I’d attended enough non-profit events to know the importance of success stories. However, our compelling stories involved women who didn’t have insurance, and our service was in diagnosing cancer not in treating it. Plus, I’ve learned that inherent prejudice exists towards the uninsured. They’re often characterized as lazy indigents who won’t work or categorized as illegal aliens. One-on-one “asks” of donors involved the long educational process of explaining the various scenarios of the uninsured before we could solicit any level of understanding … and possible contribution.
I tried to convey that most of our sponsored women worked at low-paying jobs which didn’t provide insurance, or they had just been laid off or had some life-changing event that meant losing their coverage. One of the saddest cases was the 63-year-old, whose husband had divorced her taking with him the insurance. Finding any kind of work at that age was difficult, and she was banking on staying healthy until she was 65. The lump in her breast put a crimp in that idea. Did we ultimately help her get coverage through Medicaid/Medicare? Yes. But it took over 13 months of processing paperwork to do so.
I could sometimes get the message through to the unbelieving by asking them what would happen if they lost their job and insurance? How many months could they afford to pay for Cobra, especially if there wasn’t any money coming in? How long would they take the chance on going without insurance? What if they thought there was another job right around the corner? Would they chance having no insurance for one month? Three?
Sometimes they would listen when I explained that at that time, we had gathered over a hundred cases of women finding a lump in their breast in that first month without insurance coverage.
The truly cynical stubbornly argued, “Somehow these people find a way to pay for car insurance!” “Excuse me,” I’d counter. “Car insurance is a State law.
“No matter,” they’d insist, “If those people cared anything about their health they’d have medical insurance.”
Yeah, right.
Even with our success in conveying the plight of our sponsored women to local foundations, we continued to struggle to attract people of means, those individuals whose personal connections could move forward our cause.
So I can tell you the month, the time of day, and exactly what I was doing when I was introduced to one of the first “bold-faced names” to cross our path. Thank goodness she was one of the good ones.
It was October, national breast cancer awareness month, and I had just gotten back from giving a lunchtime presentation. I was sitting in Felicia’s office, helping her to get reports out; we were two days behind and I was determined nothing was going to distract us. That was the moment the call from Linda Hofheinz was put through.
“Hofheinz” is a name that most long term Houstonians would recognize -- synonymous with the building of the Astrodome and linked to the city’s colorful political scene.
I cradled the telephone between my neck and ear, intent on my task, trying to do two things at once when my pen stopped in mid air. The voice on the line, responding to my hello said, “I’m Linda Hofheinz and I was diagnosed with breast cancer in April of this year.”
Linda’s voice was measured and smooth, with an almost singsong quality to it. Carefully articulating each word, she said, “I’ve been talking to Mary O from the Rose Buds support group. Do you know her?”
I said confirmed that I did, adding that Mary had been a real supporter.
Linda continued, “I know. Mary was telling me about The Rose. Actually she was raving about your programs. She’s a real fan. She told me that you help women who don’t have insurance or money to get mammograms. Is that correct?”
Again I said yes, simultaneously trying to guess what had prompted this call.
“As I was saying, I was diagnosed in April and I cannot imagine what it would be like to go through breast cancer without insurance or money. I have a strong support network. My husband and family have been wonderful, and I have insurance.”
I think I came back with some feeble response about how important it was to have support, and I started to launch into all the different services we offered for the uninsured women.
She stopped my impending verbal onslaught by saying that Mary was very knowledgeable about our programs and had impressed her was with all she had shared.
Then without skipping a beat she said, “I want to make a donation and just need to know your address. Where would you like me to send this check?”
Never in our history had anyone ever called and asked for the address to send a check.
Typically, I was the one calling people asking if I could send them information about The Rose, hoping against hope that they would read it, and maybe someday, in the future, be moved to indeed send a check.
I was stunned, and for the briefest moment I couldn’t recall the address, the silence seemed endless until I finally regrouped and stuttered through it. She then asked if we were a 501 (c) 3. I said yes, and thought I must have misunderstood what she said earlier. She is calling for information, I said to myself. I’ll send it to her and then there will probably be some kind of long approval process.
“Would you like me to send you a proposal outlining our programs or a brochure?” I asked, my confidence returning, proposals I knew how to do, fielding these kinds of calls I didn’t. “I can get right on it.” I assured her.
“No.” She said sweetly, “I’m just making a note on my check.” With that she thanked me profusely for taking her call, again complimented The Rose and decisively, yet gently, said she really must be going and hung up.
I sat staring at the receiver in my hand until Felicia’s voice pulled me back into the room. Over the next few days, I replayed the conversation a zillion times, questioning if I had heard her correctly, wondering if I had handled the call correctly.
I would soon learn that Linda was a woman of many skills, much diplomacy, and a steeled graciousness that made things happen. Her check arrived four days later -- the largest donation from an individual that we’d ever received. That check marked a turning point in our history.
Over the next few months, the calls from Linda were highlights of my day. I looked forward to talking to her, and the staff soon learned to track me down whenever she called. She always seems to posit yet another idea that would in some way or another enhance our image.
When Linda decided we needed a real brochure, she meant something professionally written, professionally photographed and professionally produced. She coerced her talented sister, Diane, into writing it, convinced her graphic designer friend Steve into handling the layout and enlisted the whole marketing team at the downtown Foley’s store into doing the photography for it. All the work was donated.
One of our original “bachelors” from the Soroptimist auctions, Randy Drake, printed three thousand copies, again all gratis, and it became the piece we used in every proposal, in press packets and with those special letters of inquiry.
Linda would continue to drop in and out of our lives at The Rose. Since the cancer diagnosis, she had taken up photography and was pretty modest about all the awards she had piled up. Her talent was obvious when she created the cover of our Cookbook – a still life featuring a vase of pink cabbage roses that makes our Cookbook stand out on the bookshelves.
Linda also designed our first logo. One day, she called me out of the blue and said, “I’ve been thinking about the image of The Rose and I think I might be able to design something that would project more of what you really stand for.”
Her design was profound and polished and captured, not only why we had started, but what we dreamed of for the coming days. And Linda knew there would be many more days for The Rose.
Soon we jumped from 7 employees to 21 employees and had to lease extra office space at the main center. New funding meant computerizing our system. We were involved in more fundraisers than ever before and began to receive publicity that would have made major corporations envious. Our circle of notables was growing.
Linda’s intuition about The Rose needing a new image was incredibly timely. We were leaving behind an old way of being and entering into a new one. We had no option, the number of women needing our help continued to explode, forcing us into new areas and levels of service.
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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