by Joan Lunden
Kristina W.
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As a show of support, GMA posted #TEAMJOAN on its Facebook and Twitter pages.
As the day progressed, Lindsay checked my Facebook and Twitter pages and found an avalanche of well wishes, along with all sorts of tips and advice on how to deal with breast cancer and chemo. In fact, Lindsay told me I was trending on Twitter for most of the day. I can’t say that I totally understood what that meant at the time, but she told me it was a good thing. Here are just some of the amazing tweets I received from friends and colleagues that day:
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Katie Couric_@katiecouric Dear@JoanLunden, thinking about you and sending positive thoughts and love your way. xoxo
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Leeza Gibbons @LeezaGibbons @JoanLunden@gma @RobinRoberts Family of Strength and Support! Joan we love you and bless you on this journey. You ARE a #Warrior & #Winner
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Susan G. Komen @SusanGKomen Lots of love to @JoanLunden former GMA co-host who revealed this am that she is battling BC. Truly inspirational.
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Stand Up To Cancer @SU2C We applaud @JoanLunden for her courage, her openness, and the inspiration she provides us all. Joan, we stand with you in this battle.
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LIVESTRONG @livestrong @GMA@JoanLunden @RobinRoberts sending our best wishes and strength to you Joan. If we can help in any way, don’t hesitate to reach out.
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DeborahNorville @DeborahNorville Just sent a long note to @JoanLunden wishing her a speedy recovery as she fights #breastcancer. Was just w/her.
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Tony Perkins @TonyPerkinsFOX5 Thoughts and prayers to @JoanLunden @GMA on her battle with breast cancer. With your amazing inner strength, I know you will beat this.
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Cynthia McFadden @CynthiaMcFadden @JoanLunden sending all love and support!
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Nancy O’Dell @NancyODell Journalist Joan Lunden announced today that she has been diagnosed with breast cancer. Lunden hosted Good Morning America from 1980–1997.
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Kathie Lee Gifford @KathieLGifford_ @JoanLunden sending you my love and prayers as you deal with this latest challenge. God bless you and the family.
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Barbara Walters Joan dear, you are in my thoughts. I wish you well. You are a wonderful woman. I send you a hug of love. Barbara
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I was floored by the overwhelming response and warm reaction of the GMA viewers. I had no idea there would be that kind of outreach and outpouring of love, support, and kindness in the hours, days, weeks, and months that followed the broadcast. None whatsoever.
To be very candid, I felt amazing relief, too. I hadn’t recognized that although I had been off the air for years, there were so many people out there who cared enough to send me words of strength and love. It was an indescribable, wonderful feeling that took my breath away.
I knew in my heart of hearts that if this was the response from the announcement on Good Morning America, there was a good chance that I could help raise awareness about early detection; start important conversations; and help make a difference. And if that was the case, going public had definitely been worth it. I’d had no idea how many lives my story would touch. There was a need for a leader in this discussion. Hopefully, I could become a source of strength and a role model for other women to get checked, to get treated, and to survive breast cancer with grace and dignity.
What I immediately understood was that cancer did not need to define me, but how I lived with cancer and fought my cancer certainly could.
This was a real revelation and, as Oprah would say, an “aha” moment for me. It was also the exact moment when my whole attitude began to change and, without a doubt, strengthen. I had a rare opportunity to use my cancer as a platform to help others. In the process, I might help save lives.
As a result of this understanding, I began writing my “Breast Cancer Journey” blog. My hope was that in sharing my journey, I could help other women approach and manage theirs. I also thought writing might turn out to be a therapeutic outlet for me.
After I shared my first blog post, I had no idea what kind of reaction I would get.
Would anyone read it?
Did anyone care?
Would I get advice or questions from other women?
Would I be able to offer advice or lend a hand to help other women?
The responses started coming in, and once again, I was stunned. The reaction was beyond my wildest expectations. It was exciting to be corresponding with others sharing the same experiences, or those who had been there, done that. While I didn’t have all of the answers, my blog created an instant forum for people to talk and share. And sometimes that’s enough to get the conversation started.
Here is just one of the comments I received in the days after I shared my initial blog post:
Jerri Smith has left a new comment on your post “I Have Breast Cancer”
Joan, in May of 2006, I was diagnosed with Stage III breast cancer—not one but two lumps in my left breast (I’ve always been an overachiever). HA! After two surgeries, six months of chemo, thirty-three radiation treatments, and an entire year of Herceptin infusions, I’m still here—a loud and proud survivor. You can beat this—my mantra was “It’s only cancer.” Don’t give it any power, and you will win. Cancer isn’t for sissies, and you’ll have good days and bad days in the upcoming months, that’s for sure. But in the end, it’s your attitude that will get you through. Be tough and find your inner strength. Also, maintain your sense of humor. BTW, in 2008, I was diagnosed with endometrial cancer. Another surgery, and again I’m cancer-free. Hang tough—you can do this!
Getting those types of letters almost made me feel good about the whole thing.
Almost.
I also got a surprise message that Jim Kelly, the retired Buffalo Bills quarterback, was trying to reach me. When I told my husband that Jim Kelly had called, I think he was a little jealous! He said, “Do you mean the Jim Kelly, former Buffalo Bills quarterback and Hall of Famer and one of the greatest football players ever to play the game? He’s one of the greatest athletes who ever lived!”
“Yeah, that’s the one,” I said.
Of course, I had no idea.
Before calling him back, I did a little research so I wouldn’t be totally out of the know when we spoke. I found an article on ESPN.com that read: Jim Kelly was declared cancer-free Thursday after biopsies came back negative.
Kelly had completed chemotherapy and radiation treatments for cancer in his jaw. There was a picture of him as he left the hospital, with friends and family and teammates all lined up to give him a high five!
The article went on to say:
That scene is as indelible in Kelly’s mind as any touchdown pass he ever threw, any heroic last-minute game-winning drive he engineered. It is a moment that will stay with him for the rest of what he hopes is a lengthy life.
Kelly said he just wasn’t expecting it, and that he felt overwhelming joy and a spiritual uplift from that act of kindness. “It was a surprise. It was my last radiation treatment, so I figured go out and get in my car and go home, and I walk out there and they set me up. That was a point that made me feel that people really do care. I mean, I knew that they did, but to have some of those people come out, and not know they would be there, it was nice.”
With that, I gave Jim a call, still uncertain why he was trying to reach me. Maybe he had started a charity that he wanted me to work on? As it turned out, Jim didn’t want anything from me. He shared that he’d really struggled with going public about his cancer story at first because he was such a private person. He didn’t want to feel like he’d let people down.
He said he felt like he had always been a strong athlete for people to look up to and admire, and he’d worried about what they would think. His wife had tried to tell him that he would be making a difference and could inspire people by sharing his story.
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Jim said that he had been overwhelmed by the joy of all those who reached out to him and sent their well wishes. It seemed like everywhere he went, people stopped to ask how he was doing. Ever since I’d gone public, people not only wanted to ask how he was doing, they immediately started talking to him about how “Joan Lunden’s going public is helping so many other women.”
Hearing that over and over again helped Jim understand that there are those of us who have a special opportunity to make others feel better during a difficult journey. He said that after months of struggling, he finally “got it.”
By sharing his story, he had started to see the significance of his own positive impact.
The reason for his call?
He simply wanted to thank me for helping him understand that going public meant something to others.
“Well, Jim, in helping others, we often help ourselves,” I said.
I hung up the phone and smiled.
During our call, Jim had confirmed something important for me, too. Not only could sharing my story help others, it could inspire them, too.
CHAPTER 10
Going Rogue—Make Me G.I. Joan
I’ve always thought of myself as being a warrior. When you actually have a battle, it’s better than when you don’t know who to fight.
CARLY SIMON
Singer/songwriter, diagnosed with breast cancer in 1997
My day started out like any other. I had my usual checklist of errands and some personal appointments to get done before heading back up to join Jeff in Maine for the rest of the summer. This was going to be kind of a “beauty day” for me.
I’d say I earned one!
But I also awoke feeling as though I needed to kick myself into warrior overdrive. The emails, tweets, and Facebook posts from everyone had motivated me to fight the good fight against my disease harder, stronger, and fiercer than ever.
What better way to shift into warrior mode than meeting my best friend, Elise Silvestri, for a manicure and pedicure! I first met Elise when she was my intern in 1979. I was a cub reporter at GMA, and she was still in college. When I became the cohost of GMA in 1980, Elise became my assistant. The two of us were stepping into the world of big-time national television at the same time, not knowing anything about how to navigate it. I guess you could say we grew up together in many ways.
It was Elise’s first job out of school, and I was starting my job as cohost with a brand-new baby, my oldest daughter, Jamie, eight weeks old. Elise and I had some amazing years together, especially during my early days at Good Morning America, and have remained best friends to this day.
Elise was concerned to hear about my cancer, and we had made plans to meet and catch up on everything that had happened since my diagnosis and going public. While we were being treated to hot-rock leg massage as part of our “warrior mode” pedicure, I leaned over and whispered to Elise that I was wearing one of my new wigs. “What do you think?” I asked with a smile.
She was stunned that it was so natural-looking!
Hey, if my best friend hadn’t noticed, no one would!
Okay, so J.T. was right.
I also told her that I was likely to be losing my own hair sometime around the Fourth of July weekend, when I was expecting a houseful of guests for the holiday. It scared me to think that chunks of my hair might come loose or fall out while I was serving lunch, or worse—right in the middle of a conversation. That’s when I told her that I was seriously considering shaving my head . . . later that day.
I mentioned that Robin Roberts had recommended getting in front of the hair loss by shaving it off before it fell out. “That process,” Robin said, “can be depressing and embarrassing.”
I felt a strong need to take control of it and do it on my terms. I had a spray tan scheduled for that afternoon. I said I was thinking of making a bold bald choice.
I mean, come on.
If you’re going to be bald, at least look healthy and tan from head to toe!
Am I right?
I had just taken care of my toes at the nail salon, so what about my soon-to-be-bald head?
I figured the only thing worse than a bald head was a pale pink bald head.
I was doing my best to find the humor in this otherwise awkward situation. I wasn’t sure whether Elise was worried or amused.
I asked her what she thought about the idea of me just walking into the beauty salon I normally went to for my spray tan and asking one of the hairdressers there to shave my head. Although I’d never had my hair done there, did it really matter? It wasn’t like they could screw up and give me a bad shave, right?
Bald is bald, isn’t it? It’s not like getting a bad haircut!
Besides, I liked the spontaneity of it.
I also liked the anonymity of it. While I had spray tanned there many times, I had never gone to a hairdresser in that salon. I’d always walked in the door, passed by the hair and nail salon, and walked upstairs to the day spa for my private tanning sessions. I had noticed the hairstylists on the main floor but never had an occasion for a conversation. I’d always slithered in and out as invisibly as possible, since my appointment involved getting completely naked and standing before a woman who sprayed my body with tanning solution. It was a little embarrassing, so I came and left almost as though, in my head, I hadn’t actually been there. Now, all of a sudden, I was going to walk in and brazenly tell the women at the front desk that I wanted to shave my head. I knew it could be perceived as a pretty bizarre moment—totally out of character, not that these women would even know that about me. But one could make the leap this wasn’t a typical request for any woman walking into that salon, especially in conservative Greenwich, Connecticut.
I had always been allowed to feel kind of anonymous there. Okay, so perhaps they knew who I was, but we all sort of pretended they didn’t. Or at least that’s how they made me feel, which I always appreciated. And that was why I chose to do it there. I never would have walked into my regular hair salon down the street and asked them to shave my head, ever!
For reasons I can’t quite explain, I needed to feel anonymous to pull it off; even then, I didn’t know if I would have the nerve to go through with it until the very end.
Elise was more than a little shocked when she heard my plan. I’m not sure she realized I was being serious. Now, having known me as long as she has, she should’ve known I was being serious—very serious. And yet at the time, I think she figured it was just talk. The look on her face was priceless.
When Elise and I finished at the nail salon, we walked across the bustling street in my hometown to a wonderful little French restaurant called Méli-Mélo. We celebrated “life before cancer treatment began” by ordering two croque monsieurs, which are fancy French grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. It felt decadent and like my last hurrah of bad eating.
Afterward we walked a block to Soul Cycle, a local spinning studio (which neither of us had ever been to, by the way . . .), because someone had told me they sold bandanas that boldly read “Warrior” across the top. We found several dark gray ones with bright yellow block letters.
I bought every single one.
Does it get any better than this for my impending journey? I thought.
To me, it was just one more statement and a sign from the universe of empowerment!
And since today was all about getting into warrior mode, I was one step closer to mission accomplished!
I was doing my best to keep my life as normal as I could over the coming months. I didn’t want to let cancer steal away the happy times I had planned, like the baby shower I was giving for Lindsay at my home in a month. I never even considered canceling her party when I got my diagnosis. Why would I? I only became more determined to stick with my party plans—and celebrate the joy in my life rather than wallowing in the sorrow. I had so much to look forward to. My Lindsay was having a baby. I was going to be a grandmother. Not that I was going to be called Grandma—uh, no. That wasn’t going to work
for me.
I am all about “sixty is the new forty,” so I wasn’t ready to wear a title that denoted gray hair. “Jo Jo” would do just fine, thank you very much!
Every time I looked at expectant Lindsay, I saw myself in her at the same age. Except that in the 1980s, when I had all three of my older girls, maternity clothes were just plain dorky-looking. No, really. When I look back at pregnancy pictures of myself, I can’t believe what I had to wear on national television every day: stiff cotton A-line dresses with little blouses underneath and huge muu-muu-type dresses that made me look three times bigger than I was.
Not to mention the television cameras add ten pounds!
Today pregnant women have it so good. They get to wear tight, sexy, clingy dresses that proudly show off their baby bump. They can remain high-fashion right down to the high heels to match their slinky dresses. Believe me, I never looked as cool or chic as Lindsay: She looked incredibly beautiful, pregnant. But every time I looked at her, she brought back fond memories of me being pregnant and being on Good Morning America. I took all three of my older girls to work with me when they were little babies because I was breast-feeding. I would scoop them out of the crib, trying not to wake them as I changed their diapers at four A.M. and left the house in the darkness of night. The GMA staff was used to seeing the babies in my dressing room and always joked that during the time when I was breast-feeding, I would begin the show each morning as Joan Lunden and end the show as Dolly Parton.