade back into my body eventually.

So I sat on my knowledge of the lump for five months.

I filled my schedule with work and classes to avoid having to think about what the lump could be. In December of 2011, I had an unrelated surgery on my tailbone and a few days later, I started finding blood in my bra. Then, my skin felt hot and I noticed that the lump felt bigger. Oh no. Now, I’m going to have to call my doctor and admit the truth and growing evidence in my boob case.

Five months. It didn’t seem like a big deal.

In the end I couldn’t face telling my doctor’s office that I had avoided getting my lump checked out and now my boob was being weird, so I turned into a five year old and asked my mother to call. As she was describing my symptoms, it began to sink in how idiotic it was to think if I avoided something that it would go away. I call it the Ostrich Solution to life’s problems.

Five months. Is. A big. Deal.

The urgency in planning an ultrasound and then an ultrasound guided biopsy on the same day told a story that sent chills up my spine. When the technician slid her magic wand over my right breast, I thought someone had dropped a river pebble in my screen. There was a big black blob smack dab in the middle of my screen and I knew then that it was cancer. It had to be because nothing else can look as sinister. A week later, we got the official news. At 22 years old with classes to pass and weddings to plan, I had breast cancer. It was triple positive, meaning that it loved estrogen and progesterone and for dessert, it was partial to HER 2.

A week after my diagnosis, I had a bilateral mastectomy. I was my breast surgeon’s youngest patient. The night before my surgery, I wanted to see mastectomy scars. If I was going to have to wear the scars for the rest of my life, I wanted to know what I would see in the mirror. What I found was The SCAR Project. With each picture, I found stoic, resolved women who dared me to think them weak or pitiful because of their scars. These women were above their diagnosis and I took heart seeing their strength, even as my soul cried for all the beauty affected by breast cancer. It helped me through the night,  the surgery, and the breast surgeon’s finding: because of lymph node involvement, I was upgraded to Stage 2B.

A few months later, I fell into a deep recess of my former life and couldn’t bear looking at myself without the mirror being entirely fogged up. I emailed David Jay, never daring to hope that he would respond back. I had just gotten involved with the movement to bring the SCAR Project to DC and felt that my contribution would be in the background. I was satisfied knowing that I would help in this way. But David did email me back and the world opened to me again. He asked if I wanted to be photographed. I cried when I thought that anyone would want to take a picture of my scars that I despised even if they meant I was surviving. Here, my poor body was doing all it could to surmount the effects of chemotherapy and I could only see them for what wasn’t there.

When I met David in DC, I could barely breathe from the expectation that he would change his mind because as a 22 year old, I felt I should have had a youthful, unabashed spirit that wasn’t facing a life threatening disease. Had I never been diagnosed, I might have felt like a model off to a photo shoot.

David told me my scars were beautiful. At first, I rejected this thought thinking maybe he couldn’t see how harsh they looked in the light. But as he took picture after picture, I started to realize that my scars were nothing to be ashamed of. Yes, they made me different from other women my age, but they also made me more resolute and strong like all the women who had photographed before me and given me strength the night before my surgery. It is still hard to look at myself sometimes. I would be lying if I said the opposite. But through my picture and my involvement with the DC exhibit, I have made peace with myself and my scars. Because our scars are there to remind us of the times in our lives that are important to remember and they paint a story of not just survival, but living.

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Follow Eliza’s Adventures With Cancer aka her blog HERE.

Check out the story the NV Daily did on Eliza HERE.