I was given a gift tonight. To be accurate, I was given several, some more tangible than others. They were all valuable to me.
About two months ago, when I was first trying to go back to Rotary after finishing chemo, one of my friends there came up and asked me if I would be her guest to a dinner honoring breast cancer warriors. She didn’t tell me much about it at the time, but I agreed, because knowing her, this was going to be a good event. She has never steered me wrong. She gave me the paper ticket a few weeks ago, and I put it in a safe place in my purse, without reading the name of the organization sponsoring it. Two weeks ago, when we had our Rotary Day Out to non-profit organizations, I chose the group that was basically a cadaver lab (and it was the right choice for that day). I could have gone to Roberta’s Legacy, a non-profit for breast cancer patients and survivors, but I decided the other was where I wanted to be at that moment.
Last week at my appointment, I said something to my oncologist about going to the dinner this weekend, and she said, “The Roberta’s Legacy one? I’ll be there too.” It wasn’t until that moment I put the name together with the event. I should have paid closer attention. Now that I have all the pieces assembled, the picture that comes through is a positive one. Roberta was a local woman who was diagnosed with breast cancer first in 2010, thought she beat it, and then it came back in 2015. I believe they said she died in 2016. Her family remembers her as a consummate giver, caring about other people to the very end of her life, even making blankets to give to newly diagnosed cancer warriors in the weeks right before her death. They tried to honor her memory by making a donation to the Rocky Mountain Cancer Center, but they were unable to accept the funds as delivered (I don’t know that part of the story), and the money ended up with a single mom in Denver who was going through treatment. She had lost her job when she wasn’t able to be there consistently, her insurance was gone, and her husband/boyfriend (don’t know which) left her. She said the money donated in Roberta’s memory made it possible for her to buy groceries for the first time in too long.
Understanding what their gift meant, the family set about creating a charity to help local women and men struggling with the financial burdens of breast cancer, and in this calendar year alone, they have reached 44 families. They help with medical bills, costs of living, cleaning services, repair services, and integrative health (like lymphatic drainage massage). Tonight’s dinner was part fundraiser and partly a chance to bring the recipients of this charity’s assistance out for a break from the hard work of fighting cancer. It was out at the Shupe Homestead, the beautiful event center in a rural part of Boulder county where we had a Rotary party last summer. The gathering room was decorated beautifully, the caterers were outstanding, and one of the sponsors was a local coffee producer who created a special roast as a party favor. The coffee company will be selling this blend from now on, with proceeds going to Roberta’s Legacy.
I sat at the table purchased by my friend, who sits on the board of this charity. She had brought in her friends and family to fill it. I felt so welcomed by them. I was nervous going in because I was attending solo, but they treated me like I was one of them. Another one of her friend-guests, who sat to my left, was also a breast cancer survivor, twice over, and I had a lovely time talking to her. In fact, I never lacked for conversation. Strangers and people I recognized alike talked to me. I’m often awkward and shy in settings like this, but not so tonight. It felt like family dinner. My oncologist was at the next table, and I recognized her PA, and a couple other people I’ve encountered through this journey. There were a few Rotarians I knew also.
I feel like it is possible so many people felt comfortable approaching me because tonight, for the first time, I went in intentionally bare-headed. My hair is starting to grow in, but it is still thin and short enough to mark me as a recent chemo patient anywhere in the world. I did what I swore weeks ago I wanted to do, and I made myself as girly as possible. I spent more than half an hour on my makeup, including shading in my eyebrows a little darker than normal and eschewing the fake eyelashes I bought for this event in favor of mascara on what few natural ones I have left. I wore more jewelry than I’d been sporting since the day before the surgery back in April. And I wore a soft sweater dress with a bright pink scarf. I sent pictures to my daughter to approve the outfit, and she caught that I had tied the scarf like a breast cancer awareness ribbon. Even I didn’t realize I had done it.
I expected this fundraiser to have an auction. I could have sworn I read that on their website or on the ticket or something. My tablemate thought the same thing. There wasn’t one, but they did have a couple dozen extra bags of the coffee to sell and donate the proceeds, and an artist had created a pendant series in a few different designs. Some looked like the creation goddess fetish like I used to hang from my car mirror years ago, and some looked like a tree goddess fetish. They were ceramic, some glazed, some not. Some had two breasts, some had none, some had the left or right one missing. If this incredible dinner and chance to learn about Roberta’s Legacy wasn’t enough of a gift, my friend who brought me also insisted she buy me one of the pendants, with little charms to hang from it. The artist didn’t have tools with her to attach the charms, so she will get that to me at a later date. I failed to get a picture. What I can show in photos is the flower centerpiece that all of us breast cancer warriors got to take home. What a lovely memento. What lovely gifts. I am overwhelmed.
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