daniela grömke

daniela grömke  photo: maeshelle west-davies

daniela grömke
photo: maeshelle west-davies

An aged chemistry teacher receives a cancer diagnosis and begins to cook Crystal Meth, builds up a drug empire and washes his money in an automatic car wash. Laura Linney wears almost exclusively a green-violetly patterned mini terry toweling coat in the first episodes. According to her diagnosis she decides not to purchase a new couch while Felicity Huffmans Lynette tries to conceal the wig she wears after her chemotherapy.

Cancer isn’t a taboo any more in US-American TV series.

You can watch them every day. But what about in real life?

My Aunt had tumors in her breast.

Not me, I had only a knot which proved to be good-natured.

I am not afraid of cancer. The issue doesn’t affect me.

I am watching it on the couch with a bag of salty sunflower seeds.

I am young and efficient.

However, Cancer is not just something to entertain me with.

It’s not a simple reason for character development in a tv show.
Its a disease everybody should be aware of.

For this I back the cause to invite more women to deal with that topic and therefore I support Haus Leben e.V. project with my artwork.

madeleine heublein

Der Tod hat viele Gesichter. Welches uns begegnet und warum ist nicht nur vom Zufall abhängig.
Es liegt immer auch in unserer Hand. Dies zu verstehen und so sich selbst schätzend und hütend zu leben, fällt schwer. Leichter ist es, von einem Tag zum nächsten und nicht darüber hinaus zu schauen. Es bleibt der Kunst vorbehalten, uns nicht nur in unserer Schwäche zu zeigen, sondern auch, dass der weite Blick vom Anfang bis zum Ende lohnt.

madeleine heublein
photo: maeshelle west-davies

yule franke

My aunt had cancer. She thought that it was because of the one and only cigarette she had ever smoked, but I don’t think that was the reason. For me, its all about being good to yourself and being able to accept change until you grow to love it.

photo: maeshelle west-davies

English proofreading maeshelle west-davies

lily koto olive

The word “cancer” still hangs heavily over my head, after an experience I had battling an unusually rare pancreatic cancer. The word terrifies me, every time I see it, hear it or think of it. Absolutely chilling. One day you are fine, the next you aren’t, and the future seems uncertain. One day I was a graduate student, the next a cancer patient. My personal experience was extremely draining, from fighting with health insurance companies in the US to get coverage for the procedure, to flying around getting alternate medical opinions…One very complicated surgery later, a few more procedures and a month in the hospital recovering, and I was able to leave. The months that followed consisted of me learning to eat again, and building up my strength to walk and regain motion and energy.

Staring potential death in the face and confronting ones mortality is never something anyone wants to consider; we all think it will never happen to us. Maybe one day when we are old, but never until then. The fact is that it can and does happen unexpectedly to people of all ages. Awareness, knowledge and medical research is essential. Projects like Pink Shoe Day are essential in bringing this awareness to the public, and creating spaces for survivors and affected families to convene. As someone who has faced and overcome cancer, I can say support systems, discussions, and helping to spread awareness are key for long term recovery and also in aiding those who are currently diagnosed and battling themselves.

“Krebs” – das Wort schwebt noch immer schwer über meinen Kopf. Es begleitet mich seit meinem Kampf gegen eine ungewöhnlich seltene Form des Bauchspeicheldrüsenkrebses. Das Wort erschreckt mich jedes Mal, wenn ich es sehe, es höre oder auch nur daran denke. Ein grauenhaftes Gefühl – entsetzlich und niederschmetternd. An einem Tag geht es Dir gut, am nächsten extrem schlecht und die Zukunft ist ungewiss. Es ändert sich einfach alles! Gestern war ich noch Student, heute Krebspatient. Meine persönlichen Erfahrungen waren äußerst kräftezehrend – von der Auseinandersetzung mit den Krankenkassen in den USA, zur Klärung der Kostenübernahme für die Behandlungen, bis hin zum Herumfliegen, um alternative, medizinische Meinungen einzuholen… Nach einer sehr komplizierten Operation, zahlreichen Behandlungen und einem Monat Krankenhausaufenthalt konnte ich glücklicherweise nach Hause. In den folgenden Monaten lernte ich wieder zu essen, baute Kraft auf, um laufen zu können und gewann Bewegung und Energie zurück.

Dem Tod in die Augen zu schauen und mit der eigenen Sterblichkeit konfrontiert zu sein, ist nichts, womit man sich gern auseinandersetzt. Wir alle denken: das passiert uns nicht. Vielleicht irgendwann, wenn wir alt sind, aber nicht früher. Doch Tatsache ist: es kann passieren und es passiert stets völlig unerwartet, ganz gleich, wie alt man ist. Daher sind Bewusstsein, Wissen und medizinische Forschung wichtig und absolut unerlässlich. Und genau das macht Projekte wie „Pink Shoe Day“ so essentiell. Sie wecken öffentliches Bewusstsein und schaffen Orte für Begegnungen – für Überlebende und betroffene Familien. Als jemand, der selbst mit Krebs konfrontiert war und diesen besiegt hat, weiß ich: Unterstützungsprogramme, Gespräche sowie dabei zu helfen, Bewusstsein zu schaffen, sind nicht nur wichtige Erfolgsfaktoren, um sich langfristig und nachhaltig von der Krankheit zu erholen, sie sind auch ein entscheidender Schlüssel für alle, die momentan mit Krebs kämpfen.

lily koto olive
photo: maeshelle west-davies

german translation care of trans-lingo

candace goodrich

My first memories are faded wisps, a gray suit, the bells at the hem of my favorite dress, 25cent bubble gum, a man in a doorway, my cousin crying. The funeral of my grandfather Ralph Amalfitano is all that I know of him. He was not often spoke of, moreso now that my grandmother is coming closer to her passage. I am now around the same age as my mother was when she lost her father to cancer.
“My dad was diagnosed with metastatic lung cancer that went to his bones on Nov 20, 1981. I went with my parents to hear the diagnosis, but as soon as the doctor showed us the x-ray I knew it was a death sentence. My dad’s last 6 months of life were agony. My mom became so run down from taking care of him that she became extremely anemic and needed to be rushed to the doctor. I almost lost both my parents because my dad smoked in hiding in the garage. I found twenty, one gallon paint cans full of cigarette butts in his hiding place.
My dad was so thin that last Christmas but he still glowed when he saw Candace and Jason his grandchildren. I flew into NYC every weekend the last 4 weeks of his life. He spoke to me frankly about his regrets and how much he loved our mom and felt he didn’t do right by her. In the last week I asked the doctors to stop the blood transfusions. Imagine having to make that decision. I knew it would end his pain and his life. He died on June 12, 1982. I think about what could have been. What a loss, that my kids grew up without their grandpa. ” quoted from Rita Amalfitano, daughter of Aurora and Ralph Amalfitano, mother to Jason and Candace Amalfitano Goodrich

candace goodrich
photo: maeshelle west-davies

christina nielsen-marsh

There are two things about my mother which are relevant. She has a weak immune system. She loves to garden. In fact, I have inherited my love of nature and landscape from both my parents. What else I may have inherited only time will tell.

Gardening and being outdoors has taken its toll over the years and despite sun hats and sun cream my mother has endured several episodes of basal-cell carcinoma, a less-aggressive form of skin cancer, which have been removed from her face. Leaving tiny scars, these marks, like the other lines we develop through life, tell their own story about who my mother is and what she loves.

In 2009, following an MRI scan after losing weight, my mother was diagnosed with suspected kidney cancer and given a prognoses of only 3 months to live. Surgical removal of the ‘tumour’ and a biopsy followed. The results were nothing short of miraculous. The ‘tumour and its satellites’ turned out to be rogue muscle tissue, and a red-faced doctor ‘gave’ my mother back her future.

After some weeks recuperation she returned to her beloved garden.

As the years have passed and I have lost more school-friends to breast cancer before their 40th birthdays, I realise exactly how lucky our family has so far been. Some things are beyond our control. But routine screening and check-ups for breast, cervical and skin cancer have been part of my life since I was 32.

Es gibt zwei Dinge über meine Mutter zu wissen, die relevant sind. Sie hat ein schwaches Immunsystem. Und sie liebt Gartenarbeit. Genaugenommen habe ich meine Liebe zur Natur und Landschaft von meinen Eltern geerbt. Was ich sonst noch geerbt habe, wird die Zeit zeigen.

Die Gartenarbeit im Freien forderte im Laufe der Jahre ihren Tribut, und trotz Sonnenhüte und Sonnencreme bekam meine Mutter mehrere Male ein Basal-Zell-Karzinom, eine weniger aggressive Form von Hautkrebs, die von ihrem Gesicht entfernt wurden. Die winzigen Narben, die danach blieben, erzählen genau wie all die anderen Linien, die wir im Laufe unseres Lebens erhalten, ihre eigene Geschichte, wer meine Mutter ist und was sie liebt.

Im Jahr 2009, nach einer MRT-Untersuchung wegen akuten Gewichtsverlustes, wurde meine Mutter mit einem Verdacht auf Nierenkrebs diagnostiziert und bekam die Prognose, nur noch 3 Monate zu leben. Eine  chirurgische Entfernung des ‘Tumors’ und eine Biopsie folgten. Die Ergebnisse waren nichts weniger als ein Wunder. Der ‘Tumor und seine Satelliten’ stellte sich als abnormales Muskelgewebe heraus, und eine verlegener Arzt ‘gab’ meine Mutter ihre Zukunft zurück.

Nach einigen Wochen Erholung kehrte sie zu ihrem geliebten Garten zurück.

Während die Jahre vergehen und ich mehrere Schulfreunde an Brustkrebs vor ihrem 40. Geburtstag verlor, merke ich genau wie glücklich unsere Familie bisher ist. Einige Dinge liegen außerhalb unserer Kontrolle. Aber Routine-Screening und Check-ups für Brust-, Gebärmutterhals-und Hautkrebs sind ein Teil meines Lebens, seit ich 32 wurde.

christina nielsen-marsh
photo: maeshelle west-davies

german text proofread by trans-lingo

maeshelle west-davies

I remember the call. I was at a big benefit party that I’d help organise. My then husband called and said my mother was in the hospital and that I needed to go to Atlanta right away. The next day I drove the six hours. I didn’t know what to expect. The doctor said it was breast cancer and gave her three weeks to live. I took care of her the next 10 months. This was a life changing experience on numerous levels. Of course I learned a lot about cancer, but the most valuable lessons I learned were about people and their ability to cope. My mother remained upbeat and lovely throughout. People that had been dear friends couldn’t bear it and disappeared. Others seemed to appear from nowhere and rallied around us. I know I would never have made it through had I not had a support network. I also know that I can’t judge those who could not be there for us. Some people are just not capable of such things.
When I was asked to participate in Pink Shoe Day I was honored. The fight against breast cancer is a cause that I can personally identify with. It is the only cancer that is on the rise. Not only is Hausleben there to provide a much needed support network for patients and their families, but they are very active in prevention. This and early detection are effective weapons…..if we choose to arm ourselves.

maeshelle west-davies

photo: charlotte eifler