Meeting Our Match - Day 3 of 25 Memories -- A Countdown to Our 25th Anniversary Gala by Dorothy Gibbons

In March of 1985, Dixie convinced me to go with her to the International Breast Cancer Conference held in Miami.  What a trip!  We stayed at this outrageously wild art deco hotel located in the middle of the Coconut Grove area.  I had a ball being at the conference, sitting shoulder to shoulder with some of the finest minds in the world.  At that time, I didn’t understand half of what the speakers were talking about, but it was a great introduction to the physician education process. 

Rose Kushner was listed as one of the speakers for the Miami program. She had written the book Why Me? What Every Woman Should Know About Breast Cancer to Save Her Life, one of the few books written for lay people outlining treatment plans for about breast cancer. Dixie and I had read the book, so I wrote her a letter, applauding her work, and asking if she’d meet with us sometime during the conference. I was hoping for she’d agree to coffee, but she insisted on dinner. Rose had spoken, it was done.

Rose was a feisty woman with a mouth that wouldn’t quit. She was in her mid-fifties, with dark hair, and stood about 5 feet. She was the scourge of the medical community.  The doctors, especially the breast surgeons, were terrified of her. I was absolutely enthralled. 

A reporter for the Baltimore Sun, she was one of the first women to cover Vietnam.  When she was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1974, she made medical history by refusing to undergo the one stage procedure.  At that time, the standard course of treatment for a woman with a lump was to put her under anesthesia, remove the lump and if it was cancer, then the entire breast would be removed.  Rose was appalled with the idea that a woman would wake up and find her breast gone.

“They told me they’d come out after removing the lump and tell my husband if it was cancer,” she explained.  “I said ‘Why? It’s not Harvey’s breast!’” When the medical staff kept insisting this was the standard treatment, she set out to find a different way. After eighteen telephone calls, she found a general surgeon who agreed to remove only the lump which proved to be malignant.  Only then did she allow a cancer specialist to remove her breast. 

Eventually, she was awarded the Society of Surgical Oncology's James Ewing Award for outstanding contributions by a lay person to the fight against cancer.  Harvey said it was poetic justice "because the society's members had booed her off their stage in 1974 when she challenged their standard treatments."

On this sparkling March evening in Miami, Dixie and I sat in a highly recommended restaurant with the famous Rose Kushner and her husband, Harvey.  However, for me, the quality of the meal was lost to the conversation. I have never been quite so impressed.  I had watched in awe earlier that afternoon as Rose debated with one of the leading authorities in breast cancer and other physicians about patient rights.  She was outspoken and mesmerizing.

As we shared about the work we had been doing back in Pasadena, we noted all the community presentations Dixie had done in the last year.  

Rose wasn’t impressed. In fact, she scowled.

“I used to do that,” she said, “and like you, I did it for free. I would go anywhere, anytime, and gave hundreds of talks. But I learned very quickly that my time has value and people appreciate you more when you charge something.” 

Then she went on to say, “All those speeches don’t mean squat.  A few women hearing about early detection won’t make any difference. Until mammograms are covered and mandated by Medicare, it doesn’t matter how much educating you do.” 

At that stage in her career, Dixie was pretty prim and proper. Her dress, her style, the way she talked all were a bit conservative.  Dixie had made it through medical school by cultivating “confrontation avoidance” survival techniques. She wasn’t about to challenge Rose.  But as the evening wore on, Rose’s opinions were starting to sound like personal rebuffs.  

Dixie shared the story of convincing the hospital administrator to lower the cost of the mammograms and explained her concern about it still costing too much. 

“Too many women are coming to me with late cancers,” she said detailing her latest cases, expecting a tad bit of sympathy. She wasn’t ready for Rose’s reply.

“Then why don’t you get off your ___ (what do you think she said?) and do something about it?”  Rose challenged.

Both Dixie and I sputtered.

“Like what?” Dixie asked.

“Start your own clinic. Create a non-profit.  Find a way to take care of those women.” Rose launched into a tirade about what could be done if we had any gumption at all.  Then she spent the rest of the evening hammering us about the importance of being involved with the legislative process.

The evening ended on a tentative note. We attempted parting niceties and offered half-hearted promises to keep in touch. 

We left Miami battle- scarred. 

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.