October 2, 1999 as Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure® Day in Houston, so she contacted all the large County agencies to identify their employees who are breast cancer survivors and invite them to join her as part of the “delegation.”
 

“We came into Court in late September about 20 strong,” Karen said.  “Some had been diagnosed as recently as three months ago, but there were some ‘seasoned’ survivors among us, too, including one woman diagnosed 32 years ago.  There was nothing maudlin about this visit.  I think that, like me, the other women discovered a sense of connecting...of support and encouragement and understanding that was really energizing.  It was good for us ‘newcomers’ to meet long-term survivors.” 

“One of the common problems -- or, I guess you could call it a complaint -- is that breast cancer is so isolating.  After the diagnosis, when everything kind of implodes, you have such a sense of being alone.  You want to know why this is happening to you, but verbalizing the question seems like whining.  You re-live your life in your mind, searching for things you might have done -- or not done -- that committed you to this path.  When you are finally ready to talk about your disease, the people who already know about the diagnosis are treating you with kid gloves, afraid of prying or offending you.  Others want to reassure with stories of their friends and family members who are survivors.  But, this time, it’s your body...your life at risk.”
 

“Then,” she continued, “as you begin treatment you take yet another step across the dividing line.  While your medical support team, family and friends are encouraging and supportive, they have no way of imagining the paralyzing fear that grips you in the middle of a sentence or suffocates you awake at night.  Then, as you have mentally armed yourself for the fight ahead, you realize that there are people who know what you’re going through, what you’re feeling.  They’re the young, the old, the black, the white, the brown...the women who have been initiated against their will into the ‘sisterhood’ of breast cancer victims who know exactly what you’re feeling.  They understand the anger, the bewilderment, the fear and -- by their own success in defying the odds -- they help give you the strength to look your own mortality squarely in the face and fight to survive.”

“This was the way we felt that morning at Commissioners’ Court.  Joining our group of survivors was the wife of one of ‘them’ -- Commissioner Jerry Eversole’s wife Pat (right, in black dress, behind her husband) -- which reinforced the fact that there are no magic bullets against this disease.  I think we were all quite touched when Judge Robert Eckels and Commissioner Eversole gave each of us a red rose on behalf of the Commissioners.  The Resolution went straight to the heart of the issue by pointing out that of the 13,000 Harris County employees and retirees, 44 percent of them are women who will benefit from breast cancer education, screening and treatment projects funded through the Komen Race for the Cure.  The Resolution urged everyone -- especially Harris County employees -- to join the fight against breast cancer by supporting and participating in this event.”
 

“As we left the meeting that day, I think we all shared a renewed sense of accomplishment.  We are, after all, survivors.  But, I was also buoyed by the growing army of contacts we were assembling to recruit for a breast cancer awareness effort of our own.  It was sort of like that old commercial -- ‘I told two friends, and they told two friends, and they told two friends...’ and so on.  I am constantly amazed at the number of people who have heard about what we’re trying to do and have come forward with offers of funding and support.  And now, we could put faces with some of the survivors, too.”
  

Saturday, October 2 dawned clear and a little cooler -- a welcome break from Houston’s relentless heat that had stubbornly spilled into Autumn.  Houston Northwest Medical Center’s Breast Center provided two buses to transport a group of 50 or more women down to the Galleria area, the site for the 9th annual Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation RACE FOR THE CURE®.  The event -- a women only 5K (3.1 miles) Run/Walk along with a One Mile Family Walk for everyone -- attracts competitive and recreational runners, walkers, breast cancer survivors, individuals commemorating a loved one who fought or is fighting a breast cancer battle, and people who support this worthwhile cause.  Race day proceeds, together with corporate sponsorships and individual contributions, are used to fund local breast cancer education, screening and treatment projects as well as the Komen Foundation’s National Grants Program. 

Since its formation eight years ago, Komen’s Houston Affiliate has granted nearly $1.8 million for research and community outreach programs.  Thanks to these grants, the Harris County Hospital District was able to purchase a Stereotactic Breast Biopsy Unit for BenTaub General Hospital to support early diagnosis of breast cancer. 

The University of Texas M.D. Anderson Cancer Center received a grant to purchase a mobile mammography van, and funding was allocated for the Mobile Mammography Program to provide free mammograms for underserved women.  Komen Foundation funding also helped underwrite tamoxifen trials and other breast cancer research.  Additional grants were given to The Rose, for screening and diagnostic procedures for at-risk, low income and medically underserved women through the Breast Care Sponsorship Program; to the Hispanic Breast Cancer Education Awareness and Screening Program; and to various other local institutions for funding for mammograms and education for minority populations and research. (For additional information, visit http://www.breastcancerinfo.com; http://www.komen.org; or http://www.raceforthecure.com.)
 

“I had been warned that I would experience some pretty powerful emotions at this event,” Karen admitted.  “But, even so, I was completely unprepared for the gamut of feelings -- from tears to joy.  I was overwhelmed by the sea of women -- about 15,000 of us -- standing shoulder to shoulder, heel to toe in the early morning hours, all caught up in our own individual thoughts about how breast cancer had touched our lives.  Many of us -- easily identified by our pink hats -- celebrated our survival.  For those who proudly wore the name of a women in whose memory they walked, we cried unashamedly and offered our heartfelt sympathy.  And, for those who joined us that morning just because they wanted to show their support and concern, we silently shouted, ‘thank you.’  This was yet another event in which I was grateful to have my daughters join me.” 
 

“When we boarded the buses for home, we were exhilarated and tired all at the same time.  We knew that additional funding for research would result from what we had done that morning, and I think we all felt the synergism.  The sum of the parts was certainly greater the whole in this case, and we shared a sense of accomplishment.”
 

Karen has been accepting an increasing number of invitations to address local groups and organizations.  In sharing her experience with breast cancer, she is quite successful in persuading other women to finally get the mammograms they had been putting off.  She takes a small mini-breast with her and has people feel for the lump. If they don’t find it, she tells them to keep feeling around until they do.  It feels, she says, exactly like the lump she discovered in her own breast.  Even at the office, Karen prompts officers and visitors to do the “exam” for themselves.

Recently, after a long-awaited visit with her son Keith in San Francisco, it was time for her annual check up and mammogram.  She didn’t expect her reaction to this procedure.
 

“I knew it was something I had to do,” she acknowledged, “but I was astonished by the fear that ambushed me.  I was really up-tight about it. I told the mammographer that while I realized it would probably hurt, to go ahead and do whatever was necessary to get a good reading.  I was insistent about knowing the results of the test immediately; I was panicked about having to wait to know if I was OK.”
 

“Fortunately, they shared the results quickly and although they saw some scar tissue, they found nothing else of concern.  I’ll have another mammogram in six months to check that out.  I’m feeling tired again, though,” Karen admitted.  “By the end of the day, I’m just dragging.  I asked my radiologist about this and she said perhaps I had done too much too soon.  That’s probably true.  I was so caught up in managing the treatment and staying active on the job, that I hadn’t really listened to my body, as I have said.  I’m doing that more now.  When I get tired now, I stop and rest.  I don’t have to be superwoman, deflecting the bullets of everyday life with my wristbands.  Hey!  I’m only human after all.”