Thursday, April 7, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
To Hair is Human: A Daily Dose of Jealousy
To Hair is Human: A Daily Dose of Jealousy
It was a cold, wintry day here
in Buffalo, New York. Three years to the day since I had my last chemotherapy
treatment, this December 23rd. Typically I am one with a positive spirit,
finding my cup overflowing with the delight in life itself. However, on this day
my mind could not help revisiting the past. I was in the check-out line at the
market when all of a sudden, my eyes opened wide and my mouth fell open, I
wanted to scream, oh my gosh!!! To say that I was staring is an understatement.
I could have sworn I was drooling upon the nape of this woman’s neck, feeling
like Dracula getting ready to pounce on my next victim. For what you ask? HAIR!
There before me stood this woman with the most beautiful hair, pulled back in a
rubber band that went well past her rear-end. Could it be? I was full of joy,
jealousy and pure ecstasy!
Now giggle if you must, but I wanted to take in
this beautiful site. I immediately conjured up visions of all the women, young
and old, that would benefit from her hair, this stranger full of Locks of Love,
INDEED! While I thought about approaching the woman, I wrenched inside, fearful
of her response. I had to ask myself, does this woman have a story of her own to
tell? Was I so selfish to think that my thoughts were to be imposed on her,
right here, in the check-out line? I never lost my hair during my chemotherapy
treatments. I always felt as if this rite of passage somehow minimized my
diagnosis. Are we such a society based upon appearance that I placed
immeasurable worth on this woman’s hair? YES!
Well, what happened you ask? I
did not approach the woman. I contained my voice. It is my hope that her life is
full of happiness, health and blessings. With so many uncertainties in life, in
the end, I determined it was not my place to tell my story, not my place to be
an intrusion on her life. It is with great conviction that I respect her getting
her groceries, and I will never forget the pleasure I felt seeing hair for the
first time.
It was a cold, wintry day here
in Buffalo, New York. Three years to the day since I had my last chemotherapy
treatment, this December 23rd. Typically I am one with a positive spirit,
finding my cup overflowing with the delight in life itself. However, on this day
my mind could not help revisiting the past. I was in the check-out line at the
market when all of a sudden, my eyes opened wide and my mouth fell open, I
wanted to scream, oh my gosh!!! To say that I was staring is an understatement.
I could have sworn I was drooling upon the nape of this woman’s neck, feeling
like Dracula getting ready to pounce on my next victim. For what you ask? HAIR!
There before me stood this woman with the most beautiful hair, pulled back in a
rubber band that went well past her rear-end. Could it be? I was full of joy,
jealousy and pure ecstasy!
Now giggle if you must, but I wanted to take in
this beautiful site. I immediately conjured up visions of all the women, young
and old, that would benefit from her hair, this stranger full of Locks of Love,
INDEED! While I thought about approaching the woman, I wrenched inside, fearful
of her response. I had to ask myself, does this woman have a story of her own to
tell? Was I so selfish to think that my thoughts were to be imposed on her,
right here, in the check-out line? I never lost my hair during my chemotherapy
treatments. I always felt as if this rite of passage somehow minimized my
diagnosis. Are we such a society based upon appearance that I placed
immeasurable worth on this woman’s hair? YES!
Well, what happened you ask? I
did not approach the woman. I contained my voice. It is my hope that her life is
full of happiness, health and blessings. With so many uncertainties in life, in
the end, I determined it was not my place to tell my story, not my place to be
an intrusion on her life. It is with great conviction that I respect her getting
her groceries, and I will never forget the pleasure I felt seeing hair for the
first time.
A Tattoo For You
A Tattoo for You!
By Pamela
“What would life be without art?
Science prolongs life. To consist of what – eating, drinking and sleeping? What
is the good of living longer if it is only a matter of satisfying the
requirements that sustain life? All this is nothing without the charm of
art.”
~ Sarah Bernhardt
A Tattoo for you?
The love
between a parent and child is unconditional and without boundaries. It is this
unconditional love that was recently reciprocated that brings me to write this
latest submission for In the Loop. As a mother, I have never understood the art
of tattooing but I know that my son Sean, a 6’3” very handsome Irish 24
year-old, is smitten with them. Now, it is an understatement to say that I am a
conservative person who enjoys a splash of color in my wardrobe when I feel
daring; adding lipstick when I am out of control!
For the last three years I
have grown accustomed to my son and his tattoos. My older sister even recently
had a tattoo placed on her back which caused me to shriek: WHAT’S WRONG WITH
YOU? So, when I mentioned in passing to several family and friends that I
thought about getting a small pink ribbon on my foot for each year of survival
the world seemed like it was ending. This has been an ongoing conversation for a
year and just when I had gotten up enough nerve to make an appointment, my son
said he didn’t think it was a good idea, so I put the issue to rest.
To my
surprise, the next week my son came home from “running errands” and lifted his
pant leg, a pink ribbon tattoo!!! I started to cry and his remark, “mom, c’mon,
your whole foot would have been pink if you got a tattoo for every year you are
going to be alive”. Those words were the most beautiful ones I have heard in a
long time. My son has turned into a walking billboard for breast cancer
awareness!
By Pamela
“What would life be without art?
Science prolongs life. To consist of what – eating, drinking and sleeping? What
is the good of living longer if it is only a matter of satisfying the
requirements that sustain life? All this is nothing without the charm of
art.”
~ Sarah Bernhardt
A Tattoo for you?
The love
between a parent and child is unconditional and without boundaries. It is this
unconditional love that was recently reciprocated that brings me to write this
latest submission for In the Loop. As a mother, I have never understood the art
of tattooing but I know that my son Sean, a 6’3” very handsome Irish 24
year-old, is smitten with them. Now, it is an understatement to say that I am a
conservative person who enjoys a splash of color in my wardrobe when I feel
daring; adding lipstick when I am out of control!
For the last three years I
have grown accustomed to my son and his tattoos. My older sister even recently
had a tattoo placed on her back which caused me to shriek: WHAT’S WRONG WITH
YOU? So, when I mentioned in passing to several family and friends that I
thought about getting a small pink ribbon on my foot for each year of survival
the world seemed like it was ending. This has been an ongoing conversation for a
year and just when I had gotten up enough nerve to make an appointment, my son
said he didn’t think it was a good idea, so I put the issue to rest.
To my
surprise, the next week my son came home from “running errands” and lifted his
pant leg, a pink ribbon tattoo!!! I started to cry and his remark, “mom, c’mon,
your whole foot would have been pink if you got a tattoo for every year you are
going to be alive”. Those words were the most beautiful ones I have heard in a
long time. My son has turned into a walking billboard for breast cancer
awareness!
Wrinkles In Time
Wrinkles In Time
I sit and stare at my hands, at the wrinkles
and
wonder what time has done to me?
My face is tired, my eyes weak, what has
time done to me?
I have no energy, it is suppressed for times that I need
it most.
Energy to be harvested like a garden, stored for winter
use.
I am not happy inside, but on the outside I appear to
shine.
For those who see me from a distance, I look vibrant, young and
free.
To those who know me, I am scarred, worn out and tired.
I am
but a survivor in time, no more, no less.
Pamela K. Embury
I sit and stare at my hands, at the wrinkles
and
wonder what time has done to me?
My face is tired, my eyes weak, what has
time done to me?
I have no energy, it is suppressed for times that I need
it most.
Energy to be harvested like a garden, stored for winter
use.
I am not happy inside, but on the outside I appear to
shine.
For those who see me from a distance, I look vibrant, young and
free.
To those who know me, I am scarred, worn out and tired.
I am
but a survivor in time, no more, no less.
Pamela K. Embury
Silence Is Not Golden
Silence Is Not Golden
The house is silent. Just a hint of time standing
still.
Time waiting for change, time waiting for life.
What should I do
with this moment to myself?
There is always a list, a task needing to be
done.
Shall I take this moment for myself?
Do I deserve this moment for
myself?
Do I know myself?
Do others deserve my silent time?
Should I
always give of my time?
The noise returns slowly, first from
within.
Telling me to move, regain my energy, be loud.
As the loudness
returns, I feel rage.
Rage that demands attention, yet no time to
hear.
The silence was too much.
The energy of noise and confusion is what
I love.
The silence is too hurtful.
Too much time to think, too much time
to cry.
Bring me the noise
Pamela K. Embury
The house is silent. Just a hint of time standing
still.
Time waiting for change, time waiting for life.
What should I do
with this moment to myself?
There is always a list, a task needing to be
done.
Shall I take this moment for myself?
Do I deserve this moment for
myself?
Do I know myself?
Do others deserve my silent time?
Should I
always give of my time?
The noise returns slowly, first from
within.
Telling me to move, regain my energy, be loud.
As the loudness
returns, I feel rage.
Rage that demands attention, yet no time to
hear.
The silence was too much.
The energy of noise and confusion is what
I love.
The silence is too hurtful.
Too much time to think, too much time
to cry.
Bring me the noise
Pamela K. Embury
What Might Have Been
What Might Have Been?
As I sit and wonder
what might have been,
I
look at my life and wonder,
what might have been?
I think about my
broken life and wonder
what might have been?
Had I not been riddled
with cancer,
what might have been?
Had I not been diagnosed,
what
might have been?
There is no use wondering
what might have been,
it
will never be.
Pamela K. Embury
As I sit and wonder
what might have been,
I
look at my life and wonder,
what might have been?
I think about my
broken life and wonder
what might have been?
Had I not been riddled
with cancer,
what might have been?
Had I not been diagnosed,
what
might have been?
There is no use wondering
what might have been,
it
will never be.
Pamela K. Embury
The Day I Wept
The Day I Wept…
They were days full of confusion, the days after
diagnosis.
Children being transported from school to scouts, to
dancing.
Was I really functioning? Really getting by?
The days,
weeks and months are a blur.
I shall only weep while the family is
asleep.
I will allow myself one day.
One to cry, scream and release my
rage.
One day to act my age.
There is no day as a survivor.
Every
day is a battle.
Every day inside I weep, to myself. For my
release.
Pamela K. Embury
They were days full of confusion, the days after
diagnosis.
Children being transported from school to scouts, to
dancing.
Was I really functioning? Really getting by?
The days,
weeks and months are a blur.
I shall only weep while the family is
asleep.
I will allow myself one day.
One to cry, scream and release my
rage.
One day to act my age.
There is no day as a survivor.
Every
day is a battle.
Every day inside I weep, to myself. For my
release.
Pamela K. Embury
Never a Day WIthout Cancer
I recall the day, the moment, the conversation.
I recall the surroundings,
the smells and the noise.
I turned to my husband, diagnosed with me, our
diagnosis.
I recall the shock and disbelief on my children’s faces.
My
older sister saying, “It Can’t Be True”
This is the day we all were
diagnosed.
The day my family became victims and survivors.
I gazed
upon them during my treatments, leaning on them.
Who were they to lean
on?
Cancer is now in our past, present and future.
Will there be a day
that cancer is not part of our life?
No.
Pamela K. Embury
I recall the surroundings,
the smells and the noise.
I turned to my husband, diagnosed with me, our
diagnosis.
I recall the shock and disbelief on my children’s faces.
My
older sister saying, “It Can’t Be True”
This is the day we all were
diagnosed.
The day my family became victims and survivors.
I gazed
upon them during my treatments, leaning on them.
Who were they to lean
on?
Cancer is now in our past, present and future.
Will there be a day
that cancer is not part of our life?
No.
Pamela K. Embury
Recipe For A Cure
Recipe For A Cure…
Dash of Tears
1tsp. Fear
2T. Laughter
1C.
Courage
3 C. Strength
5lbs. Friendships
2 tsp. Wisdom
4 ½ c.
Passion
¾ c. Music
We begin by shedding minimal TEARS for this disease. We
acknowledge the FEAR we hold but quickly add to it the LAUGHTER, COURAGE and
STRENGTH to move forward.
Gather the FRIENDSHIPS that nurture your soul, add
to it their WISDOM and PASSION.
Finally, a touch of MUSIC, you choose the
genre depending on the current mood….
THE RESULTS: A recipe for facing a
disease that should never be faced alone. A woman who gets lifted up by others
is stronger than a woman standing alone.
Through creating and sharing, we are
surviving!
Pamela Embury
Dash of Tears
1tsp. Fear
2T. Laughter
1C.
Courage
3 C. Strength
5lbs. Friendships
2 tsp. Wisdom
4 ½ c.
Passion
¾ c. Music
We begin by shedding minimal TEARS for this disease. We
acknowledge the FEAR we hold but quickly add to it the LAUGHTER, COURAGE and
STRENGTH to move forward.
Gather the FRIENDSHIPS that nurture your soul, add
to it their WISDOM and PASSION.
Finally, a touch of MUSIC, you choose the
genre depending on the current mood….
THE RESULTS: A recipe for facing a
disease that should never be faced alone. A woman who gets lifted up by others
is stronger than a woman standing alone.
Through creating and sharing, we are
surviving!
Pamela Embury
My Journey Through OZ
As you know, we all have a story to tell, each one different yet the same. You
see, we all share a common thread, something that was unwanted, and yet came
anyway to invade our bodies, our lives and our souls. Bonds between breast
cancer survivors are unique, it is that beautiful acceptance that is not
materialistic, just pure.
My name is Pamela and at the age of 37 I knew I had breast cancer without even going to the doctors. You see, I had been fighting to get approval for mammograms and sonograms since I
was 35 but because I had no family history, and was so young, they rejected my
multiple requests. Finally, after two years, I was diagnosed through
bilateral sonogram. I KNEW IT! To the day of my bilateral mastectomies in 2008,
my mammograms were all normal. I was that small percentage with dense breasts
where mammograms would not help. I was diagnosed with left breast invasive ductal carcinoma in 2 of 3 masses with DCIS in the third. My nodes were negative. My ER/PR status were 99% each and my Her2neu was initially reported as negative, however, a year later the copy I received
stated positive, and thus I missed out on an incredible drug herceptin, which
might have prevented my recurrence.
As everyone can tell you, they do not have time for
breast cancer in their lives. I was a single mom to two teenagers, working a
full time and two part time jobs, planning my wedding and completing my
Master’s Degree. This was not wanted in my overloaded schedule, yet here it
was, and I had to stop as my life was now overflowing.
I underwent lumpectomy in 2002 along with chemotherapy (CMF) and 8 cycles of radiation. After completion of treatment, I did have a prophylactic oopharectomy on the left
side which after pathology, proved it was cancerous. I had earlier undergone a hysterectomy at age 24 for dysfunctional uterine bleeding and had an ovary removed for necrosis.
I was diagnosed with a recurrence at 5 years and 3 weeks from my initial diagnosis. I opted for bilateral mastectomy and waited on reconstruction. I was not sure I needed, wanted
or trusted my breasts anymore until one day at work a superior said to me, “Pamela,
you look like a little girl without your breasts”!
I have struggled with those words for years now because I was happy with my appearance, my
choices and my survival. After that I was angry and found out that society is
that unforgiving. So, I played the game and began the process of
reconstruction. One year later, the expanders would be taken out and implants
placed in. The funny thing is the shoot for this project was the last weekend
with my new breasts. They were only in for 6 weeks. I had a latex allergy so
they had to come out that following week on Monday. It was at this moment,
on a Friday that I was painted for the Breast Cancer Awareness Body Painting Project.
Words cannot express the liberating, beautiful emotions that came pouring out of me since that day. I was treated as a woman, a friend, a sister and have a new sense of self. Wearing my body make-up out to lunch and back to the hotel was energizing but what got to me more was entering the pool and having the make-up and my breast cancer pain and anguish literally be washed away as I stepped out of the pool...I left my make-up and my pain behind.
I am awaiting another surgery to remove these implants and once again, place the permanent implants in on May 7, 2011. Life is indeed a journey that we walk everyday.
I am proud to say that this chapter closes with my beautifully painted Journey picture that you see here. I am honored to have participated in this project. You see, my happy ending was just over that rainbow, and my dreams for survival have come true.
For more information, you can email me or check out any of the links below...
facebook link to the project: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=611001239#!/pages/Breast-Cancer-Awareness-Body-Painting-Project-BCABPP/187943537902540
Basic Information About The Photographer: Michael D. ColaneroDigital Artist / Photographer / Gallery Owner -Gallery
MySpace page: http://www.MySpace.com/UNCOMMONgallery
http://www.UNCOMMONstock.nethttp://www.ModelMayhem.com/UNCOMMONstockhttp://www.OneModelPlace.com/mdchttp://profiles.retrokitten.com/6261http://www.flickr.com/people/uncommonstockhttp://www.MySpace.com/UNCOMMONgallery
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=54903765930
http://www.cafepress.com/BCABPP
http://www.twitter.com/BCABPP
http://www.youtube.com/BCABPP
The collection of images is also currently on display at:
UNCOMMON Gallery
2713 East Commercial Blvd.
Fort Lauderdale, FL 33308
see, we all share a common thread, something that was unwanted, and yet came
anyway to invade our bodies, our lives and our souls. Bonds between breast
cancer survivors are unique, it is that beautiful acceptance that is not
materialistic, just pure.
My name is Pamela and at the age of 37 I knew I had breast cancer without even going to the doctors. You see, I had been fighting to get approval for mammograms and sonograms since I
was 35 but because I had no family history, and was so young, they rejected my
multiple requests. Finally, after two years, I was diagnosed through
bilateral sonogram. I KNEW IT! To the day of my bilateral mastectomies in 2008,
my mammograms were all normal. I was that small percentage with dense breasts
where mammograms would not help. I was diagnosed with left breast invasive ductal carcinoma in 2 of 3 masses with DCIS in the third. My nodes were negative. My ER/PR status were 99% each and my Her2neu was initially reported as negative, however, a year later the copy I received
stated positive, and thus I missed out on an incredible drug herceptin, which
might have prevented my recurrence.
As everyone can tell you, they do not have time for
breast cancer in their lives. I was a single mom to two teenagers, working a
full time and two part time jobs, planning my wedding and completing my
Master’s Degree. This was not wanted in my overloaded schedule, yet here it
was, and I had to stop as my life was now overflowing.
I underwent lumpectomy in 2002 along with chemotherapy (CMF) and 8 cycles of radiation. After completion of treatment, I did have a prophylactic oopharectomy on the left
side which after pathology, proved it was cancerous. I had earlier undergone a hysterectomy at age 24 for dysfunctional uterine bleeding and had an ovary removed for necrosis.
I was diagnosed with a recurrence at 5 years and 3 weeks from my initial diagnosis. I opted for bilateral mastectomy and waited on reconstruction. I was not sure I needed, wanted
or trusted my breasts anymore until one day at work a superior said to me, “Pamela,
you look like a little girl without your breasts”!
I have struggled with those words for years now because I was happy with my appearance, my
choices and my survival. After that I was angry and found out that society is
that unforgiving. So, I played the game and began the process of
reconstruction. One year later, the expanders would be taken out and implants
placed in. The funny thing is the shoot for this project was the last weekend
with my new breasts. They were only in for 6 weeks. I had a latex allergy so
they had to come out that following week on Monday. It was at this moment,
on a Friday that I was painted for the Breast Cancer Awareness Body Painting Project.
Words cannot express the liberating, beautiful emotions that came pouring out of me since that day. I was treated as a woman, a friend, a sister and have a new sense of self. Wearing my body make-up out to lunch and back to the hotel was energizing but what got to me more was entering the pool and having the make-up and my breast cancer pain and anguish literally be washed away as I stepped out of the pool...I left my make-up and my pain behind.
I am awaiting another surgery to remove these implants and once again, place the permanent implants in on May 7, 2011. Life is indeed a journey that we walk everyday.
I am proud to say that this chapter closes with my beautifully painted Journey picture that you see here. I am honored to have participated in this project. You see, my happy ending was just over that rainbow, and my dreams for survival have come true.
For more information, you can email me or check out any of the links below...
facebook link to the project: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=611001239#!/pages/Breast-Cancer-Awareness-Body-Painting-Project-BCABPP/187943537902540
Basic Information About The Photographer: Michael D. ColaneroDigital Artist / Photographer / Gallery Owner -Gallery
MySpace page: http://www.MySpace.com/UNCOMMONgallery
http://www.UNCOMMONstock.nethttp://www.ModelMayhem.com/UNCOMMONstockhttp://www.OneModelPlace.com/mdchttp://profiles.retrokitten.com/6261http://www.flickr.com/people/uncommonstockhttp://www.MySpace.com/UNCOMMONgallery
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=54903765930
http://www.cafepress.com/BCABPP
http://www.twitter.com/BCABPP
http://www.youtube.com/BCABPP
UNCOMMON Gallery
2713 East Commercial Blvd.
Fort Lauderdale, FL 33308
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