Today’s prompt was to pick one grouping of people in Seurat’s painting, ” Sunday Afternoon on La Grande Jatte” and describe their fictional conversation regarding a discussion of Cancer. This was one of the stories:

The two women were together at the water’s edge of La Grande Jatte. one standing and one sitting. Marie, sitting on the grass, said, “I don’t know what to do, I can’t get Jacques to get a colonoscopy. He complains about rectal pain, but he does nothing about it.”

Her friend, Antoinette, standing alongside, answered, “Just stand up to Jacques. Do what the Greek women did in “Lysistrata”, Aristophanese’s play about the Peloponnesian War. Withhold your favors until he does what you want.”

Marie took the suggestion. Jacques is still alive today, because of her actions (or inactions).

I thought the mammogram test was bad but it is nothing compared to a breast biopsy.

You lay flat on your stomach on a hard table.

 Then they put the offending breast through this hole in the table hanging down.

 Cold hands position the breast.

 Now I know how a cow feels when a farmer tugs on its udder with his cold hands; or a milking machine with its cold tentacles.

 The room has wall to wall TV screens. I kid with the female technicians asking,” Is this going over the Internet to YouTube”.

They laugh. But I will not be laughing soon.

 They place what feels like a bear trap around my breast, I guess to keep it in position.

Some doctor comes in. Both female technicians are on either side of me.

They instruct me to stay very still, “DO NOT move at all!”

They tell me the doctor is going to put a needle in my breast to take samples for the biopsy.

I cannot see the needle but I assume it is like many needles I have met before.

Oh….the pain….it must be huge….like a small thin metal pipe.

The female technicians rub my back as they keep my body firmly down and still.

They soothingly coo to me that I am doing fine.

The doctor does not just stick the needle in your breast; he turns it to different spots around the offending abnormality.

And as the needle turns a new pain goes through your breast.

I know this is necessary but nothing I read or was told prepared me for this biopsy.

Then came the waiting. The results of the biopsy were ready, but I had to wait for the appointment with the surgeon.

This is not a good wait like waiting as a child for Christmas day to come when I can open my presents.

Time moves very….very…..very slowly.

Do I really want to know the results?

Variable is the location,
Constant is the anger, the worry, the despair.
A needleful of my Prostate, a snip of my skin, a scrape of my mouth..
Death of tissue, death of psyche.
 
The bliss of benignity, or the malice of malignancy,
Which will it be?
Push the pause button on your life,
Don’t start anything new!
When, Dear God, when will that Doctor call?
                    —————————-
    I’m waiting for results of a biopsy, again. Last week my dermatologist found a suspicious spot on my back and took a sample. The results will be back in 2 weeks. My poem, of several years ago, says it all for me. But- I would like to see how the members of our group would write about the same subject. That will be today’s Home Prompt assignment, due the day before I get my results.

It is kind of funny that I am writing you this thank you note right now. I was in the library one night, about six months ago, looking at our books on creative writing. I saw your book, Writing for Wellness, and I immediately put it back on the shelf. You see, I was not ready to handle this kind of intimate story of my life. I also have never had cancer. My mother has had a small lump on her breast, but they got it out no problem. We caught it early, so it did not ever really affect her.

However, Julie, I have another kind of cancer. It is an emotional cancer of self-hatred that manifests itself in perfectionism. So I decided to check out your book and try it on for size. Sarcastically, I told myself that healing cannot happen through this book. I told myself that this was silly, that I didn’t make a difference in life.

Here’s the funny thing, Julie. Your book has begun to bring healing into my world. WRiting through the process of self-hatred and pain has helped me heal. I expelled unresolved anger in my life that I had held within me for so long. I forgave people and got closer to Jesus. I am also working on learning to forgive myself.

Julie, words cannot express my gratitude for the process you have brought me through. Thank you for teaching me how to love myself and grow throughout this process.

You are a friend, Julie. Thank you for your honesty and your program. It has helped me more than words can say.

Jessica Robinson

                                                                          Very Worry-free Xmas, 

                                                                                             Your Zitherists  

If you haven’t already noticed, there are 26 words, written in grammatical sentences, each beginning with successive letters of the alphabet, starting with A and ending with Z. Pat Boran, an Irish poet, gets the credit for this exercise our group is doing over the holidays. It’s in his book, “The Portable Creative Writing Workshop”. You’ll notice some stretches- Xmas, and Zitherists- to make it work. But, it is fun.

The next challenge for our members, after the holidays are over, is to try it again. This time C will stand for Cancer. For example,

                 Anne’s Breast Cancer, Discovered Early, Fortunately, Gave Her…………..

                   Last year’s garden was bleak,

                  A few annuals were all she could do,

                  Mammograms and Lumpectomies,  Radiation and Reconstruction

                  They took up most of her time.

                 This year’s sun is stronger and brighter,

                 She’s planting perennials now.

                 Gaillardia and Primula, Rudbeckia and Hosta,

                 Perennials for all those years to come!

I wrote that poem in 2007. It was written about my wife’s battle with Breast Cancer. Her mental strength through life’s tests, not just dealing with her Cancer, is what keeps me going. Death of an adult son, 3 shoulder operations, 2 broken hips, 2 colon resections, caring for me during my Prostate Cancer treatments, will give you an idea of those life tests. 

Three weeks ago she had a total hip replacement. The timing is good; I know she’ll be ready to work in her garden by Springtime!

“My advice on how to survive what life throws at you is to keep going despite the bumps, curves, ditches, detours and unpaved roads, and focus your attention and love outwardly and keep smiling. This is the way we went about our lives, living with cancer. We did the best we could under some very challenging circumstances. But, we tried to laugh, celebrate, love, and give our thanks to God, family and friends for helping us navigate life’s highway.”

At each of our last two meetings I used a reproduction from a well-known artist.

At one meeting it was Edward Hopper’s “Morning Sun”, In Hopper’s painting a woman is sitting on a bed and looking out her window. I asked the group to write about the thoughts going through the woman’s mind.

Everyone responded enthusiastically to the use of the paintings as prompts, and asked for more in future meetings. This poem was one result:

                                    If Only

                         I look out at a sun filled sky,

                         A day full of promise.

                         Can I accept this offering made to me?

                          What will it take to open this heart,

                          To loosen these strangling bonds of steel?

                          If only, ..if only.

by Julie Davey

The northbound traffic on the 5, the 57 and on the westbound 210 Freeways in Los Angeles was bad.  It was morning rush hour and I was driving the 70 or so miles up to Caltech in Pasadena to drop off my husband Bob for a seminar he was attending.  My plan was to return to City of Hope in Duarte pick up my medical records requested by my doctors in Orange County, then see some friends at the YMCA water class, grab some breakfast with them and head west to La Canada to see Lois, my dear, dear friend who is quite ill. It was going to be a jam-packed day. I thought if I waited until late morning, Lois would be up, dressed and ready for a bit of company, maybe even for just a few minutes, depending on how her day was going.

When she answered my 10:30 phone call and said to come over immediately,  I eagerly drove over, spent about an hour with her and then went to a local store for things I thought she might like.  When I got back her husband, Chakib,  said he’d like to run to the supermarket, too, and so I got to spend an hour more than I had planned. Wonderful.  Then, just as I was about to leave, a piece of medical equipment she needed at home broke and a quick call to the hospital resulted in the offer to replace it if her husband could drive to Pasadena to pick it up.  I volunteered to drive over, pick it up and deliver back to La Canada.  Traffic there and back was heavy but the round-trip took only an hour. 

I left La Canada heading for City of Hope to finally get my medical records, knowing I had to return again to Pasadena to pick up Bob at 5 p.m.. Traffic was dead stopped on the 210 East and I inched my way the 10 miles there, checking my watch as the time slipped away.  As I approached City of Hope, I feared the records office might close before I arrived.  Once off the freeway, I sped to the parking lot, walked rapidly to the basement of the main building and entered the tiny room.  I saw only three  chairs.  A man and a woman sat together on two of them.  Clearly, she was a patient–thin, pale, no hair.  Her husband or caregiver, was more robust and tanned.  I asked the staff member for the forms I needed to obtain my medical records and started to sit down.  The patient had some things on the chair next to her but quickly removed them and I thanked her.  An empty wheelchair blocked the only other seats.

I did not look at the couple but I overheard her comment that she had just completed her final chemo that afternoon. She sounded thrilled.  I also heard her husband say something about their military health insurance from the Air Force. 

I filled out my papers and stood to leave when I saw her husband trying to open the door to the outside hallway with one hand and push the wheelchair out with his other.  I grabbed the door and held it open for him.  As we walked out, I said, “Did I hear you were in the Air Force?”  He smiled and nodded. 

“My husband was a pilot.  We were stationed in Arizona at Willie (Williams Air Force Base). 

He immediately said, “I was at Luke, just across town!”

We chatted for a couple of minutes and then he asked, “What’s your husband doing now?”  I explained that he is a retired professor and does charity work as a pilot for Angel Flight.  I added that he recently suffered from neck spasms left over from pulling too many Gs in Air Force supersonic jets.  He quickly said he too had neck issues but  an operation in San Diego had fully repaired his problem.  I asked for the name of the doctor, stating we too lived “down the 5 in Orange County” and maybe his doctor could fix my husband’s neck as well. 

I dug into my wallet to get my business card to write down his doctor’s name on it.  Instead, I pulled out my card with the information about my Writing for Wellness book on it. I rarely carry those cards except when I am a speaker or at a book-signing.   

Neither of us had a pen so I just handed the card to him, thinking I would go inside and borrow one.

Instead, he looked at the small card, which had the Writing for Wellness book cover in color on it, and exclaimed, “This is YOU?”  I was stunned at his response but noted he was smiling so I figured I didn’t owe him money. 

“Yes, yes it is,” I said as I watched him open the door to the records office and rush in, waving the card at his wife as I followed.  “Look who I met!” he said to her, interrupting her chat with a doctor who had come in to talk to her.  She, too, seemed overjoyed, “I can’t believe it!  This is meant to be!”

The husband who told me his name was Bill began to quickly tell me the story of earlier in the day how Mary, his wife, was at COH for her last chemo and had stopped by the Biller Patient Center because they were early for their appointment.  From all the books on their library shelves, she had selected one book to browse through until time for her infusion in another building on the large campus. 

“I couldn’t put it down!” she told me, smiling, “and we asked if I could take it with me for the several hours I’d be getting an infusion. The director said they didn’t check out books; they had to be read there.”

The couple left and went to the Infusion Center.  While there, she begged her husband to return to Biller and get permission to bring her the Writing for Wellness book, promising they’d return it when she was through.  He did and the director agreed.

For the next several hours, she told me, she read page after page, sometimes smiling, and sometimes with tears in her eyes.  “I definitely am going to buy your book and do some writing.  People have told me journaling is really healing.”

I told her I would mail her a free book, since she is such a “fan” and I asked for  her mailing address.

She said she was so inspired by the stories in the book that she is also going to volunteer, as the chapter “Giving Back” suggests, by freely giving of her time and talent as a physical therapist to cancer survivors.

As we three hugged and then started to go our separate ways, we agreed that we were supposed to meet, discuss neck therapies and writing for wellness. They revealed that they, too, had planned to be at the records office much earlier but a series of delays changed their plans too.   We also agreed to meet again soon. 

They went in one direction; I went in another.  Destiny?  I believe it was.

I am privileged to be here today at the City of Hope with Linda’s family, friends and co-workers as well as the doctors we shared–Dr. James Andersen, our surgeon, and Dr. Lucille Leong, our oncologist, both of whom will pay tribute to Linda as well. She is gone but not fogotten.

Linda lives on in so many ways, in so many hearts. I am honored to tell you about one aspect of my soul sister and how Writing for Wellness got started and continues to expand even today.

On my way to an appointment here at City of Hope, right after the 9-11 tragedy, I saw a man in a volunteer’s blue jacket leading a small group of very young pediatric cancer patients (dressed in their pajamas and wearing surgical masks) right in front of the Pediatric Building which is now the Women’s Center. They apparently were on a field trip from their hospital beds and they were happily waving their arms, skipping and marching under the direction of the young man, who I surmised was a volunteer. I immediately realized that volunteers could actually help patients feel better, walk with them, talk with them, smile and help them out. I decided then and there to become a volunteer, to give back. I felt very emotional and at my appointment with Dr. Leong,  I announced, “I want to volunteer here; I can drive a golf cart,” knowing that despite never having driven one, it was one job many volunteers did–wearing their blue coats and chatting with patients as they drove them to their appointments on this large campus.

Dr. Leong, knowing my background as a college writing professor, asked, “Why a golf cart? Maybe you could do something more in line with your background.” She picked up the phone and called her friend, Jeanne Lawrence, who arranged for me to meet Linda Baginski right after my appointment.

When I walked in, Linda smiled her big smile, welcomed me, hugged me as if I had been heaven-sent, and said she had just been hoping that a writer might show up because she had an idea for a class for patients, caregivers and staff. She even had the name for it “Writing for Wellness.” She said all this in one long sentence without taking a breath.

She went on to tell me about Pink Links, Hands on Harps, and Art for the Heart classes already underway and a writing class would provide another dynamic of expression for those on the cancer journey. We sat down and immediately started to plan. I assumed the classes would start in a month or so. Linda, the do-er, had other ideas.

She decided classes should begin immediately, stating that people had immediate needs. And, within hours, Linda and I had an outline for the class, a place and time to meet and she had called her supervisor Annette Mercurio and gotten approval to begin. Within that week, the first class had been advertised and we started. That was in 2001. People came that first night, they wrote their hearts out, including Linda herself, Jeanne Lawrence, Annett Mercurio, Marilyn Rhodes, Shirley Otis-Green, Joan Smith–all present with us today and many others, some of whom, like Robert Prado, are no longer with us. I was surprised that everyone was willing to share what they had written, even though I didn’t ask them to read aloud. They wanted to. Again, Linda’s Legacy.

After teaching the classes for several years and collecting what I felt were beautiful, inspirational and even humorous writings and poems from those “students” who had come to my class, I organized the writings with the help of Bill Matteson and others into what we thought might become a teacher guide to help people elsewhere in hospitals and medical centers teach the same class, showing and reading what others had written to inspire and encourage patients and caregivers.

Instead, the teacher guide became a book, published in 2007, with the foreword written by City of Hope CEO Dr. Michael Friedman, present with us here today, and Dr. Lucille Leong. Our book, with writings by 60 former students, is now being used in hospitals, wellness center, churches and senior centers in many places throughout the United States, all profits and royalties going to City of Hope. Linda’s Legacy.

Besides being on the acknowledgement page along with Dr. James Andersen, Dr. Friedman, and Dr. Leong and others present today, Linda’s own words appear in many of the chapters–her poetry about women with breast cancer, her humorous writing about how her husband, John bought her a Harley–one of her life’s dreams.  Another of her writings was a tribute to the late Hattie Anderson, who Linda knew and who gave generously to City of Hope and cancer patients.

The class Linda started and named continued for nine years, every other Wednesday during the daytime when staff, patients and caregivers were on campus and could attend during the lunch hour. We always provided the lunch–chicken soup being a regular. The spreads grew into potlucks and many attendees joked that they only came for the food.

I moved to Orange County in 2009 and the class here at Biller Center is now being taught by one of my former students, Carole Palmquist. She also assists Pat Dudley who is teaching the class at  Presbyterian Intercommunity Hospital, Whittier. Carol has taught the class at her church and in her home.

Just last Friday, Joan Smith, (please stand, Joan) who attended the very first writing for wellness class in 2001, began teaching her own series of classes at Leisure World in Seal Beach. Again, Linda’s Legacy.

Classes are continuing at the Wellness Community in Phoenix, at Seattle’s Harborview Medical Center, part of the University of Washington Medical School; Huntington Hospital in Pasadena; University of Arizona Cancer Center in Tucson, a wellness center in Maryland and I personally have taught classes at Mission Hospital in Mission Viejo. A 7,000-member church, Cornerstone, in northern California has offered the class for four years, taught by Kathy Vader who wrote her own teacher guide for the book, which is now offered online. The writing for wellness book is also available as an e-book as well. All of these classes use our book as their text and workbook. Linda’s Legacy.

When she was re-diagnosed with cancer, it was during the time the late James Cremin, a cancer patient and Hollywood producer, attended my class and started filming it for his documentary he titled, “Visions of Wellness.” The first day of filming, Linda was in class and when I asked for volunteers to read what they had written, Linda was the first to raise her hand and jump to her feet. Her powerful poem, “The In-Between” can be viewed online at www.writingforwellness.com. The text of the poem is at the end of this article.

Linda’s Legacy.

Linda is beautiful, articulate, determined, feisty and, thanks to James forever on film, upbeat and grateful for life itself. She is the Linda we all remember.

Please visit that site to see her and how her words continue to inspire others to fight cancer, remain positive and live life with gusto. Hundreds have watched the film. The last time I checked it was more than 800. I have shown the film when I have been a guest speaker in Denver and Atlanta. Everyone is especially moved by Linda’s words.

Those present here today who are, like Linda was, published in the book, please stand. You are all part of Linda’s Legacy. We will continue her work.

Now I will end with the selection that also finishes our book. These are words of another Linda, Linda Bergman, a good friend of Linda Baginski’s who is a famous Hollywood writer/producer and attended the writing for wellness classes.  She almost gave up on life itself and wanted to stop  chemo and go home to die,  after being diagnosed with chronic leukemia on her 50th birthday. But, through the tenacity of her doctors here and her children Adam and Sarah, and her husband Chuck, who begged her to try just one, last clinical trial to cure her leukemia, she reluctantly agreed. Four months later she was cancer-free. Her life was forever changed and she chose to give back her time and energy to her fellow cancer patients and work with Jeanne Lawrence as a volunteer at the Patient and Family Services Desk, reassuring patients and giving them hope through her own example.

I spoke with her yesterday. She is in northern California with Adam, getting him settled in a new house. I told her I was going to end our tribute to Linda and asked if I could read her own words from the book. She said she was delighted, “I loved being called, the OTHER Linda,” she told me.

Free At Last
I have reached my goal. I am no longer the victim, but am assisting those who’ve come behind me. I see it on the patients’ faces when I get the opportunity to say, “Oh, you have leukemia? I HAD that, too.” I see the light in their eyes as they search mine for answers. No, we don’t always have the same disease, but they know I speak their language.
They know I can be trusted.
They know I have faced the demons and lived to tell about it.
They know I am disease-free and standing in the midst of the storm shining a light to them.
They know I love them because I AM them!
-Linda Bergman.

Linda Bergman’s words were also read aloud from our book this past May at the Waldorf Astoria Spirit of Life Awards luncheon, a major fund-raiser for City of Hope, by Ann Levine, president of the New York City chapter who presented the award and a copy of our book to ABC’s anchor and breast-cancer survivor, Robin Roberts.

Again, Linda’s Legacy.

Thank you. Let’s all continue Linda’s work.

Living the In Between
Linda Baginski

“Your cancer has returned,” she said.
“Yes, it has been many years since the first time, but that’s not uncommon.
Yes, it is not curable, but will now be treated like a chronic disease.
You should be fine,
Until you are not.

You will take a prescription X for a number of months,
Have blood drawn every other month,
Have an infusion once a month,
And see me on alternate months.
Then you will have some scans to let us know.”

Let you know what?

“In between the treatments we will do some scans
To let us know if they are working.
If the cancer is stable, shrinking, or if it is growing.”

Oh. In between…

“Yes, in between the scans and the treatments you should just take it easy.
Be positive. Enjoy yourself.
In between you should live,
Until you stop.
In between you should do all the things you’ve always wanted to do
Until you can’t.
In between you should start putting yourself first
Until you are last.”

But in between is so short and so segmented.
In between is so disjointed and disconnected.
In between is frantic and fragmented.
In between is terrifying.

“Yes, but that is all you have: the in between.”

No. No, it is not.
And I know what I’ll do.
I will widen the in between to each corner of my life.
I will erase the chalk lines.
I will fling back the curtains, stick my head out the window, and yell.
There will be no in between here, just a sum of many parts, a grand total of all.
I will inhale the love all around me, not hold me breath until you call.
I will surround the full circle with loved ones so dear.
Close the gap of uncertainty.
Exhale the fear.
I will not mark the calendar with Xs in black.
Will document my blessings, not list what I lack.
Move over in between, I forbid you to stay.
Make room whole living,
Honor fully each day.