Race for the Cure Luncheon 2009, May 2, 2009

My incredibly smart and talented friend Barb Guys was the honorary chair of Race for the Cure 2009. Below is the talk she gave at the luncheon.

Saturday, May 2, 2009 at 2:45pm
Salute to Survivors Luncheon
Little America
May 2, 2009


When I was born at Holy Cross Hospital on First South, I joined the ranks of US citizens and I received a social security card.

When I was four I went to vacation Bible school at the Methodist church and they gave me a participant card.

When I was seven I joined Brownies and I was so excited to place the membership card in my very first wallet.

By then I realized I was in a club called “You’re not Mormon?” I was also in a club called “What Do You Mean You Don’t have Any Brothers and Sisters – is Your Dad Dead or What?”

At 10, I joined a club – “Kids whose Moms have Breast Cancer.” It was 1970 and as far as I knew it wasn’t a club, it was just me. I know my mom felt the same way about her experience.

I went on to be in other clubs, all kinds of clubs – yearbook, drama club, drill team, softball.

For a while I was in a club called “The Kids who Smoke Cigarettes Outside Skyline High School.” I didn’t stay long in the smoking club, thank heavens.

I’m in a club called “People who Graduated from the University of Utah.”

My working life has given me membership to a bunch of different clubs – like in 1976 as a sophomore in high school I joined a club called “People who Work at JC Penney.”
Much later I joined a small company within what was then a giant company called AT&T. That’s where I met my dear friend Julie. Wave to everyone Jules!

I’m in a club called “Being a Democrat in Utah.” We’ve had our struggles over the years, but lately it’s a great time for us.

I’m a member of the Salt Lake Rotary Club – they have to vote you in, but I think that everyone who wants in gets in.

I’m a member of the Utah Women’s Forum – you have to be invited to join that one.

I’m a member of KUED, KUER, KRCL, and Costco.

On July 12, 2007, I joined a new club, a club I share with all of you today. That was the day I flunked my mammogram.

Breast cancer is the club you can’t refuse; it comes to you. If it wants you, you will be a member.

When I joined the club, I had the sensation that everything was happening really fast and everything was terrible.

What many club members learn, though, is that some wonderful things happen to us after we join the club and we end up having some truly amazing experiences we never would have had.

Mind you, it’s not enough to make up for going on hands and knees backwards through an MRI machine made for a Barbie doll. It’s not enough to make up for having your breast drawn on with a Sharpie by a committee of strangers. It’s not enough to make up for the surprise of finding that you can pee Windex blue and red devil red. It’s not enough to make up for being slammed into menopause by chemotherapy. It’s not enough to make up for having to take drugs that will either kill you or cure you – no one is sure which. It’s not enough to make up for the dread in the pit of your stomach during daily radiation. It’s not enough to make up for going into anaphylactic shock. It’s not enough to make up for the terror breast cancer causes you, your family, and your friends.

So believe me; I’m not saying we should forgive breast cancer. In fact, I think if this group met up with breast cancer in a dark alley, breast cancer wouldn’t stand a chance.

But our club does have its benefits. We have each other. We help each other. We understand each other. Other people don’t know what we know.

Long before I got breast cancer, my darling friend Jules did. Wave to the people, Jules. Julie was diagnosed at 32. We had already been friends for about ten years. Jules is 12 years younger than I am and we’re not in many of the same clubs, Jules and I, but we totally, totally love each other. Jules knew that I had been in that club called “Kids whose Moms Had Breast Cancer,” so she called me when she got her news. My mom lived a good, long life after her diagnosis, not dying at 48 when she got breast cancer, but at 82 and not of cancer. My mom lived long enough to meet Jules and to love her too.

So Jules called me when she got her diagnosis; partly to give me the news, yes, but she also called because she needed to hear that story again. The story of “You Will Be Fine.”

That’s the club we all want to be in now, the club of “You Will Be Fine.” That club is capricious as well; maybe you get in, maybe you don’t. And you’re not told which it will be.

Breast cancer gives you the opportunity to see who loves you and how much. Breast cancer proves to you that you are strong enough to cope with something terrible. Breast cancer teaches you to say NO. Breast cancer invites you to finally learn to ask for help.

When I got sick I never dreamed I would talk this way. All I knew about breast cancer is that it takes away opportunities. Breast cancer took away my friends Maggie, Ellen, Jo, and Susanne.

I know that breast cancer isn’t kidding around. I know it causes fear, heartbreak, and loss; I have experienced them.

But, surprisingly, breast cancer is good for a few laughs as well. And love. More love than people can imagine. You have to be in the breast cancer club to understand that. There’s a lot of love out there, just for us.

I felt the love when my friend Jean brought me a pot of chocolate fondue and lovely plate of fruit, cookies, and pieces of cake. I was feeling crappy about not having hair, eyelashes, or eyebrows right then, and the gift of her friendship, and her fondue, was life-sustaining.

I felt the love when our friends Steven and Geeta made and delivered an unbelievably exotic Moroccan dinner, lavishly presented and including eight completely different dishes, each made entirely from scratch. Steven told stories about visiting Morocco and I intently followed him through streets and souks, hearing the music in my mind. For an evening I felt very far from breast cancer.

People visited, called, sent cards, and e-mailed. They brought goodies, books, DVDs, flowers. You know it all. You’ve received the same. You who haven’t had breast cancer are here because you’re the ones doing the loving. I want to say a special thanks to you.

I want to thank Julie Drake, the entire committee, and of course, my darling friend Jules. And you.

Thank you all for listening to my little speech. Thank you so much for being here today. It’s inspirational when we get together. I want you to know that it’s an honor and a privilege to be in this club with you and I hope to see all of you next Saturday at Race for the Cure. I hope to see all of you next year and the year after that. I wish you all the best; I wish you health and hair and happiness. Most of all, I wish you membership in the club called “You Will Be Fine.”

Thank you.