THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, June 23, 1996 TAG: 9606210257
SECTION: CHESAPEAKE CLIPPER PAGE: 02 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: RANDOM RAMBLES
SOURCE: TONY STEIN
LENGTH: 81 lines
Glenda Rose remembers the day, June 23, 1991, very well. She has good reason to. That was a day that changed her life.
She was getting ready for bed at her Great Bridge home. She was following her regular ritual of a breast self-exam - doubly important for her because her mother died of breast cancer. On that night in 1991, Rose found a suspicious lump in her right breast.
The diagnosis was cancer. The surgical treatment was a modified mastectomy. That's removal of the breast and lymph nodes. The follow-up was chemotherapy and a breast reconstruction.
In September, Rose will be a 5-year cancer survivor. And she's a survivor with a message, that breast cancer is an enemy that can often be beaten with caution and care and a don't-quit attitude. She spreads the word whenever and however she can, including a breast cancer support group she founded in 1992. About 20 women meet on the first Monday of the month at Chesapeake General Hospital.
Rose is a vivacious red-head with a license plate that says ``29 & HOLDG.'' A Pennsylvanian, she came here in 1970 with her husband, Thomas, who was in the Navy.
She remembers how tense she was on the day that she had her surgery. And she remembers a coincidence that somehow seems more than a coincidence. ``My mother's name was Cora. Just before the operation, a very comforting nurse came to stay with me. Her name was Cora, just like my mother. So, in a way, my mother was with me right through the surgery.''
After the surgery came the chemotherapy. That's when Rose says she grabbed hold of an upbeat attitude and wrapped her personality around it. Like when she drove to and from the hospital for the chemotherapy treatments.
``Coming and going, I put in a tape of James Brown singing `I Feel Good.' Even if I felt green, I put the tape in. I really blasted it.
``And it's important to find something every day to laugh it. My husband, who's been so supportive, got me one of those smiley-face balloons and every day he would put it in a different place. One day I opened a closet door and it popped out at me.
``Attitude is part of the cure. I said to myself, `I'm not going to die. I've got too much to do.' And I got a lot of strength from my relationship with the Lord.''
There was, she admits, one time when the attitude wavered. It was last December when a routine check-up showed a suspicious area on her hip. It turned out to be non-malignant, and Rose says the scare confirmed her belief in a positive attitude. ``Go on, enjoy life,'' Rose says. ``Don't let the fear of a recurrence outweigh the joy of everyday life.''
Fear is the strongest emotion newcomers bring to the cancer support group, Rose says. A fear that screams, ``I'm gonna die!'' Then they meet Rose and the other survivors and they know that they can make it, too.
Another fear, Rose says, kicks in after the surgery. It's an inner voice that says, ``I'll never be the same.''
``Not so,'' says Rose, and she puts a twist on her answer. ``I'm glad I'm not the same,'' she says. ``I'm a better person. I've grown. I used to be quiet and shy. Now I'm more outgoing.
``I'm in charge of my destiny, and I know where I'm going. I've got a mission to educate the public about breast cancer and about how to take care of themselves.''
Apparently she's doing a good job. Chris Green, area director for the American Cancer Society, calls her ``probably our best volunteer in the Chesapeake area.'' Rose is making a very big impact in breast cancer detection, Green says.
No question that Rose is dedicated to her cause. There's real intensity in her voice as she tells you that one in eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer. ``That's an epidemic,'' she says.
And though a family history of breast cancer should be a warning sign, the absence of a history doesn't mean you drop your guard. ``Fifteen percent of breast cancer patients show a family history,'' Rose says. ``That means 85 percent do not.''
The only way to live with breast cancer is early detection, Rose declares. That means mammograms and self-examinations like the one that found the lump in her breast. Information and literature is available from the cancer society office at 853-6638.
``You have to take responsibility for your well-being,'' Rose says. The urgency and decisiveness in her tone makes you wonder that she was ever a self-described shy and quiet woman. Ask her about it and she laughs. ``I've surprised myself,'' she says, ``but I'm proud of what I'm doing and proud of the people who are helping me do it.'' by CNB