Had I Known

by Joan Lunden

  The health advocate in me was incredibly excited by the impact the cover could have, creating positive discussions about breast cancer. However, the personal and vain side of me felt totally scared, insecure, and vulnerable.

  Would going bald on the cover of People really give a voice to tens of thousands of women struggling with cancer?

  Oh, man—I hoped so.

  I just wanted to fight this fight against cancer and survive; I didn’t want to be embroiled in any controversy over my battle to live. I had already endured my first round of chemo and its crummy side effects for eleven weeks, having to look in the mirror every day and see myself bald. How would I feel with my bald head on the cover of a magazine for the whole world to see? Very few people had ever seen me bald. Allowing the entire world to see me bald was so intimate and vulnerable, making it one of the scariest things I could think of at that moment—scarier than going through my next round of chemo.

  For real!

  How would I do this?

  Should I do this?

  Was I brave enough to do this?

  Gee whiz, I wasn’t sure.

  It became another huge decision as I made my way down this uncharted path.

  I discussed it openly and frankly with my grown daughters, who thought it was mostly a good move for me—though they were clear that they would stand by whatever decision I made. Looking back, I think there was some hesitation, especially from Lindsay, who was being hyper-protective of me. She told me more than once that it was okay to nix the idea, because she could see how much angst I was feeling over it. The reality was, I didn’t have to do it.

  So then why was I vacillating?

  I couldn’t say yes, but I couldn’t say no, either.

  That wasn’t my usual MO. Things are usually very black or white for me.

  Living in the gray was taking some getting used to.

  My husband knows me well, so he completely understood my dilemma of wanting to help others while feeling embarrassed to let everyone see me bald. He felt that doing the cover bald had incredible potential, but like my daughters, he worried about the stress the decision was creating for me. If I was feeling this much pressure now, what would it be like when the magazine hit the stands?

  That was definitely food for thought!

  I had a lot of discussions about the cover over the next several days. It seemed like everyone had an opinion. No single point of view felt right or wrong. I received lots of correspondence from friends, family, and even my oncology nurses.

  Dear Joan,

  I have been thinking about our conversation all evening regarding your People mag cover shoot. You asked what I would do. My true honest answer is I would wear my wig. You are beyond brave for sharing your story with the world. No one will think less of you for wearing what makes you comfortable on the cover. I think you are worried about protecting your family, and there is no need to add stress to an already trying time. You should be proud of all the many lives you are touching! Just wanted to share my honest opinion since you asked. I hope you have a restful weekend. No option is right or wrong, whatever you choose.

  I was really touched that my nurse had been thinking about our discussion long after I had left the treatment center, and was worried that I was stressing over the decision. So I wrote her right back:

  Hi,

  I really appreciate your email. Haven’t made the decision yet, I guess because of my 20-year connection with the American people as host of Good Morning America I still feel a responsibility to them. Funny how that happens, it has been over 18 years since I left, but it was such a strong connection and I hear from them ALL the time, and they are so loving and so well wishing, and just so appreciative of all the years in their homes. So just because I’m not on GMA, it’s not like I walk away and never hear from them and forget them, because we live in a world of social media and the Internet, so you stay connected to them and continue the relationship.

  However, I do agree that it is a stressful decision and that I don’t need the stress, especially right now. And frankly, what HAS TO BE THE MOST IMPORTANT CONCERN IN MY DECISION is how my children, 9-year-old twins and 11-year-old twins, will feel about it. But again, I really appreciate your concern and your wonderful connection with me on this journey. It has made this journey so much less difficult. Thank you so very much!

  Joan

  I remember once saying to the oncology nurse that I always felt like a bald girl isn’t fully dressed without some funky knit cap on her head. We laughed when I said it, but then I shared how weird I felt being bald in front of my husband. While I knew in my heart it (probably) didn’t bother him a bit—he’s so incredibly loving and supportive—let’s face it, he married the bold, blond TV host Joan Lunden. I couldn’t help myself: I genuinely felt strange and uncomfortable whenever he caught a glimpse of the bald me. At first, when I took off my wig at night, I slipped a little cotton knit hat on my head. I told him it was because I got so cold when I didn’t cover my head—and since I’d started chemo, I was always freezing, so that was true. But quite honestly, it was because I was initially so embarrassed to let him see me bald. He could say it didn’t matter, that it was no big deal, but I had two eyes and a mirror, and I could see that it was a big deal. Sometimes I heard that Rod Stewart song “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” playing in my head, and then a resounding NO! being shouted back.

  Okay, it did make me laugh.

  Thank goodness I still had my sense of humor.

  And that was the whole point of doing the People cover without a wig. By putting my bald image out there for everyone to see, I would be sending a positive message: “Yes, I’m bald, and yes, it looks very different, but I’m smiling because I know I’m doing the right thing.”

  Still, I was grappling with how Jeff would really feel when everyone, everywhere, saw his wife with no hair. If I chose to do this, would that be fair to him?

  And what about the kids?

  I needed to know how they felt about it, too.

  So one night we all gathered on my bed, and I threw it out for discussion. We talked about the pros and cons and how they would feel to see their mom bald on the cover of a magazine.

  Max was the first to raise his hand. His arm shot right up immediately as I posed the question; he said, “You should do it, Mom. It will help a lot of people.”

  And with that, all of the kids agreed.

  Ultimately, the decision rested squarely on my shoulders—just like my bald head. I had to decide whether I was courageous enough to pose bald on the cover of People, or whether I would weenie out.

  But wait.

  Appearing bald on the cover of People could become the ultimate representation of strength and power over cancer.

  How could I ignore that opportunity?

  Well, that sure sounded good and even made me feel a lot better about doing it.

  Ugh!

  Stress is not good when you are battling cancer, especially when you’re dealing with the emotional and physical side effects of chemotherapy.

  And then I had an epiphany. I knew exactly what to do. I would hold off on making any decision until the day of the shoot. I would simply let my heart and instincts guide me. They hadn’t let me down yet.

  CHAPTER 21

  No Turning Back Now

  I do have a fear of failure. I cannot fail. Not when the stakes are so high, with so many lives in the balance.

  NANCY BRINKER

  CEO of the Susan G. Komen Foundation

  There was a lot of excitement in our house as Kate and Max got ready to start their first day of middle school. I set the alarm for six A.M. so I could be awake and ready to take them to their new school. On the car ride there, Jeff and I did our best to make them feel comfortable and at ease. We couldn’t tell whether they were excited or nervous about going to a new school with kids they didn’t know. I sometimes think it’s the parents who are more anxious in these situations.

  As for me?

  I was ex
cited about what lay ahead for these two great kids—they adapt easily and make friends wherever they go. But I was also contemplating the potential fallout a bald People cover would present for them in their new school. They were at an age where kids say cruel things. I didn’t want them to endure any type of ridicule if I chose to do the cover without my wig. I didn’t want to knowingly create any embarrassment or distress for Kate and Max or any of my children. Above all, I didn’t want anyone to ask, “Is your mom going to die?”

  Oh, this was creating so much angst—and the clock was ticking down, because it just so happened that today was the day of reckoning.

  After we dropped the kids off and said our goodbyes, Jeff and I drove off like it was any other day.

  But it wasn’t.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  That was the ten-thousand-pound elephant in the car, wasn’t it?

  Kate Coyne and her crew from People would be at the house in a few hours, wanting to know my decision. I was trying to conjure up the courage to take the shot and make the statement. The only hurdle still holding me back was how vulnerable and uncomfortable my family might feel. Even so, I took a deep breath and told Jeff I was leaning toward doing the cover bald.

  Without missing a beat, my incredibly supportive husband was quick to assure me that he thought that was a brave decision and he was proud of me.

  Whoa.

  “Are you sure that you won’t feel embarrassed about everyone else seeing me bald?” I asked.

  Jeff reached across the front seat, took my hand, and said, “You are beautiful with or without hair.”

  By the time we got home, I thought I had made up my mind to go forward, but once again, I was having second thoughts. There was still something pulling at me. Kate Coyne and Brenna Britton, the deputy photo editor, asked to talk to me before I totally backed out. We went into my bedroom and into the closet where I kept my wigs. As we stood there talking, Kate shared a very personal story about her grandmother, who had been diagnosed with breast cancer but chose not to go through chemotherapy because she was afraid of losing her hair. As a result, she died. If she had seen a cover like the one I was contemplating, perhaps her outcome would have been different.

  That did it for me.

  I don’t know if Kate Coyne even had a sick grandmother, but she sure is good at her job.

  “I can do this, Kate! I’m ALL in,” I said.

  There was no turning back now.

  The People shoot was very different from any other I had done. This one had purpose—intentionality. I knew where I was headed in the outcome. In the end, there would be a message in that photo. If it’s true that a picture speaks a thousand words, then the images that photographer Ruven Afanador captured that day could have filled a novel.

  When I shared my decision with Kate, I wanted to be sure that she understood I was doing the cover bald for specific reasons. It was important to me to give the thousands of women out there going through this battle a voice, to show them that just because you lose your hair during chemo, you can still be strong, vibrant, and normal.

  I needed them to know that as soon as the chemo is over, your hair will grow back.

  That it’s not that big of a deal.

  Husbands, partners, family members, and friends need to be as supportive as possible, because we do feel weird and kind of embarrassed as we are going through it, but we can and will come out of it—as survivors!

  And that is what matters!

  If one woman who was neglecting treatment because of a fear of losing her hair and possibly her breast(s) gets this message and seeks treatment and it saves her life, then my being seen bald for a few moments—okay, days; okay, maybe even weeks or a few months, since the picture would probably live on virally for a while—WILL HAVE BEEN WORTH IT.

  There was a buzz and energy in the air as we got started. Ruven began the photo shoot with a wig, then with a beautiful Hermès scarf wrapped around my head: a nice accessory to the beautiful Helmut Lang ivory sweater they had me wearing.

  When it was time to pull off the scarf and take the photos without my wig, I asked that they clear the set of everyone other than the photographer and those absolutely essential for obtaining the shot. My daughter Sarah stayed to keep a close eye on the setup and to make sure she liked what was being shot. I think Ruven was pretty psyched when he looked through his lens. We were all aware this was a most unusual circumstance.

  As I stood just a foot or two in front of the camera lens, extremely conscious of the camera’s close proximity, I thought about my dad and how proud he would be. He would say, “Smile effusively so that you connect with everyone and make them feel comfortable with what you are doing. That’s how you will get the chance to make a difference in this world, my baby doll.”

  That’s what he always called me . . . baby doll.

  I can’t say that I felt much like a baby doll in that moment. I felt more like a fierce warrior, a brave and mighty warrior taking a stance, driving home a point, and showing everyone that my uncomfortable decision might send a message that would be like a wave across a nation, hopefully changing the way we see women dealing with breast cancer and maybe changing the way we deal with the ladies in our lives going through this challenging journey. When I looked in the lens, I needed to wear that bold attitude to pull it off.

  Something told me I had when I found Ruven looking at his computer screen. About an hour after we finished up, we were shown four different options of the “bald” photos that could be used for the cover of the magazine.

  I will never be able to find the words to thank Kate Coyne for helping me find the courage to allow this People cover to be shot. Her support and vision for the cover was spot-on. Although I wasn’t positive what the response would be, she was. From the start, Kate totally understood the reaction her readers would have. I had to believe she knew something I didn’t. It was a giant leap of faith—but one I had to risk taking, in honor of all of the warriors fighting breast cancer.

  CHAPTER 22

  The Unexpected Curveballs of Cancer

  Too many women are so afraid of breast cancer that they endanger their lives. These fears of being “less” of a woman are very real, and it is very important to talk about the emotional side effects honestly. They must come out in the open.

  BETTY FORD

  First lady, diagnosed with breast cancer in 1974

  I had my first appointment with Dr. Barbara Ward, my cancer surgeon, since leaving for Maine at the beginning of the summer. During my physical exam, she surprisingly said, “I don’t really feel your tumor at all. I clearly felt it the last time I examined you on June twelfth, but I don’t seem to feel it now. I want you to have an ultrasound and see where things stand.”

  Wow!

  Really?

  Does that mean it might be gone?

  If that was the case, then what would be my next steps?

  Okay, I would be lying if I told you that this didn’t get my hopes up. I mean, come on! My cancer surgeon said she couldn’t find my tumor!

  Was it possible that it really had gone away?

  Did we really kill it off over the summer with the chemo?

  Would I even need more chemo, and if I did, how many rounds?

  If the tumor were gone or almost gone, I could skip more toxic chemo and go straight to surgery.

  Okay, wait. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself and possibly set myself up for disappointment.

  Breathe, Joan, breathe!

  I would have to patiently wait for the results of the ultrasound, because that would dictate everything going forward.

  I wasn’t sure what to expect when I went for my ultrasound. I went in trying to treat it like any other appointment. As always, I took off everything from the waist up, put on the gown, and lay down on the very same table where they had discovered my tumor a couple of months earlier. Having any type of procedure where people are looking for tumors is nerve-wracking, but there was a glimmer of hop
e, and unlike last time, I had a sense that there might be some good news when the test was over.

  The technician came in, opened up my gown, instructed me to put my right arm up over my head, squirted that cold squishy liquid onto my right breast, and started to make her way around my chest. She seemed to be going back to one area of my right breast that they hadn’t looked at before—an area not even close to the location of my tumor.

  I immediately freaked out and became invested in my fear that she had found another tumor. This was exactly what had happened during the last ultrasound: The tech kept going back to the same spot again and again.

  All I could think while I was lying there, vulnerable and exposed, was: Please, God, don’t let her find another tumor. We’re supposed to be killing cancer cells, not growing them! How could this be?

  Talk about paying dues on a debt not yet incurred!

  Just lie there, Joan, and try not to think, I reminded myself as I tried to drown out the horrible thoughts racing through my mind.

  Then the tech started poking around in the general area of the tumor. She appeared to get frustrated. She finally looked at me and said, “I’m going to call in the doctor now,” and left the room.

  I was left lying there, almost paralyzed by the thought that she might have found something else. A few moments later, Jeff came in to be with me. I didn’t tell him what I was thinking or that she may have found another tumor (because all of this was in my mind).

  Dr. Calamari came into the room with the tech, picked up the ultrasound wand, and started looking at the images on the screen.

  The tech looked at the doctor and said, “See what I mean? I can’t find the tumor!”

  The two kept searching and finally saw the clips that the radiologist had put in when she did the initial biopsy, but little else.

  The doctor looked at me and said, “It seems as though the tumor is almost completely gone. It appears to have shrunk about eighty percent in size. This is terrific! You have had really amazing success!” It was what we had all hoped for, but it was almost too good to be true. And you know what they say: “If it’s too good to be true, then it probably is!”