It’s day nine of the Pink Ribbon Review Breast Cancer Awareness Month Giveaway.

In honor of National Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I’m giving away a pink ribbon product every single day during the month of October.

Today’s giveaway: A copy of Cathy Bueti’s memoir, Breastless in the City.

Breastless in the City is a great read most simply because Cathy’s story is a fascinating one: She was widowed at age 25 and diagnosed with breast cancer when she was in her early thirties.

Here’s a snippet:

“The first thing I remember after surgery is feeling as if I’d been run over by a truck! I guess I am still alive, I thought. From my breasts down to my thighs, everything felt like a combination of a burning pain and numbness.”

The link above brings you to the book review I wrote when I first read the book, republished on Pink Ribbon Review last April. You can head directly to Cathy’s webpage to read more about her and her book. Plus, you can read her Survivor Story here.

Remember to follow the Pink Ribbon Review BCAM giveaway rules and leave an appropriate comment on this post before midnight EST.

Good luck!

(Images: Cathy Bueti)

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Pink Ribbon Review BCAM Giveaway: Day Nine

After all the entries are received, three women are chosen to represent the campaign in print, in store and online.

This year, Under Armour received over 200 entries from women in response to their call for undeniable survivors. They chose the three women they felt would best represent the campaign in print and in store — and selected 17 more women to share their stories online as undeniable survivors.

I’m honored to have been chosen as an undeniable survivor this year.

Here’s the link to the page of survivors who are a part of this campaign … can you find me in there? Will you read my story?

You should also know, for each item purchased from the Pretty in Pink collection throughout the promotion, $2.00 will be donated to breast cancer charities. And Under Armour is sponsoring many, many events that help support the cause and survivors every where.

Read some of the survivor stories … they make you want to get out there and DO SOMETHING, don’t they?

Post from: Blisstree

Under Armour Thinks I’m an Undeniable Survivor

But when her plastic surgeon recommended a skin graft surgery to build up new nipples, she decided to incorporate art into her own personal healing process.

For Meg, that meant getting nipples tattooed onto her body instead of the graft surgery, and — after months of searching for an artist willing to take on her challenge — she’s about to get the work done!

Check this out out:

The website is featuring 8 parts of a documentary on Meg. I’ve been in touch with both Meg and the folks at growingbolder.com (for months now actually) and will be bringing you a Q&A later this week or next.

Before I prepare that Q&A, I thought I’d ask you all … any questions for Meg?

Post from: Blisstree

Reconstructed Nipples Vs. Tattoo Artistry

Have you ever heard people tell you that you have everything within you that you need to heal yourself? Well, Angela Cambouris is a woman who believes it — she’s living proof. I’m honored to share her survivor story with you!

My story is rather long as it begins in 1989 when I knew that I had a lump that I did not address until 1990. I was never well endowed and you could actually see it. As I was always interested in vitamins and exercise and had never had any health issues, I assumed that it was simply a cyst and was really not worried about it.

Upon having my first mammogram, I was just 40 at the time, my radiologist told me that it was certainly a malignancy.(I doubt that it would be done like this today). My reaction was one of surprise rather than devastation – I just assumed that I would overcome it.

A biopsy confirmed that it was estrogen receptive and I would undergo surgery and radiation. Because the tumor was rather large, I was not sure until the operation was complete if it would be a lumpectomy or mastectomy. The drama really began as I discovered that the furniture store where I worked would be going out of business just as my radiation treatments were to begin and I would become self-employed.

I had started my own interior design business in 1986 and had worked part-time at the store. I was a single mother with a son who was 19 and I had to continue working. As I believe that everything happens for a reason, I acquired a wealthy client who never was aware that I was having the radiation while I completed his home.

I continued my regular visits to my surgeon after the lumpectomy and removal of the lympth nodes which were negative. When given the option, I decided against chemotherapy.

It was at the visit that would have me free and clear for 5 years, that it was discovered on a chest X-ray that I had a tumor the size of a walnut on my lung. Needless to say this time, I was not so certain that I would overcome it. I also had just learned that my mother had Alzheimer’s and as I was the only child, she would be needing me to care for her. The most difficult part was that my son was also an only child and he would be left without family.

The diagnosis was stage 4 breast cancer with removal of my lung as the first option. I have always been proactive and went to see the radiologist who had administered the radiation. He agreed with me that removing the lung was not the best choice as the cancer had already spread. The doctors were unsure what to make of my case as no lymph nodes had ever been positive. I might also add that no member of my extended family had ever had cancer of any kind.

My oncologist decided to start with Tamoxifen as my cancer was estrogen receptive. I began the prescription in February of 1995 with no real knowledge of what to expect so I went to the library and read.

The books cautioned that it might take a while to produce results. I knew that I needed to do more than wait for results. At the library, I also found “The Healing Force”, a film about the amazing Norman Cousins who was the first to use laughter to overcome a major disease. And finally a tape of visualization which I began practicing every day. I became obsessed with healing myself and took megadoses of vitamins and joined a Tai Chi class.

Well, all of this leads to a conclusion that you have already reached as this is 2008 and I am still here to write all of this. Within 1 month, I was in remission and my doctor was stunned. I am presently redecorating his reception room to make it more cheerful.

After the first few years, I stopped thinking about it coming back anymore. I have lost several friends to breast cancer. Ironically, the wonderful woman who taught the Tai Chi class was one of them. When I told her on the phone that she had everything she needed to heal herself, there was dead silence on the other side of the line. A month later she was gone. She had been my angel.

(Image: Angela Cambouris)

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Survivor Story: Angela Cambouris

Bring. It. On.

Because even though the noise level in my household will go through the roof much of the summertime, I welcome the cadence of my kids. I’m blessed to be around that I want to hear them celebrate. I’ll sing the songs with them (”no more homework, no more books, no more teachers dirty looks”).I’m likely to hand streamers from the sides of my minivan for heaven’s sake. I’m jazzed.

The last day of school is a rite of passage, a day that brings them from one grade level to the next; an instantaneous increase in their self-esteem. This afternoon at exactly 1:40 pm, I’ll have a fourth grader, not a third grader. I’ll have a second grader, not a first grader. (Thankfully my daughter will remain a preschooler for another year because three kids in grade school is just too much to ponder.)

The last day of school is a right of passage that serves as a poignant reminder for survivors that we need to let loose and celebrate the passing of time. From now on, life is all about milestones reached. This year, the last day of the school year feels no less important to me than the day my first son took his first steps, or the day my second son will lose his first tooth, or the day my daughter will spend the ehtire night in a twin bed (as opposed to creeping into mine during the wee hours). Milestones … like the night we celebrated my 40th birthday. Or the week next year when we celebrate for my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary.

Yes, today … I’ll celebrate my kids last day of school.

For the record, there will be summer camp days for all three of my kids. But only after and in between beach days, pool days, lazing around and watching TV days, hiking days, biking days … days with my babies. Precious, precious days.

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School’s Out for Summer: Pink Ribbon Raucous

If you haven’t already read these posts, check out:

Cathy Bueti’s survivor story

Cathy Bueti’s Survivor Q&A

A review of Cathy Bueti’s book Breastless in the City

Go Cathy! Yippee!

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Cathy Bueti … on You Tube!

What was the greatest lesson having breast cancer taught you?

I’ve learned to really pay attention: to my body, my stress level, my relationships, and my priorities. My inner voice is smarter than the rest of me!

What advice would you give to someone recently diagnosed, heading into treatment or moving on after?

Do whatever it is that you need to do to feel at peace with your decisions. However you get there (prayer, research, a second opinion, all of the above, none of the above … ), don’t waste energy second-guessing your decisions after the fact. You did your best.

Remember Jayne wrote about her pre-cancer poetry writing? Well, this poem of Jayne’s originally appeared in Byline and she’s sharing it with us here at The Pink Ribbon Review today. (I hope you get back into this particular love of yours, Jayne — maybe this will be the catalyst!)

On Winding a Poem

The poem leaps
to become the circle
of a serious child,
a yo-yo winder of seven
who has learned through practice

that the magic resides
not in the dazzling trick,
but in the winding:
a succession of concentric circles
that progresses toward smaller
and tighter,
until it is real and close
and can be held in a small palm.

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Survivor Q&A: Jayne Byrne

Her story is inspiring, to say the least. Grab your mug of coffee, read on and enjoy. This is Jayne’s story:

“I was diagnosed with Stage 1 invasive lobular breast cancer in March 2006. At the time, I was forty-one years old. I found a lump in my right breast while I was getting dressed. Even though I called my doctor right away, I wasn’t actually worried at first. I was young, healthy, and much too busy for breast cancer.

My children were in ninth grade, sixth grade, and preschool. We had recently moved to North Carolina. The kids were settled in their new schools, the boxes were unpacked, and we were looking forward to some calm after a whirlwind move. Does life ever stay calm for very long?

It took me fourteen months to complete my treatment and reconstruction. Many women have a shorter course of treatment, but I had some complications that prolonged the ordeal. I had a lumpectomy with a sentinel node biopsy right away. Then there were four rounds of chemotherapy. While I was getting through my chemotherapy treatments, I did a lot of research about my tumor’s pathology and my particular situation. I ended up scheduling a bilateral mastectomy. It was a difficult decision, but I felt at peace with it.

Right before my scheduled surgery date, I lost a lot of blood. It was a freak event that was only peripherally related to the cancer, but the timing was quite bad. It landed me in the hospital, and forced me to delay my mastectomy. Those three days in the hospital were the worst part of my whole ordeal. I was bald, scared, and weak. I kept pleading, “What about my surgery? Will I be able to have my surgery?” The answer turned out to be “No.” I had to delay it in order to give my blood counts time to recover. Because of additional scheduling complications, I then had to wait six more months to begin the reconstruction process. In between the mastectomy and the reconstruction, I had my ovaries removed. All in all, I had anesthesia seven times in fourteen months.

It was a difficult time in my life, but I tried to stay focused on making decisions and moving forward. Sometimes, I felt that the decision-making process was a burden just beyond my strength. I kept promising myself that I’d make the best decisions that I could at the time – and that I’d never look back. So far, I’ve been able to keep that promise.

My creativity has always been an important aspect of my life. As soon as I was diagnosed with cancer, I turned to writing to help me process the experience. I wrote in my journal, I started a blog, and I crafted some essays. One of my essays was chosen for Voices of Breast Cancer. There was one oddity, though. Prior to cancer, I was devoted to reading and writing poetry. Writing poetry can be so cathartic, and yet I have been solidly resistant to that muse for some time now. I’ve realized (stubbornly, perhaps) that I don’t want cancer to infiltrate my poetry. Maybe, just maybe, I am finally ready to return to poetry. Why? Because I think that I can now attempt a poem that has nothing to do with cancer.

Writing certainly isn’t easy — but it does fall within my comfort zone. Getting out of that comfort zone to work on other types of breast cancer projects has been incredibly rewarding. I danced in a friend’s movie, and I created fabric squares for the Pink Artist Doll. These days, I’m much more inclined to leave my comfort zones. Venturing beyond them makes me feel more alive.

I continue to evaluate my life and my priorities. I know what my dreams and ambitions are. My biggest challenge now is balancing my desire to live-in-the-moment with the reality that reaching my goals will require a long time and a lot of hard work. Am I spending my time wisely? Am I enjoying the journey? I often ask myself these two questions.

While I will never call my breast cancer diagnosis a blessing, I readily admit that some wonderful things have happened to me over the last two years. The breast cancer community is an amazing entity, and I’ve crossed paths with so many talented and fun people because of my cancer experience.

I have also crossed paths with people as a result of my new ‘after cancer life’ that I feel truly blessed to know. You, Jayne, are among those people.

Thank you for sharing your story with us all.

I love this line, by the way, “Getting out of that comfort zone to work on other types of breast cancer projects has been incredibly rewarding.” Has anyone else out there stepped out of their comfort zone with a really great project?

(Image: Jayne Byrne)

Post from: Blisstree

Breast Cancer Survivor Story: Jayne Byrne

What was the worst part of your experience with breast cancer?

The worst part of my cancer diagnosis was knowing that I might not be alive to see my children through safe passage into adulthood; they were just 9 and 14 when I was diagnosed. But on a more personal level, I had a difficult time with all the choices: lumpectomy, mastectomy, chemo, radiation. I wanted someone to tell me what to do, but no one could help me with that part; I had to listen to my heart. The end of treatment was also difficult. After six weeks of radiation, I was told, to go and live the rest of my life. I had almost forgotten how, but cancer gave me the courage to realize I could survive anything; even the end of treatment!

What was the greatest lesson having breast cancer taught you?

I think the song, “To Live Like you Were Dying,” by Tim McGraw just about sums it up. Facing my own mortality was a gift; it allowed me to see life as not one day promised, but one day as a gift. I no longer had the luxury of thinking I had infinite tomorrows; I only had this present moment. I still cringe when I hear the words, I’ll do that when I retire. I made a passionate to-do list of 27 things I wanted to do before I died and I’ve accomplished every single one (except parachute out of an airplane!). Cancer was a second chance at life!

Looking back over your experience … is there anything you would have done differently? Anything you’re particularly proud you did “right”?

In the beginning, right after treatment, I wondered if I could have done anything differently. I realized later — much later — that there are no wrong answers when it comes to cancer. I made the best possible choice for me. Because of a surgical error, I never knew the size of my tumor, but I was lymph node negative and estrogen receptor positive. Because of that, I chose to have an oophorectomy and take tamoxifen for five years. At the time, that was considered radical, to remove healthy ovaries in a 40-year-old woman. After the clinical trial was complete, it turns out that I made the right choice. I also changed surgeons and had my lumpectomy done by a breast cancer surgeon. Statistics reveal that women who have their surgery done by a “breast cancer surgeon,” have a 40 percent greater chance of survival. I learned the importance of being my own advocate and doing my own research. Since my background was in health information management, I had resources available to me that other women don’t have. However, I tell every woman to do her research, ask lots of questions, and if you don’t understand something, seek out someone who will explain it to you. When you’ve done all that you can do and made your decision, don’t second guess yourself, and never look back!

What was the best advice you received?

The best advice I received was from a nurse oncologist who said, “Cancer isn’t the end of life, but the beginning of a totally new life.” Before cancer and after cancer are totally separate lives, I never compare the two. In many ways cancer was a blessing; I learned to value what was important in my life. I know for sure I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing today had it not been for March 21, 1996. Cancer was a hard teacher, but the lessons I learned were invaluable: living in the present moment and pursuing my passions!

How did you adjust to the ‘after-cancer life’?

It’s been 12 years since my diagnosis and it’s true that it does get easier with time. The first five years were definitely the most difficult. In the beginning I saw cancer as a huge boulder;so large that I couldn’t see past it. Later it became like a rock; I could finally see the other side. And then it became like a pebble in my shoe; I knew it was there, but I didn’t want to stop to take it out. Now it’s more like grains of sand in my shoe: a constant presence, a friendly reminder of the once huge boulder that stood in my way. Cancer survivors begin their survivorship the day they hear the word ‘cancer.’ We never stop looking over our shoulder, but we learn that uncertainty is part of our reality and trying to find serenity within that uncertainty is the key to truly living.

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Survivor Q&A: Connie Pombo

Connie recently shared how her life changed drastically on March 21, 1996 when she heard those fateful words, ‘you have cancer.’

It is my pleasure to share this survivor story with you. Everyone? Meet Connie Pombo:

“What did I do wrong? Those were the first words out of my mouth when I received the phone call from my surgeon. He said the words no woman wants to hear, ‘You have breast cancer.’ It was March 21, 1996. I was 40 years old and we had just celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary.

The following weeks were a blur of tests, more biopsies, second opinions, finally surgery, treatment and radiation. I worked full-time in the medical field and would radiate on my lunch break. I would announce my departure by saying, ‘Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go, can’t be late to radiate!’ On the outside, I kept up an ‘it’s okay’ facade, but inside there was a gnawing sense of fear I couldn’t escape. Would I ever wake up and cancer wouldn’t be the first thing on my mind?

It has almost been ten years since I heard those life-changing words, but it took a diagnosis of breast cancer for me to realize what I was truly passionate about. Shortly after being diagnosed I wrote down 27 things I always wanted to do: travel, take a photography course, write a book, plant a rose garden, and number 27: parachute out of an airplane!

One of my passionate “to do’s” was realized in November 2005 with the release of my book, Trading Ashes for Roses: From Pain to Passion. It’s the book, I always wanted to have when I was going through treatment and recovery. I wanted to say, ‘Here read this book, this is what I’m feeling, and this is how you can help.’ At the end of each chapter is a list of helpful do’s and don’ts for the survivor, caregiver, family and friends. After having received several ’sympathy cards’ after being diagnosed, I included a section in the appendix on ‘What to Say and How to Say It!’

One of my ‘mentors in crisis’ was a nurse oncologist who said, ‘This isn’t the end of life — it’s just the beginning! Some women quit their jobs and start entirely new careers, they travel, go back to school — some even realize their passions! At the time, I was just hoping to remember how to breathe! But she was absolutely right. Cancer was the beginning of a totally new life!

Through the diagnosis of cancer, I discovered my passion. As part of my recovery process, I would take long walks and bring along my camera. I was shocked when I received the pictures back. I thought, did I really take those? Something happened — life was coming into sharper focus — I was seeing the world through a different lens. A photograph is a moment caught in time: that time, that place, that person will never exactly be the same again. And that’s what I wanted — more time! Time to enjoy the things of this life; time to see our boys through safe passage into adulthood; time to spend with family and friends, and I didn’t want to waste a moment of it!

I started giving my photo cards — ‘Cards by Connie’ — as gifts to those who had helped me through one of the most difficult times in my life. Shortly afterwards, I was asked to speak to civic groups, churches, and ministries about my story — ‘Living the Passionate Life,’ and how through my greatest pain I discovered my passion: photography!

Never having felt that public speaking was my forte — I was shocked when invitations were extended again and again to share my passionate story of survival. Soon afterwards, I founded Women’s Mentoring Ministries, to share with other women the joys of a mentoring relationship and to help organizations create mentoring programs. It was my way of giving back to those who had been so instrumental in my recovery.

Soon afterwards, I gave up my career in the medical profession to speak and write full-time and to share my passion with others. What I thought was the end of life, was merely just the beginning of a totally new life — one I never imagined! To be able to wake up each morning and to be passionate about what I’m doing is a gift — whether speaking, writing or taking pictures!

I am so thankful for the nurse oncologist who said, ‘Life will be good again!’ Do I think my reservoir of passionate “to-dos”; will ever be full? I certainly hope not — in fact, I’m depending on it!

Thank you, Connie, for showing us how life leads us down some interesting paths, unforeseeable paths, but paths that lead to greatness, even after a breast cancer diagnosis. And for teaching us to live passionately!

Tomorrow I’ll share some of the questions I had for Connie about life as a survivor. But today? Let me ask you this … do you live a passionate life? What are your passionate ‘to-dos’?

(Image: from Connie Pombo)

Post from: Blisstree

Breast Cancer Survivor Story: Connie Pombo