It’s damn-near a novel. Please bear with me and read it; it makes me very proud.
The plan was for Robin and I to meet at the Kansas City Airport around 8:45a.m. for our 9:35 flight to Indy via Southwest on a recent Friday morning. I became somewhat concerned when I called Robin at 8:45 and she was just leaving her home in Tongie… a good 30 minutes away. I had printed off both our boarding passes the night before so I could not go through security or to the gate without her. In true Robin fashion, she made it, but then I really began to sweat when our names were called over the intercom and we were still stuck in the baggage screening line. As luck would have it my bag looked suspect (an oddly shaped candle I’d bought for Josie was the culprit) and they pulled it to the side for further screening. By now there was a person from our departing gate actually standing there yelling our names. It was embarrassing yet necessary to identify ourselves as the two losers who couldn’t seem to play by the airport rules and arrive 2 hours before our departure time. The fact I was sucking down a Starbucks probably didn’t sit well with them either; plenty of time to satisfy "that" vice they must have mused. Suffice it to say we got the last 2 open seats on the plane, there were 200 angry people staring us down when we boarded, our carry-on luggage was stripped from our hands leaving us doubtful it would make it to Indy with us, and my final penance was when I found the one last available middle seat in the back of the plane, the arm-rest was up. For good reason I quickly summized… the woman sitting in the window seat would not fit in it had the arm-rest been down. The guy in the aisle was a huge athletic man… I crawled over him and sat in my 16 inches of Southwest Real Estate for the next 70 minutes nursing a Bloody Mary all the way.
I quickly located Robin at our arrival gate in Indy, her back was to me. “Robin-Bobbin” I said as I came up behind her, “you are not going to believe how horrible…” at this point she turns around and I can see she has been bawling! OMG… what could possibly be wrong already, did she call home when she landed and someone is hurt or sick? Was she not able to drink away her pissiness at a bad seat on the plane as easily as I had? “What the heck” I asked her. “Oh Chrissy, I think I just met an angel, her name is Trudy.” This stuff only happens to Robin… a stranger she never meets! She then proceeded to tell me Trudy’s life story, the names of her son (Tommy), her husband (John), sister (Frannie, the wild one) and even her grandson (Sawyer)! Trudy’s life has been sprinkled with tragedy along the way and Robin absorbed all of her pain in that one short flight. Robin saw a beautiful elderly woman with a heart still full of faith and love. I saw a sweat stain on my khaki Capri’s from my LUV neighbor’s leg! That’s probably the most fundamental difference between the two of us… Robin always see’s the good in people first. Though I eventually see it if it’s there, I tend to notice what aggravates me about someone first! The world needs more “Robin’s” in it.
Josie picked us up outside the baggage claim; our luggage made it too... Hallelujah. I was barely in the car when my phone rang and it was an Indy area code. Josie was sitting right beside me, ‘’Who else could it be’’ I wondered. “Fox 59, The Indianapolis Fox affiliate” was calling to see what our plans were for the day; could they possibly meet Robin and I for an interview they asked. Apparently they were intrigued by the fact that Robin and I would come all the way from KC at our own expense to participate in the Tissue Bank collection that weekend. Bazbeaux Pizza, (Indy’s best) on Mass Ave. is where I told them we were headed, “Come on down”. Max showed up just at the exact time our pizza did. “Go ahead and eat, I’ll wait outside for you and we’ll shoot the piece then” he told us. I was such a nervous wreck I told Robin we need to do this now… “I’m getting sicker by the moment just thinking about it.”
Let’s just say, we were so horrible that we never made it onto the news that night. At least not that I could find… so our TV debut was a huge bust! The reason I know this for sure, Josie “flipped” it, so I later saw what the camera-man saw right in front of his very well trained eyes… Robin and I sucked big time.
The rest of the afternoon was spent hanging around downtown Indy which is a remarkable city. Josie’s daughter’s Nancy and Molly were with us and since Molly had just been named the “Marion County Fair Queen” the week before, we really felt like we were among Royalty. Josie, “the Queen Mum” adapted to her new role effortlessly by serving us Tanqueray and Tonic’s that evening; it’s the Queen Mum’s drink you know!
Saturday started early. There was a buzz of activity going on in the Shannon household, Ned had gotten up early and made the coffee; “Dark Line” was a gift from Robin and I from our hometown bean shop “The Roasterie”. It was a strong start to what would become an incredible day.
Arriving at the IU Simon Cancer Center downtown, it quickly became evident that this is a well run event; Jill Henry, KTB's C.O.O. was equipped with specially designated cell phones, clip boards and who knows what all was in her fanny pack! Women were everywhere, a few men sprinkled into the mix as well. We were given these bright green Komen T-shirts that would identify us as volunteers to the donors, who got pink T-shirts, and would be arriving soon. Robin and I were escorted to our work station for the day; we would be in charge of weighing and measuring the donors. Popular, we were not!
In retrospect, we could not have been assigned a better station. We were the only one that had every single donor come through it. Once they got past us, there were multiple stations that performed the same task to keep the flow going efficiently. These included phlebotomists, consenters, lab processors and of course the surgical oncologists and radiation oncologists of which there were four. Robin and I got to meet every single person who selflessly gave of themselves, most all of them honoring someone they know and love, and quite possibly lost because of breast cancer. It was incredibly moving to meet, talk to and touch these brave women.
The day before we left for Indy, I had a brainstorm. That’s how mine usually come… with little notice or time for preparation. But this one haunted me… I HAD to follow through. Five framing stores later, I found a woman at the Frugal Framer in old Olathe who would cut a piece of matt board 14x14 with a 4x6 hole cut from the middle for a photo of TC I carry with me. I then picked up a variety pack of Sharpie’s and crammed it in my suitcase.
Saturday morning over that yummy cup of Joe, I took out a bright pink one and wrote, “For my sister TC, and all who have fought the battle… We salute you!” My idea was that maybe a few women would sign it; I was betting that most of them have their own “TC” story and it was for them they were here this morning.
I tucked the matt-board on a back counter at the station Robin and I were assigned. The issue became how would I be brave enough to ask these women to sign it? I was informed by Connie Rufenbarger, a true pofessional down to every tiny detail, that since we were in a hospital setting and I was asking people to sign something, I would have to quote HIPAA law to them first. Talk about removing the intimacy of the moment!
But alas Carol Rogers came through our station. Carol was the ring-leader, (along with Sheila Seiler, the Executive Director of the Komen/Evansville affiliate) from Evansville, IN who brought a bus load of women, mostly Hispanic, with her to donate their tissue. In response to a study that cites Hispanic women to be 2.7 times more likely to have “an advanced cancer, which lessens the effectiveness of treatments,” according to a press release detailing the collection, Carol gathered them for a long day of bus travel, tissue donation, and education regarding the importance of self-breast exams and mammograms.
As Carol started to walk to the next station, I mustered up the nerve to call her back. I had noticed she had a note pinned to her shirt and it appeared to be honoring someone. I asked her about it and sure enough, it said “for my mother and my daughter” and a short note about each of them; Carol was my perfect victim!
“Carol this is a personal favor to me. Would you mind signing this board? It’s is a picture of my sister TC who had breast cancer; I am here for her, the two daughters, Kacee and Ashley she left behind, and of course Jordan, my own daughter who is also now considered “high risk”.
Just like with every woman who signed it after Carol, I witnessed the most beautiful transition from “ha-ha, I don’t weigh that and how on earth did I shrink?” to Carol retreating some place back in her own private memory bank. Many became emotional and cried; most turned and hugged me after they signed. I’ll never forget Beth A.; she recently lost 25 lbs and was hootin and hollerin on the scale, unlike most of us! When she saw TC’s photo and picked up a sharpie, it’s like time stood still. She looked at it and as she read it, her lip quivering… she was “back there”, amongst the pain. But then, and this happened with every single woman, she took a breath and her chest jutted out much like a warrior heading into battle. In a matter of moments, her sadness transformed to anger which transformed to determination; determination to be a part of winning this battle and ending the war. Beth turned to me crying, hugged me and said she’s doing this for her sister and the niece she is now raising as her own. Shivers just went up my spine again, re-living that moment by writing these words.
There are too many Beth's, too many Carol's. . . .who lost not only her mother, but her own breasts to this disease. Now she's facing the uncertain future of her daughter Sarah, the mother to a beautiful 5 year old little girl. Sarah, like too many other young mothers, is in an ongoing battle with her own breast cancer. Instead of questioning "why me, why us" and cursing God's plan, Carol is out there rallying women to be a part of the cure. She still holds on to her faith that hopefully it's not too late for Sarah. . . a young woman who is meeting this disease head-on with the fury of a tigress protecting her young. Sarah is a runner and still manages to get in several miles almost every day, even though she has had a hip replacement -- a result of her cancer; she is a Life Lesson to all of us that we should live every day God has given us to its fullest.
Around 10:30 that morning, ABC’s Indianapolis affiliate showed up to interview Robin and I for a segment on their news that evening. This time we had the skillful eye of Michael Schug, communications specialist for the IU Simon Cancer Center, watching over us. His presence put Robin and I at ease a bit and this interview went much better than the last. At least we made it to broadcast that night!
I went first; the Channel 6 reporter Renee Jameson was very good and showed great patience waiting for our answers which resulted in getting our stories out there. Mine of course was about TC. Robin would talk about her mother Lois who is a 35 year survivor. When I wrapped, we all turned to Robin as if to say “your turn” but lo and behold, Robin was bawling again. She did not have her “TV” face on but instead a bright red swollen version of it. This was her pattern for the weekend… she must have cried a minimum of 9 times by the time we got back to KC. Often that day I found myself running the station alone; weighing, measuring, getting my board signed all the while wondering where the heck Robin disappeared to. Undoubtedly she was in the bathroom “getting herself pulled together” after hearing yet another moving story by one of the day’s donors. ABC hadn’t sent a “make-up crew” so please, when you watch Robin on the clip I included, know that ordinarily she has lovely eyes that actually open, and no, she does not have high blood pressure, her skin is usually a beautiful, warm color reflecting her American Indian heritage!
Even though we got through this interview process relatively intact (Thanks Michael), my heart continued to beat outside my chest. “They” were looking for me; it was my time to donate tissue. Ms. Jameson had just asked me a few minutes earlier what I was feeling. Without skipping a beat I said “fear”. It was the truth. Yes we came here to make a difference, yes we knew our loved ones were proud of what we were doing and yes the day was proving to be one we would never forget. But when it came to the actual procedure… I was scared. It was going to be the equivalent of 4 breast biopsies I was told. I’ve never heard anything pleasant about one, much less 4 at a time! I’m a pain-pussy… no threshold. Robin was scared too… I’m sure every woman there was scared. And then another one of my brainstorms occurred…
Joe, the behemoth of a camera-man was standing alone nearby while Ms. Jameson was asking a few questions of one of the Doc’s. I moseyed up to him and said, “Hey Joe, I don’t know if you’d be interested in this or even if the tissue bank would allow it, but I am willing to let you film my procedure if you would like to”. He lit up and said, “Really Chris, you would do that?” My thought at that moment was that the tissue bank can only be successful if women come to donate. Fear is probably in my opinion the number one reason for not donating. If I could ease that fear by showing how easy and virtually painless it is to do, maybe even more women will come out next time.
“Chris Baker” I heard being called down the hallway, “we need Chris Baker”. My time had come and I left Joe to contemplate my offer.
A few minutes later I met the oncologist who would be performing my biopsy’s… Dr. Robert Goulet, you just can’t make this stuff up! He was all business; sitting down with me initially to make sure I had read the fine print containing the risks, the side-effects and secure my signature on the release form. From there it was lay back down and let’s get this done.
Not quite so fast there Doc… there was a knock at the door. “Is Chris Baker in here?” someone was asking. It was Joe, the camera-man asking me if I was still willing to be filmed. I told him yes but it was up to Dr. Goulet whether or not he’d allow a camera in for the procedure. “Sure, come on in, how’s my hair look?” he replied which was a hoot because the man is folically challenged. His quick wit and demeanor quickly put me at ease and I knew for sure at that moment I was doing the right thing.
Dr. Goulet told me there would be no sneering in the camera; I had to help him look good. He quickly followed that light-hearted comment with “we can stop anytime you want, just say the word.” I told him I hadn’t come all this way to stop so let’s get this thing done. In all honestly, yes… I had my brave face on for the cameras but I was still scared. The doctor explained ahead of time every noise I would hear and what sensation I would feel. He was spot on and I’m here to tell you from my own personal experience, it was a piece of cake. I was so at ease after the first one that with cameras rolling I looked up at the good Doc and said, “I can’t wait to get home and tell my mom Robert Goulet touched my boob!” We all had a giggle and 15 minutes later I was back out at my station along with Robin who also had the procedure done during this time by a different oncologist, weighing and measuring more donors as well as securing more autographs for my treasured souvenir.
The day wound down around 4p.m., every one of the volunteers moved swiftly into cleaning mode. The Cancer Center we had invaded for the day had to be ready for the day’s business on Monday. Doctors, nurses, lab technicians worked right alongside all the other volunteers; no task was too menial for any of them.
I spotted Dr. Goulet and although I had reserved my matt-board for donors only, I really, really wanted him to sign it. But for whatever reason I deemed him unapproachable at this time. I knew he had personally done probably in the neighborhood of 400 biopsies that day and was just taking a breather. I walked away. But something inside me willed me back to him and I approached him the only way I really know how when I’m out of my comfort zone; I used humor.
“Hey Dr. Goulet, since the two of us may end up on a U-Tube video together, I thought maybe you would sign my board. (Oddly, I still didn’t know what to call this treasure I’d been carrying around with me for 36 hours and almost 500 miles now.) He glanced at it and said “What’s this?” As I bumbled some answer he simply took it from me along with the pink Sharpie I was holding out and turned away from me. I expected nothing more than the same signature he scribbles on prescription pads for medicines I pray I never have to know the names of. But the sound of the pen scribbling on the matt board told me unequivocally that there was going to be more to it than just a man’s name. As he turned back toward me, I thanked him and awkwardly tried to take it from his hands. There was an ever-so-slight tug, and I let go. It was then he pointed out his words to me, he chose a perfect spot right next to TC’s picture and read them to me aloud. “For Barbara & Sally & all my Girls!! Robert Goulet M.D. “Sally is my mother” he told me, “and Barbara is my wife. My girls are all my patients.”
The magnitude of this disease, which I thought had long ago made itself blatantly clear to me, sucker punched me one more time. I looked up at Dr. Goulet, both of us somewhat misty-eyed and said, “This disease discriminates against no one.” Shocked that a man who has devoted the better part of his life trying to cure “his girls” and I would venture to guess a few men as well, is also a victim of this cruel beast. He gave me a slight nod of his head and turned to walk away.
Robin and I left Indy early Sunday morning for home. We are not the same two people who arrived there a mere 42 hours earlier. We “drank the Kool-aid”. It was Pink.
We will go back and we hope to bring some of you with us. But ultimately, we want to bring KTB to you. I told Jill Henry and Dr. Sue Clare… you come to us and I WILL deliver you 100 donors and as many volunteers as you can possibly need. Dr. Clare, though clearly gratified, told me the problem with that is the Doctors are only licensed in Indiana. They can only practice there, Hawaii (because of some reciprocation laws) and Military bases.
“Military bases did you say” without skipping a beat. Fort Leavenworth in Kansas is within 30 minutes of anyplace in the Kansas AND Missouri metro. She looked at me and said, “Let’s keep in touch."
The answer lies within us; the cure is coming. Every woman, in every town… wants to be a part of it. Please come to Kansas City IU Simon Cancer Center; we’ll treat you right. I’ll even make the Kool-aid; pink of course!
To watch the Channel 6 TV interview, click here. Once on that site you will have to click on the video itself. To read Chris’ interview with “The Indiana Student”, click here. For information on the Komen Tissue Bank and how you can help, click here.
