Throughout the history of the Rose, many stories have made me cry but none quite like Vicky’s.
I had known Vicky for several years primarily through the Federation of Houston Professional Women. Our first introduction was through her good friend, Myrleen Knott, who would later join our board and become our Chair. Vicky was busy coordinating some part of the Federation’s Women of Excellence Award Event and as I would soon learn, she was always involved in some aspect of promoting women and women’s business. Every year, member organizations of the Federation, such as American Business Women’s Association, the Soroptimists, Women in Finance, Texas Executive Women -- the list included over 40 organizations from throughout Harris County -- selected a Woman of Excellence who was recognized at an elaborate banquet.
The year when everything changed, I had been involved in a Federation Committee and ran into Vicky a couple of times. The Women of Excellence event came and, of course, we visited there. I look back and now know I should have picked it up on the signs then. She, offhandedly, said she needed to come to The Rose for a mammogram. I don’t remember my response, except that it was something like, “Just call the office” and I told her we could probably work her in soon.
A couple of months passed. She and Mryleen were launching a new ABWA chapter in Clear Lake, much closer to my office, and invited me to their initial recruitment meeting. I don’t remember much about the lunch. I only remember Vicky sitting at the reception table, greeting everyone as they entered, chattering away about the new Chapter—her smile ever present.
Then she saw me and almost immediately after saying hi, she said something about needing to call for a mammogram. Again.
Something cold went over me. I paused and really looked at her. She was staring down at the RSVP list the pen in her hand hovered over pieces of paper.
“Vicky?’ I asked, “Is there something going on?”
Not exactly the most diplomatic question, considering the crowd streaming by.
She met my eyes and said, “Yes.”
She paused, “It has been a couple of months.”
“And you didn’t call us??” I asked incredulously.
“I wanted to wait until I had the money,” she explained adding that her husband had been laid off, and they didn’t have insurance.
I was confused. I understood her words but I couldn’t figure out why she hadn’t called us. At the same time, my mind had sped ahead to wondering how soon we could get her in and I reached for the phone to call Brahana, our Center Director. She stopped me, “I promise I’ll call. Honest, just let me finish this luncheon.”
“Are you absolutely sure? I’ll check when I get back to the office. I know we can get you in soon.”
I don’t remember much more of that day.
Within a week or so, Vicky came for her appointment, but she refused to accept financial assistance, insisting on paying out her diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound work-up. By the time we got her to biopsy, it was obvious that she would need to go through one of our programs.
Vicky’s cancer wasn’t small, its location was not good, an aggressive tumor that would need equally aggressive treatment.
After it was all said and done, Vicky qualified for the State program. She did from the very beginning.
She began her treatment, had surgery and with every step forward, came a step backward. She had waited too long. At the height of her treatment, her husband was diagnosed with cancer as well. Months later, he lost his battle. We now know that Vicky will be on chemotherapy for the rest of her life.
Through all this she never lost her smile, her zest for life, her kind ways or her willingness to be the “support” for anyone else diagnosed with cancer. She is the first we call to talk to another newly diagnosed, the first to volunteer for any event, and the first to share her story. She is amazing.
One day Vicky tried to explain her reluctance to use the sponsorship program.
Asking for help was not something she wanted to do...accepting help was harder. Even with a family history (her mother was a breast cancer survivor), even with all her awareness about breast cancer, and, as importantly, even with her almost intimate knowledge about The Rose and its programs, she said, “I didn't want to take a spot of someone else who might need the help more.”
Vicky exemplifies the women we serve. She is the face of the women who, though employed, don't earn enough money to be afford insurance. Women who are not used to asking for charity. Proud women, women who are accustomed to paying their own way.
Back in the early days of The Rose, we heard stories like Vicky’s all the time. But this wasn’t 1986. Hadn’t we come further than this? Couldn’t we stop this from happening?
Realizing why Vicky had put off making an appointment weighed heavy on my heart. So when the pathology returned, confirming the extent of her cancer, I cried.
For a long time, I cried.
This memory is one of 25 short stories written by Dorothy Gibbons, the Co-founder and CEO of The Rose, a nonprofit breast cancer organization. She and Dr. Dixie Melillo received the 501C3 documents for The Rose in 1986. A memory will be shared daily, culminating with number 25 on the day The Rose celebrates its 25th anniversary November 10.
© 2011 Dorothy Gibbons. All rights reserved.
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