Principles of Medical Ethics 

Before You Donate

Think very seriously before donating to any breastcancer organization, or fundraising program until you read their Annual Report to see who their top contributors are, and if they have a product that appears frequently in the message the organization sends to the public. That would be unethical and its illegal. The same applies to a request that the public buys products, but does not receive a "donor receipt" for tax-deductible purpose. Read any and all food labels that breastcancer "non-profits" are promoting to raise money. Some organizations tell the public to help them raise money by asking you to visit their websites, but that only gives them "hits" to increase their sponsors.

Another tip, "signing" an online Petition is not acceptable, so don't fall for such antics. An ethical non-profit, or professional will not request your visit to their website, nor use "cookies" placed on your computer when you visit their site.

Purchase the Breastcancer Postage Stamp, the Post Office will always give you your charitable deduction receipt. Its a valid form of fund raising.

For Anna Stevens and "Laura" , and thousands of other dear sisters who fought valiantly with this dread disease to protect other women, through the loss of their own lives, yet struggled to hold on long enough in hopes of finding more information for other women with breast cancer.

"To speak gratitude is courteous and pleasant, to enact gratitude is generous and noble, but to live gratitude is to touch Heaven (Johannes A. Gaertner)."

Dr. Tom Fletcher, a radiologist who re-read my mammogram and found the sites, told me my dogged determination, and the "cytokeratin staining (of the cells in my lymph nodes) is revolutionizing breast cancer."

Dr. Ron Anderson, President & CEO of Dallas County Hospital District, President of the Texas Hospital Association, and a dear friend, who answered my first call for help (and always has), and Dr. Norman Gant, a respected friend, big tease, "Dallas Forty" partner, internationally known author of many volumes on obstetrics-gynecology, and President of the American Board of Gynecology (ABOG).

Dear people, Brent (another "Forty" and Leadership Dallas brother) for always caring, and Willey, who knowing I could not have live flowers or plants due to chemo's impact on my white count, took astonishingly beautiful photographs of flowers, close up, at the Florida Botanical Gardens, and mailed them to me. They are now framed and mounted in my den.

To those physicians who have stepped forward bravely to acknowledge a new paradigm in this fight against breast cancer and standard protocols, Texas oncologists:

Dr. Jerry D. Fain with Southwest Regional Cancer Center, Austin, Texas, and Dr. John "Kent" Osborne, recently moved to Houston from The Cancer Therapy Research Center, San Antonio and Dr. Peter Ravdin his colleague at CTRC.

For the outstanding and out-spoken expertise and caring for those with breastcancer, great oncology surgeons, William C. Dooley, MD, (former chief at Hopkins), and Susan Love, MD (who gave her time for PROJECT! OUTREACH's spring 2006 no-cost mass screening in Oklahoma City.

I have not one positive comment to make about the oncologist I had at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, especially when he out rightly criticized my surgeon [after the fact, thank you]. He was aloof, did not speak English on a 2 year old level (he said he was from Italy) and he did not tell me the truth about having reviewed my pathology slides. He was shockingly unprofessional. He lied. That institution is now paying attention to the cancer I was fighting and well as spoke to me at one of our national conferences about my interest in thyroid cancer or conditions in relation to breastcancer. Up to that year, they all told me there was no connection, until that banquet in 2002.

To the brave, intellectually curious, honest pathologists (especially Dr. Max Wells) with Seton NW Hospital in Austin, and Maria Merino, M.D., at NIH, Pathology, and Lance Liotta, M.D., chief, who led me to her, because they dared to look further into this "just DCIS" diagnosis.

Dr. Alan Rabson, Director of NIH in Bethesda Maryland, welcomed me with open arms, and proudly showed me all of his great photo collection, all the world presidents, and experts who visited his office over the years (and some people who hound him -- we know about that though); they all fondly refer to Dr. Rabson as "A great American," that touched him far more than most other accolades have done . . . how will NIH get along without him - he's always an email away for me, and we are the mutual admiration society for Dr. Merino (and vice-versa). Thank you, Dr. Rabson.

To Dr. John Coscia, once in Fort Worth, the person I believe saved my life: A special breast radiologist, in whom I have a high-level of respect and admiration referred me to the radiologist in my new town who found the cancer.  We caught this, Chip and now may be "the right time!" "Chip" may be reached at The Arrington Cancer Center in Amarillo. Just call breast radiology and ask for "Chip" or they'll know where he is.

To the wondrous chaplains at Seton NW Hospital, including Father Larry Stehling who spiritually led me into my second mastectomy, when I felt that I had lost contact with my spiritual self. Father Larry is now in a church in Central Texas (former director of Catholic Services for the Diocese of Austin, Texas).

For my oncologist, Jerry Fain MD, who never failed to phone, be 'there' for me, and helped convince me that there are some things in life over which we have little control—and his faith for me, and in me.  Dr. Fain's competence, ethics, and love for his family, patients, and his God, created a possibility that I knew I could deal with. . . whatever that outcome may be. To this day, he has never failed me, and I have the utmost confidence in his dedication not only to those above but his continuing education. THIS DAY MEANS NOW, 2006 2009.

My second breast surgeon, Jane Nelson MD, FACS (Austin, Texas) who did what she knew had to be done, leading to the discovery of the metastasis. She led me to my oncologist, and wonderful anesthesiologists (who made sure I could breath well during surgery that time) and the pathologist who did the special staining.  She's braved other wars, too.

One eminent oncology surgeon who worked hard with us to form Project! Outreach, a man I spent many hours with at the SABCS in December each year, as we talked prevention, the rest of the seminar throngs were in the ballrooms learning about treatments. William C. Dooley MD (OUHSC, Oklahoma City now, formerly chief at John Hopkins) called when I had the positive pet scan results on "the ribs" and said, "Just get up here . . .come on."

And to Camille, at SW Airlines, who quickly arranged that flight to OKC for me with Herb Kelleher cheering me on - Thanks Cami (Rah Leadership Dallas!).

To my former patients (and colleagues) who came to see me while I was in OKC, and LaNell for making that drive from close to Tulsa several times - we did a lot for humane obstetrics in Tulsa in the late 60s, and turned ob care around for Oklahoma.

The faith and love given to me by new friends in my new city, and those dear ones "back home:" Margaret Baillargeon who braved coming out of her breast cancer recovery to be my advocate with my first surgeon, and with her husband, Bob, went to Prague for me because that was all they think of doing—but after five years on Tamoxafin had to fight to live after they found many, many spinal tumors, and brain tumors. I knew Tamoxafin would never last...and openly cautioned Margaret and Bob, and they took action. Now, February 2006, my beloved friend, a sister, for many years, passed away. This should never have happened...she was ER/PgR +, and supposedly HER2neu negative. Margaret, I shall miss you every day of my life.

Angie Johnson, who couldn't be more of a sister were she related to me, for standing by to drive my medical records and pathology materials 200 miles, twice, be with me on weekends, stay with me during nights of illness and fear, traveling to go to church with me every Sunday before "chemo" or another consultative trip was being launched—wondrous friend, wondrous person; dear colleagues and old time friends, including the men who are hanging in there out of their love and concern for this chronic killer of women, and now many men (cardiovascular drugs, and family histories of breastcancer, must alert men early in their lives, too).

Audrey Parker, a friend from Michigan, who braved the Central Texas heat to spend many days with me after my first chemo infusion, to the second one. No one else would have studied, questioned, or worked so diligently (pulling a mattress up outside my bedroom door to be close to me, in case . . . ), and been totally done in by Texas heat. No one! More so, Audrey volunteered to *help Dr. Bruno keep his patient in tow from 2003 on . . . as his dart-throwing intermediary between New Jersey and Texas (Michigan was a good relay point). I could hear those thing whizzing through the air every time I did something "wrong."

I cannot leave out Annette Strauss, a friend of many years, in Dallas, and that city's most highly valued individual, once Dallas' Mayor, who was always there for me. Shortly after my first surgery, brain cancer was detected, and we lost her incredible life and gifts in a short period of time. Her loss, to me, is still very painful.

My health insurance company eased my search for a new Team: "Karen" with Anthem, and "Cheryl" (now Amerihealth) were my case managers until the companies changed over. Withdrawal occurred—but Cigna is here for me now.

This would not be complete without naming "Joan" who came back into my life from high school, and worked days and nights living 1500 miles away to design this web site, and who never gave up being patient with me, especially during times when I could not think, keep my head up and respond to her directions via E-Mail and ICQ. Often her typed words came across my computer screen, "Awwww.  You can do it."  Because of another physician's arrogance, there has only been one night when I couldn't reach my doctor. I'd received some upsetting 'news' about my cancer, and Joan 'rode" out the night with me online. Anger kept her going over the incident! Such love, for so many years! And, she knows from whence I came. . .

There were special new people in my life, too: Sister Carol, helped bring me back from dehydration during one of the most severe chemo reactions with 'tiny sips' of crushed ice and electrolytes (Gatorade) for hours before I could even get to a hospital, and spent nights with me after surgeries, and bad times when family couldn't. Seton NW Hospital in Austin, Texas employees and chaplains were incredibly caring and always there when needed, and the loving care of my nurse when I got the 'news.'

Especially to Dean and Sherry Hendrickson, who I could always count on for "breakfast out" if I was feeling too sheltered (who've been here for me way before this began and still are). Patsy Callaway (a colleague with Texas Child Protective Services and Family Outreach) who coincidentally happened to move to Austin when I did) often comes up as the one person I know won't talk about "cancer, cures or 'chemo," to me, and goes to surgery ready to take up the sword to protect me. Eleanor Powell who helped push me from hearing the mammogram report to the biopsy, the lab, and made me eat, from "day one." And my Detroit high school class of 19_ _ (the females will kill me if I put in our graduation year, even though I could care less [age has its privileges]), which stays in touch by a long E-mail list. Their sharing early impressions of our lives together spurred me on, and I can never thank them enough. To John Townsend, who keeps The Kelley Road Gang in touch by email, sometimes daily . . . thank you, John.

Now, nearing the end of "chemo," to Barbara, a psychologist friend who knows me so well and affirms the realities of what I've gone through when they've saddened or frightened me. To survive this assault one experiences a battle of the inconceivable proportions, with physical pain and loss added, for no apparent reason—the cancer can't be seen, nor was it anticipated. That I believe is the reason such illnesses surface early child abuse. Its impact is similar.

Ricardo Gonzales, twice hit by cancer, who taught me how to ask  for help and not worry about helping others figure out what I needed—who 'teamed' with my oncologist in moving me to a higher plane of spirituality.

Ruth Fairchild, Austin, who kept up her visits, and never refused an outing; a friend full of awe, and one who marvels at life to the point that she erodes external meanings revealing aspects of life unbeknownst before. You are fun, Ruth, and I miss you (I see her on my trips back to Austin though).

Last, but by no means least, Dr. Keith Kesler, the psychoanalyst who has a kindness and caring for those of us dealing with cancer. My good fortune is that he is board-certified in emergency medicine and so willingly at times, carried me over torrential waters, and assured me he would be "there" when I had no confidence left. I have given him permission to use my E-mails to him for a future book we must write. That's the least I can do. (I still have those DVDs, Keith)

Now, in 2006, I have to give special gratitude to two other entities that entered my life in the past six years—formerly known as the Texas Commission for the Blind, now Department of Assistive and Rehabilitative Services (DARS), Division for Blind Services, the incredibly astute, empathetic, and caring certified rehab teachers, technology trainers, counselors, staff, and of course their director in the West Texas region—to Gaye, Susan, Steve, and our support group members—if you hadn't been one step ahead of my vision these past years, I don't think I'd be any where near the adapting to live independently, as I am, now. And, you've given me the right to "hurt," and move on. Thank you, special people—many who have gone ahead of me on this path, themselves.

Last, but by no means, least, thanks to the Post-Polio Institute, especially their dedicated Director, Dr. Richard L. Bruno. Even though I knew I had Post-Polio Syndrome since it was diagnosed in 1981, I had no idea of the research advances, and that achieved by Dr. Bruno, until someone told me to read, "Polio Paradox," in 2002. My doctors referred me to Dr. Bruno, and thereupon I met a force stronger than myself.

Without his expertise, openness, caring, and dedication to the truism that "Polio patients must not be forgotten...," he never the less maintained his own orders, and led out of a near crisis--not being able to swallow, or move my left leg—but I had to make significant changes, specifically, rest and "shed your Type A personality," and conserve to preserve (which until that time, was like hearing that order in Ketchua (Peruvian ancient language). But, I am doing it—and he never let up on me. Now adapted to a motorized chair (Jazzy 1122), leg brace, crutches, a seated Rollater for the good days, and avoiding stress like the plague, *he forced me to either change or go back to the early days in my life having Polio—perhaps, worse.

Oh, and who can forget my "Ya Ya Sisters," our united, small annexcafe breastcancer support group. We have bonded, haven't we! If only we could meet one day.

And, to all my mentees, and others, you've all taught me so much, but most of all that I only have to reach out, and you are there. That is why I can still be "here" for hundreds who e-mail me, sometimes daily.

Thank you—so very much.

I live gratitude each day in your honor. I shall always pass it on.

Reviewed: Sunday, July 12, 2009