Marilyn Calfa
I was 48 when I had my mastectomy in September of 1992. The cancer was stage 2 and 3 and was in 21 out of 24 lymph nodes. After surgery I had six months of chemotherapy, followed by three months of radiation and ten years of Tamoxifen.
I have been fortunate to be problem free for 15 years, which is amazing but that is how cancer goes. One does not know what is in the cards. I just know I dealt with it and carried on my life with family and friends. Because of my family and friends I now have a large collection of giraffes that were given to me during my treatments. After all, you can use only so many nightgowns. This is why my chair has a giraffe on it. It has been my look-out for years and its face has been a peaceful focus.
Robert Cohen
I chose to be involved with the rare chair affair and the Wisconsin Breast Cancer Coalition to increase awareness of male breast cancer in the Milwaukee and Wisconsin communities.
As an active 38 year old, with no health issues, a wonderful family with three children, terrific job, and all and all and all . . . a great life, who would have questioned the uncomfortable area on my chest? But as the weeks passed into months and each time I was bumped, or the basketball hit the area, or I slept on my stomach, the pain increased. at first, I justified it as an ingrown hair, and then a fatty deposit, then a sprained pectoral muscle, at no time, would I have considered this discomfort to be breast cancer.
That was 11 years ago. since that time, I have had a left radical mastectomy, and lived with many of the issues that women deal with every day that are breast cancer survivors.
Jeanine Davis
My son, Grady, took his first independent step the day I was diagnosed with breast cancer. He was 13 months old and I was 2 months shy of my 32nd birthday. All I could think of was “what is going to happen to my son? Will he even remember me?” Then one day after sharing my fears with my mother, she came to me and said, “Even if something should happen to you, although he might not remember you, he will remember the love you have given him.”” She really helped me to let go of those fears and realize my son is strong, even without me.
I have so many dreams for my son but this summed it up best: “Shoot for the moon and you’ll land among the stars”. I want him to try everything in life and do everything he wants, not to be afraid of failure. The biggest regret in life is not doing something you wanted because you were afraid. I might to be here to see him achieve his full potential but I know I have given him the strong base of love and confidence that he needs to make any dream come true.
Jo DeMars
It’s easy to think of breast cancer as a women and girls’ issue.
But it’s a men and boys’ issue, too.
When I attended the National Breast Cancer Coalition’s Advocacy Training Day in Washington, DC I met male breast cancer survivors and began to understand the affect this disease had on their lives. Then I talked with a man whose wife died last November, and I started to comprehend some of the impact that it had on him as well their twelve and fourteen year old sons.
During my cancer treatment I learned one lesson very well: Life is for living.
I painted this chair, in part, to recognize the men whose lives have been impacted by breast cancer. Whether the father, the husband, the brother or the son of a woman with breast cancer, or even a survivor themselves, their lives have been deeply affected in ways they didn’t choose or expect. Through this common experience we’ve all learned lessons of compassion, loss, grief and moving on. But most of all, we’ve learned that life is for living.
This is a man’s chair and I’ve been proud to paint it to memorialize Prince Fielder’s 2007 year with the Milwaukee Brewers. Prince’s outstanding year already features leading the league in home runs, starting in the All Star Game and being an all around team leader and player; and the regular season isn’t even over. In fact some of us expect there’s an MVP and Hall of Fame honor in his future. Every time Prince Fielder steps on the field he shows the fans of every age what “life is for living” truly means. It’s a rare chair for a real All Star and for all of our All Stars.
Karen Dubis
On the eve of my 46th birthday in 2006, I felt a lump in my right breast the size of a marble. The next day, my birthday, I had a mammogram that did not show the lump that I could feel. An ultrasound shortly thereafter confirmed two separate sites that the radiologist could not identify. Within one week I had a biopsy and the test results indicated that both locations were cancerous. I was speechless, which is unusual for me. My mother had had a lumpectomy years ago that now seemed surreal and so far away. The thought of me having breast cancer had never occurred to me.
Before surgery I was allowed to travel to China and Tibet on a vacation that had been planned for the previous year. When I returned, I went through surgery, chemotherapy and finally radiation. By far, chemotherapy was the worst thing I experienced. Two drugs, Adriamycin and Cytoxan, assaulted each of my senses. Four times, I sat for four hours while two separate poisons were injected into my body. My hair loss was the visible reality of what was happening inside.
I had my team of angels that carried me through my chemotherapy. Carol was with me through every treatment and every minute thereafter. A photographer in her spare time, she captured my image of baldness and strength. My mother, who has loved and supported me since the day I was born, made me fruit plates and gave me hugs every day. My father bought me turtle Sundays and went through lists of my favorite foods to cook or bake to keep me eating through my nausea. My sister, Susie, would go grocery shopping for me and gave me more great hugs. My nephew, Josh, cut my grass every week. Kathy checked in on me daily to see if there was anything she could do and Patt took me to pick up my first wig when I could barely hold my head up. These were my angels I carried on my shoulders that gave me my strength.
p>I received hundreds of cards, phone calls, and prayers. The sicker I got, the more I received. I never said, “Why Me?” I said, “I am strong, I can do this, bring it on.” Since first being diagnosed I have heard so many incredible stories of courage that I am moved to tears. To all of my sisters out there I say, “You go girls!” My life has been, and continues to be, sweet. I cherish every moment of every day. It is an honor for me to stand side by side with the women and men who have walked this path before me and say–I too am a survivor!
Doreen Fehr
I had my first breast biopsy when I was 25, in 1972. This showed I had cystic breasts. Over the years I had them aspirated. Then at age 35, in 1982, I had a hysterectomy. One ovary was left in, but didn’t produce much estrogen so I was put on Premrin, which I was on for 8 years. I went for mammograms every 6 months.
I had an aspiration done in January 1992 and in April my dog fell against my left breast and it really hurt. The area where the cyst was – was now very hard. I called my OB/GYN, Dr. Semler, the next day and he had me come in that afternoon. He tried to aspirate the lump, but couldn’t get anything out. He felt it was scar tissue, but wanted me to see a surgeon. The next day I had an appointment with Dr. Wagner in the afternoon. He said it would be best to have it biopsied. So I went in on May 6th at St. Michaels Hospital.
When I was in the recovery room I heard the doctor say, “Get her husband in here.” I knew that it wasn’t going to be good news. We were told I had cancer, not scar tissue and that he booked the operating room for the next day to do a lumpectomy with lymphadectomy. I met with Dr. Dubner and he told me it was stage I carcinoma with a 1.5 cm primary.
I went through 5Fu MTX and cytoxan 6 treatments. I was estrogen receptor negative, so no medication was given to me. Then I went through my radiation at St. Joseph’s hospital with Dr. Sherman. I ended radiation in January 1993. Then for 8 years I saw Dr. Dubner two times a year after that once a year. Over the years I have had cysts again and spots showing on mammograms. In November 2006 and May 2007 I have had two needle biopsies done at St. Mary’s/Columbia breast center.
So far I have been lucky. I go back from a mammogram in July. Hopefully nothing will show up. So far it’s been fat necrosis. My Doctors were wonderful to me and going through this I saw a very caring side of my husband. I also had a great support group at Waukesha Hospital.
Georgia Fitzwilliams
I wish I could say that I had this great creative moment when I looked at my chairs in their native form, and was able to transform that moment into a great masterpiece, but that didn’t happen. I recall looking at them and not seeing anything but cute old chairs. It was the intervention of everyone in that room that provided the creative inspiration that turned these chairs into an expression of love, support and understanding for a cause that has become all too common place in the lives of women everywhere. But for the support and guidance of all the women in that room, my chairs would have remained cute old chairs with just a new coat of paint. Just as a disclaimer, I don’t fish which makes this entry all the more fascinating. This is just another example of the blessings that have come to me as a cancer survivor.
My battle began 15 years ago, 1992 and again in 2003. But over those 15 years, I have experienced some of life’s greatest pleasures. I am constantly overwhelmed by the strength and spirit of all the survivors I have met. The families of cancer survivors live that diagnosis as well, and my family, like others is on the offense with me every step of the way. They are strong, positive, and loving and haven’t lost their sense of humor which is a family hallmark. Being a ‘friend’ of a breast cancer survivor brings a whole new meaning to the word ‘friend’. I am surrounded by the best friends anyone could have. The medical community that I have been a part of for so long has become more than a distribution mechanism for heath care. They care about me and it shows. And on the front line, (my quarterback), is my faith. Family, Friends, Faith. That’s a winning team!
So many emotions come to mind and I hope people feel the energy and see the love that went into this project. It has been fun, and with a bit of luck, someone will catch the “Big One” while sitting in their Rare Chair.
Diane Gamez
The physical and emotional impact of this disease is devastating – and I don’t want anyone else to have to discover that first hand. I thought participating as a 2007 Rare Chair Affair Survivor Artist would be a great way to increase awareness, to raise funds to fight for the future, and I thought it would be therapeutic during my healing process.
I tell everyone that I had good luck with my bad luck. I was diagnosed with breast cancer in April of 2006. I was lucky to have two different types of breast cancer – and I mean that literally! I had one lump in my left breast, found during my annual mammogram. Later, during an ultrasound, 3 tiny spots were found at the base of my left breast. The 3 spots were so small that if it wasn’t for the larger lump they would not have been detected. Although there was no obvious sign of cancer in my right breast, they could not be sure it wasn’t there – that, combined with my family history, I made the decision to have a double mastectomy.
My mastectomy was followed by 4 months of chemotherapy. I had more fear of the chemo treatment then I did the actual surgery. I had watched my mother battle breast cancer and go through chemotherapy for 7 years until it finally took its toll on her – she passed away 2 years ago. But, I also found strength from her to go through with it. Until the very end she always stayed positive and did what she could to battle the disease. As much as I did not want to go through the treatments, I thought, if my mom could do this for 7 years, I could do it 4 times. I believe my mom is pretty darn proud of how I have handled the situation – she was the greatest role model for me and I hope I can pass that same strength on to other women and men.
I had no idea how hard the impact of my cancer would hit me after all the procedures and all the treatments were over. I guess you don’t have time to really think about it while all of that is going on. But once it is over, or you think it’s over, that’s when you realize it’s never over. I do my very best not to think about it, but the thought of recurrence is always hiding in the shadows. I don’t let it hold me back from continuing on with my wonderful life – in fact, I just make it a part of my life and deal with it openly. It makes me feel that I am in control of it.
Camellia Givens
After being diagnosed with breast cancer, my immediate reaction was that this was something that had to be dealt with and was part of my life. I had faith that the cancer could be removed with surgery and had no hesitation in proceeding with a mastectomy, which would allowed to continue living a normal life. Although it was long and draining process, I always believed that there was light at the end of the tunnel. I had the support of family and friends to help me make it thought this extremely trying time. Support, whether family or friend, is crucial in helping to understanding this disease and obtaining all the information about it. Had it not been for the support I received, I would have given up. My support group helped me to keep a positive attitude thought the entire process.
Joan Grade
My story. At the age of 63 in May 2002 I was diagnosed with breast cancer. In July 2002 I had 3 pre-chemo which was helpful in shrinking breast lumps. And in October 2002 I under went right breast lumpectomy and lymph nodes after consulting with many specialists. In December 02′ a meta port was inserted and 4 more chemo was given. Now a total of 7. And in 2003 radiation of the breast and underarm. 37 tips for radiation. In November, 2002 a very serious infection in the armpit developed and put me in the hospital for 8 days over Thanksgiving. Now have lymphadema. June 2008 I should be done with my Femara medication for good. And pray it never returns.
This disease is genetic on my mother’s side. It has invaded both females and males of my family.
In 1967 at the age of 27 I was also diagnosed with my very first bout of liposarcoma cancer – a rare malignant tumor of the fat cells in the thigh. I could not give up because I had 2 small children. My thought: don’t give and don’t quit.
Because of my cancer I became a certified fitter Camp and Jobst to help others. I also started a Red Hat Group to get others out from behind closed doors and meet new people. And I’m always looking to do more if it helps others.
Jan Hess
Having had breast cancer has made me treasure each day of my life. In my worst days of cancer treatment, I would often visualize myself on Lovers Beach in Cabo San Lucas. It’s the place that brings me a sense of peace. All I have to do is close my eyes, and I am transported to that tranquil place. When my eyes are open, I try to spend most of my time doing things I enjoy with people I love. I also try to live a healthier lifestyle by eating a healthy diet which includes a wide variety of vegetables. I love Mexican food, and I’ve been lucky enough to have spent many of my recent vacations in Mexico. This chair embodies my zest for life as well as my love for Mexico, its food, and its ability to bring me happiness in the blink of an eye. I hope this chair will bring a sense of Mexican flavor to its new owner.
Phyllis Holder
My name is Phyllis K. Holder and I am a breast cancer victor. I was full of faith and girded for battle throughout my cancer journey. Being blessed with the ability to hold on tight to life during two years of cancer related treatments, the blues really caught me off guard this summer. Really, everything was gray. I had noticeably lost my sunny disposition.
Today, I am again full of gratitude and able to look to every day as a bright day fresh with hope, love and new beginnings. Being a rare chair artist helped me to regain my center. Even though today marks the eve of the day two years ago that I found out that I had stage three breast cancer, I am at peace. Faith restored, I am trusting God that my mammogram tomorrow will show no evidence of disease. Two years ago I went in knowing something was wrong. My annual exams and mammograms had been clean up to that point. I believe God prompted me to act with due haste and ask for a diagnostic mammogram rather than a screening mammogram to cut to the chase and start treatment as soon as possible.
When discussing my case, my oncologist always started his sentences out with ” Unfortunately, …. .” During the months we spent together, he stopped annoying me with that dreadful qualifier. He discovered that the only unfortunate thing was that he didn’t have a better vocabulary. He openly looked forward to praying with me and my dedicated (made every appointment) friend. Oh, the power of touching and agreeing, speaking life over death and acknowledging grace, mercy and talented minds and hands. My friends, coworkers, and family were angelic in caring for me and my daughter through a partial mastectomy, chemotherapy and radiation therapy.
Complications that cause pain and limit the use of my dominant arm have tested my endurance and fortitude. Occupational and physical therapy certainly enhanced the quality of my life.
So, the long and short of my story is that I AM STILL HERE. The blues didn’t get the best of me either! Volunteering to be a survivor artist was a way of challenging myself to use my arm and clear my mind. It was wonderfully cathartic and affirming. To be free to just be and create provided a needed way to hold on, just when I felt like I was losing my grip. This experience was truly a gift.
My chair, my sunburst chair, reminded me to enjoy all the colors of living, to be grateful for all the textures, and to not let negativity creep into my consciousness. Blue is an awesome color too. Over the summer, each brush stroke added to rebuilding an appreciation for and ability to bask in the glory of living. My chair became a celebration, a victory that speaks volumes about the goodness of God.
Jan Vander Heyden
I was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 38. I had a modified radical mastectomy on the left side. Then 3 months later because of my previous cancer and a strong family history of breast cancer, I had a mastectomy on the right side as a preventative measure. I have been fortunate not to have a recurrence of cancer in the 28 years since. Because of my family history of breast cancer starting with my paternal and maternal grandmothers, my mother and my older sister, I was very aware of the importance of self examination and annual mammograms. My cancer was found in the early stages and therefore, I am here today to tell my story.
Roberta Watkins
When I was diagnosed with breast cancer I was momentarily stunned, then “okay, I guess it’s my turn.” After my middle sister’s double mastectomy and total abdominal hysterectomy 18 years before, and my mother’s lumpectomy a few years before – I felt like I knew the drill. Breast cancer was just something “to be dealt with,” gotten through with, and a smile and as much humor as possible and then “get back to like as usual.” I had incredible support from my husband, Richard, of 38 years, my daughter, “Dr. Laura”, and my son-in-law, Gregg, as well as my family of birth and myriad of wonderful friends.
My sister Melinda joined me in creating this “object d’art” in memory of our middle sister, Victoria Jane Illingworth Maloney, who died on October 20, 2006, of metastasized breast cancer. We worked together on this project incorporating all kinds of things (type of chair – rocker, color pallet, kinds of flowers, the bird houses, etc.) that were very meaningful to Vicki, and to the three of us as sisters.
Melinda, who has never had breast cancer, has worked for 30 years in the field of clinical trials and took both Vicki and me by the hand and walked us through the cancer experience as our staunchest advocate. As sisters, the three of us did everything we could to help each other through and it’s a special gift for Min and me to be able to create something beautiful in memory of Vicki that will hopefully bring in money for breast cancer programs and research to help someone else’s sister.
Linda Weide
When I was diagnosed in April of 1993, our children were 17, 14, and 11 years old. I distinctly remember celebrating my daughter’s 12th birthday in Columbia Hospital while I was recuperating from my mastectomy. Later that evening, I laid in my hospital bed wondering how many milestones in my children’s lives I‘d live to see. I started setting goals. “Please God let me see them graduate from middle school, high school. Let me see them graduate from college. How about seeing them get married? I’d really like to be a mother of the bride. Finally, to me the icing on the cake would be to live to see a grandchild.” Well, during these past 14 ½ years I’ve dealt with several recurrences, which have been treated with more surgery, radiation, hormonal treatments and chemo. The majority of these treatments have been developed in recent years because of research dollars. I am living proof that we are making advances against this dreaded disease. PS. We have 3 gorgeous and healthy grandsons and my next goal is to see our son Tony and his fiancée Erin married next September. Thanks so much for your support this evening in helping me reach my goals.