75 The Speech

I called a friend today and the first thing she asked was, “How did your speech go?”

The speech went well. The event went well. We had a few snags, like two of the four credit card machines not working, but overall people pulled together and worked out the problems and things were fine. I was exhausted about halfway through it and just had to push through and keep going.

Doing a major event like this a week and a half after a tonsillectomy was undeniably a challenge. I owe my neighbor Michelle big time for babysitting Kelric at the last minute when the friend who had been lined up got the flu. Thanks, too, to Alexis and Jason for being willing to watch Kelric if Michelle couldn't.

Since most people, including my mother, did not get to hear the speech, I’m going to post it to the blog.

But first I want to extend a heartfelt THANK YOU to all the wonderful volunteers who worked so hard to make it all happen. I could plan and organize to perfection, but without you it would mean nothing. Many people commented to the BCRC staff about how well you worked as a team, and the BCRC says many guests declared this the best Champagne Brunch and silent auction ever. Yeah team! Thank you for all your hard work! The staff and volunteers collected around 330 items for the silent auction which was more than we had last year and a surprise in this economy. We nearly sold out ticket-wise. I don’t know the exact numbers but there were over 650 people on the list of attendees. We won’t know how much money we made until later, but I know that all but three silent auction items sold, which is great compared to last year. Rue McClanahan entertained and delighted the guests. I was only able to hear a small portion of her talk as I snuck in a late lunch at the table in the back.

This picture taken at the event shows off my new haircut. I’m at the “Command Center” where I had the computers and printers set up. The ballroom doors are behind me and I'm trying not to look as stressed as I feel.

It was an honor to be a speaker. I’m glad this is part of my collection of happy memories. (In other words, it was fun but I'm glad it's over. Time to take a break!)

MY 5-MINUTE SPEECH AT THE 2009 CHAMPAGNE BRUNCH AND SILENT AUCTION BENEFITTING THE BREAST CANCER RESOURCE CENTER:

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer on March 3rd of 2006, it came as a surprise. We had spent over a month thinking the lump was caused by an infection; an abscess; something benign.

Fortunately, I had surgery to remove the “abscess,” and while I was under sedation my breast surgeon recognized it was cancer. The hospital lab confirmed it, and my simple surgery turned into a surprise lumpectomy.

I was 34 years old with Stage II breast cancer, and 36 weeks pregnant.

On the one hand, I got to skip that agonizing waiting period between a biopsy and a diagnosis. On the other hand, I got hit by the medical equivalent of a freight truck. And 10 days later I gave birth.

One of the difficult parts about dealing with a traumatic event is how it isolates you. Your loved ones all care and support you, but unless they’ve lived it too they can only imagine what you’re going through.

I cried the most in the shower, where nobody was watching me. Things got better, but it took a while.

After my son was born, the hospital social worker dropped off brochures about parenting and babies. One brochure was for the BCRC.

I didn’t call right away, but when I did call I spoke with Ray Anne Evans. She suggested that I might enjoy a new group just forming under the BCRC’s umbrella – the Pink Ribbon Cowgirls, a social network for younger breast cancer survivors.

I attended their first luncheon in April 2006 and found kindred spirits. They had been there, done that, and they knew what I was going through. I hadn’t realized how alone I felt until suddenly I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t even the only woman in town to have been diagnosed while pregnant!

I have made lifelong friends from that group and have become part of the support network that comforts others. The BCRC honored me by adopting my cancer poetry for use with their support groups.

I finished chemo, finished radiation, and in 2006 attended my first Champagne Brunch.

The next year they entrusted me with the Brunch committee for registration and checkouts. The timing was perfect. I was miserable at my day job. My boss treated me like a replaceable cog. I doubted if my skills would fit into a better job at any other company.

My stomach churned at the thought of asking people to donate items or money, but I had a grand time analyzing checkout processes and building a system to create invoices! My ideas resulted in Brunch checkout improvements, which in turn gave me the confidence I needed to seek another job. It’s funny how one thing connects to another.

The Journal of Clinical Oncology published results of the Nurses’ Health Study in March 2006. The study found that “women with social ties who had 11 or more friends, relatives, or neighbors had a significantly lower risk of mortality than those with zero to four ties.” Hmmm… More connections… Fewer deaths…

The BCRC connects people to education and resources. It connects people to each other. That’s important work, and I’m glad you’ve given some part of yourselves to support that cause today.

Three people connected to me have died from breast cancer this year: my former co-worker Diana Knight in January; my grandfather John Behne in April, who believed the doctor who told him that men couldn’t get breast cancer; and in June our very first Pink Ribbon Cowgirl, Becky Davis.

Cowgirls gathered the Saturday after Becky’s passing, and we shared memories of our lost sister, stories from our breast cancer journeys, and support for one another.

From an X-Files perspective, “We are not alone” sounds ominous. From the perspective of cancer survivorship, “We are not alone” sounds like the comfort of a warm hug when you’re cold and scared. “We are not alone” is the strength of many hands holding you up, chasing away isolation.

This year so far, two of my friends and one of my professional contacts have been diagnosed with breast cancer. They all found the BCRC. (Those brochures are getting around!)

These women are not alone. With one of eight women diagnosed with breast cancer at some point in her lifetime and over 212,000 Americans diagnosed with breast cancer each year, they have a lot of company.

I’m so glad the BCRC still lets me chair the committee of registration and checkouts. That number stuff is fun for me. Holding onto the confidence from the 2007 Brunch, I got a dream job this year as a data analyst. My marriage survived the financial and emotional strain of cancer, which is a big deal because something like a third of relationships end from those stresses, and we delight that our three-year-old son Kelric is thriving.

It’s 2009. My name is Angela Patterson and I’m a 3-year survivor. Thank you, BCRC. I am not alone.

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74 Living

It’s almost the end of September 2009. Once again I will be a participant in the Champagne Brunch and Silent Auction that benefits the BCRC. Once again I have been chairing the committee that handles registration and checkouts. We handle item distribution, too. With two years of experience performing this role I’ve got a lot of the processes worked out and refined for how my group does its thing, and I’ve spent long hours incorporating last year’s suggestions and updating the processes to make sure this year goes even better than before.

As I’ve participated in this labor of love, my mind has occasionally wandered back to that German woman at the poetry festival in 2008 who suggested that maybe it was time for me to “move on” from cancer. The memory still makes me burn with anger. It also ties into a larger perspective on giving each other the space we need to express ourselves.


Quick recap: this woman and I both participated in a poetry workshop at a poetry festival. I read my poem about radiation. She said that her husband had had prostate cancer and she could identify with many of the emotions my poem brought out about cancer treatment. She then later approached me and said that her husband had at first busied himself with lots of volunteer work, participating in a local group and supporting others going through treatment. She said that you reach a point where you’re ready to move on, and no longer throw yourself into these things. Her implication that maybe it was time for me to move on and stop participating so actively in breast cancer causes shocked me at first, then found its way into “deeply offended” territory. My stance then and now is that I work hard to balance my cancer-related activities with other aspects of my life, and I’m not out of balance and she had no right suggesting that I correct an imbalance that doesn’t exist.

I believe that it is important for citizens to participate in volunteer work. I believe that the details of the work should align with your passions, but it is just good for the soul to get out of your regular circles sometimes and do something that benefits others.

Back when I served on the volunteer-only board of my local homeowners’ association, I found it to be a lot of work for a lot of frustration. The people who appreciated my efforts were mostly silent. The loudly vocal minority who disagreed with the board’s stance on a couple of key topics made it miserable to do what I sincerely thought was best for the neighborhood. I found a new respect on what politicians go through when they try to balance voting their conscience – doing what they feel is right over what is popular or what is easy.


At one point I visited a number of residents in the neighborhood to get their proxies for an election coming up. Sitting down and talking to my “constituents” one on one was an enlightening experience. In some ways it outlined how unrealistic the expectations were for many people and their neighborhood HOA’s responsibilities. In many ways I was grateful because it helped me see the patterns of what my neighbors wanted, like a playground for their children. I felt like a better servant to my community when I sacrificed a considerable amount of personal time to engage in these one-on-one conversations. Then I participated in the neighborhood meetings between the board and the homeowners and experienced people who were interested only in yelling their points of view and not listening to anything.


By contrast, my volunteer work for the BCRC has been about equally time consuming but scads more rewarding since the people I’ve helped are actually grateful for my sacrifices and don’t mind telling me so.

I no longer scan the Internet reading personal stories of people’s cancer journeys on a regular basis. I’m too busy living my own post-cancer journey. Sometimes I have wondered whether it’s worth it to continue writing anything in this cancer-centered blog. Does this blog still inspire anyone or educate anyone or give anyone hope?

Then Jennifer wrote me that she was scared, pregnant, and newly diagnosed and wanted someone to talk to. She lives in another state from me. I don’t know how she found my blog but I’m so glad she did. I called. We talked. I hooked her up with the Pink Ribbon Cowgirls and now she’s got a community of breast cancer sisters online to support her – several of whom were also diagnosed while pregnant. She is not alone and I’m pleased to have been in the right place at the right time to foster that connection.

The speech I’ve written for this year’s Champagne Brunch focuses on connections, and how important they are when you’re dealing with a trauma. The speech is specifically aimed at the trauma surrounding a breast cancer diagnosis, but my real message is about healing from any trauma.


Reaching out and finding others like you who have been through what you’re going through is something I believe to be an essential element of healing.


Where would we be if everybody withdrew from their volunteerism, their activism, and retreated back into their own little circles of friends and events without giving of themselves?

In other words, where would we all be if everybody “moved on” like that woman suggested I should? I firmly believed last year that the woman was wrong to suggest such a thing then. I’m still convinced of it now.

I’m not going to quit my day job and throw myself into a new non-profit to tackle some element of breast cancer. I’m not going to volunteer for every breast cancer-related event in my area. That is not how the world can expect me to make it a better place.

I will, however, make time for any person who has been diagnosed with cancer and needs someone to talk to.

I will continue to make time here and there for the occasional volunteer-based non-profit-supporting project. The next project might be to help my child’s Montessori school, or to help Wonders & Worries instead of the BCRC. That plays into what I mentioned earlier about respecting one another’s choices. A mom who helps with her child’s school’s fund raiser but never helps with a cancer event is doing work just as important, in my opinion, as the woman who dedicates her life to raising funding and awareness about breast cancer, or multiple sclerosis, or diabetes, or birth defects, or hunger, etc.

I think I am setting a good example for my little boy by actively giving my time and skills to causes about which I feel passionate.

That is not "moving on." That, dear woman, is called "participating in life." I fought my battle with cancer so I could do just that – LIVE.

“Life isn’t rich if you merely exist. Life is rich when you participate in it; notice the nuances; and never settle for just being a bystander.” ~ Angela Patterson

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