Dragon Boats

Dragon Boats

Photos and Text by:Sarah Barnett

Stories Written By Survivors

Special Thanks to :Denise Lannon and The River Sisters

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A bit about the cause...Dragon Boat racing has become a popular event in and around the Philadelphia area, focusing on cancer patients, survivors, and simply just supporters. The various teams come together to show their support for the disease and people that have suffered and or survived. Many teams have been brought together because of the illness, which is a positive outcome of a negative ailment. The River Sisters are a wonderful example of a close team. The River Sisters are a group

of women, many whom have had breast cancer. They came together through knowing other women who suffered from the same struggle. They have a sister team known as the River Sirens. Both teams work hard together to win the race, and fight the cause.

This book will include very personal stories of a few of the women and their struggles through out their illness, and the road to recovery.

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Denise LannonIn 2005 I attended Latin Aerobics classes weekly at

my gym. One night after the class the instructor announced

that he had Breast Cancer Awareness pink ribbon pins, if

anyone wanted them. I collected my pin, and it reminded

me to do a self-exam (which I hadn’t done in several

months). I discovered a lump in my left breast which

actually didn’t alarm me too much. My brother was

gravely ill at the time, waiting for a liver transplant. We

couldn’t BOTH be seriously ill. At my next routine GYN

checkup I told the doctor I had found a lump; he was pretty

sure it was only a cyst, but asked me to get an ultrasound to

confirm. If the ultrasound picture was round and dark, no

worries….most likely a cyst.

I arranged for the ultrasound on New Year’s Eve

day. I was straining my head to look at the screen….and

to look at the technician’s face to see if she would reveal

anything (they never do). I didn’t see anything remotely

looking round and dark on the screen. I saw an ugly lobed

mass and got that uh-oh feeling. I knew I was in trouble

when I was asked to get a mammogram right after the

ultrasound, and was called into the doctor’s office. It was

eerie being in that darkened office with all of my historical

mammogram photos lighting up the room. The lump did

not show in the mammogram. I was urged to see a

surgeon as soon as possible.

The surgeon performed an in-office biopsy right

away, with my husband present. Re-entering the

examining room the doctor told me “it looks like cancer.”

That ugly word. I remember sitting there, very quietly

taking it all in. I couldn’t look at my husband. No drama,

tears or freak-outs—just quiet visualization of a short

future. We would have to wait a week for the official

biopsy results, which came back positive, but I was

prepared because of the surgeon’s words. I had to wait the

longest three weeks of my life before the surgery (I wanted it

OUT) getting MRIs and other tests. My brother passed

away a week before I had a lumpectomy, four lymph nodes

removed, and a small second lump removed (benign). My

tumor margins were clear but close and I would now move

on to next step….chemotherapy.

I met with an oncologist who described what my life

would be like for the next four months. AC drip every

three weeks, four times. I would be sitting in one of the

comfy chairs getting toxic, just like the medical shows on

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I would find out how toxic. The nurses administering one of the

drugs wore heavy rubber gloves to inject a deep pink (how ironic)

liquid into the drip. No, you wouldn’t want to touch the stuff, let

alone allow it to circulate around your body. My hair would fall out

by the second treatment, how nice. Huge mouth sores made it

difficult to talk. I was able to work between treatments because I

was sick (flu-like symptoms) for only three or four days following,

and I began to feel much better toward the end of each cycle. Then

it was time to go back and do it again. I wore a wig but ripped it

off my head the minute I got home. My family and friends got

used to seeing my billiard ball head, made jokes about it and kept

me mentally afloat through this time. I said goodbye to my

eyelashes and eyebrows by the end of the treatments. Not a good

look. It was time to move onto the next phase….radiation.

Seven weeks of daily radiation was relatively painless though

inconvenient. The last week of concentrated beam did produce

some radiation burns. OK, now I was toxic, bald AND

radioactive. I got to ring a brass bell outside the treatment area

when I finished my last rads. Ding, dong, done.

But the oncologist didn’t say good bye to me at the end of

my AC chemo. My pathology indicated HER-2 positive--a very

aggressive, fast- growing type of cancer--which can recur…quickly.

I would be target-treated with Herceptin every three weeks for a

YEAR following the radiation. My hair would grow back. There

were minimal side effects and I could live a fairly normal life (the

new normal, whatever that was to be).

Exactly one month following radiation, I began the Herceptin

infusions and also taking orally an aromatase inhibitor (estrogen

suppressor). A friend of mine, Carol Ksiazek, asked me if I was

feeling well enough to join a dragon boat team. She had told me a

little bit about it; it was all strange but kind of interesting. I

practiced one summer night on the Schuylkill with the River Sirens

and I was hooked. Just being out on the river, synchronizing the

strokes, the team work, the camaraderie. I was blown away. I

knew I wanted to do this. It was very life-affirming; it promoted

healing, built confidence—something I have always lacked

throughout my life. The following year the Sirens started a cancer

survivor team. I had just received my “diploma” (really) from the

oncology department after completing months and months of

treatments. An official survivor, I just knew I had to roll to the

newly-created team.

So now I am a happy member of the River Sisters. Such

great women make up this team. Our stories are different but the

theme is the same…we all feel lucky and we’re all in the same boat.

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“The joy of cancer.”-Jacquelyn Radano

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Nancy Warren

It was May 2002 when I was scheduled for my annual

Mammogram. The years seemed to roll around so quickly. I

remember thinking on the way into the Radiology Lab; I think

every two to three years would be plenty to have this x-ray. I

don’t have anyone in my family with breast cancer. I was 54

years old, and feeling great.

The x-ray seemed like any other time. I waited until

they said I could go home it was clear enough for them to read.

Two days later I received a call from the gynoglogist on a

Sunday afternoon, I had to return for an additional

mammogram and ultra-sound. Receiving a call on a Sunday

from a doctor is never a good feeling. Back I went to the Lab;

I never knew that mammogram machines had so many extra

pieces and positions. They always give the patients a rose and

thank you for taking care of you. I was there so long that day

they gave me a half dozen. Boy was I sore.

I needed a needle placement biopsy. There weren’t any

lump just little specks like salt in my right breast. I was sure it

wasn’t anything to be concerned about. I felt like I was having

an out of body experience when they told me it was cancer.

The good news it was stage one. So I only needed a

lumpectomy and then 32 radiation treatments.

In 2007, I received a letter from Cooper Cancer

Institute addressed to all cancer survivors. They were starting a

cancer survivor dragon boat team being mentored by another

local team the River Sirens. I had been encouraged to join a

team in Philadelphia by my friends years earlier. I wasn’t

feeling strong enough to get involved. The letter peeked my

interest, women only, all cancer survivors, all ages and local. It

was described as being good for women’s upper body strength.

At the open house the speakers explained the equipment, the

boat, how to paddle. I still wasn’t convinced it was for me. I

told my daughter and friends about the sport and they said

“You have to do it” With their encouragement I tried it. Well,

it was harder than it looked, but boy did it feel good when they

said “Let It Ride”. The team’s favorite three words. Meaning

stop paddling!

The benefits of being with such a wonderful group of

women out weighted the fear of something new, and the pain

of get stronger. We support each other working together to get

the boat moving in sync and on personal levels also. We are the

River Sisters. We paddle because we can; we paddle for those

that cannot. 

I had another battle to face in 2010. I had a

mastectomy and reconstruction. I wouldn’t have been able to

keep my spirits up without the love and support of my family

and the River Sisters.

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“We paddle because we can; we paddle for those that cannot.”

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Jacquelyn Radano

It was July of 2001 and I was jogging in place, ouch,

something hurts on the left side of my breast. I press my hand

to the area and briefly feel a lump. I try to find it again,

where did it go? Oh it’s just my imagination, go take a

shower Drama Queen. Afterwards I attempt to find the lump

so I lay down and I feel it once more. This time it doesn’t

disappear. This can’t be breast cancer; it was only 8 months

since my last mammography. Stay calm; ask Robert when he

comes home what he thinks. “You better get that checked” he

says with a worried look on his face.

A gynecologist examined me and said to stop all

caffeine and wait until after my next period; it would

probably go away on its own. He gave me a prescription to

have a mammography. He said there was no real need or

rush to have it done. That is when I decided to have the test

as soon as possible. He was dismissive at best and I was

angry. I went immediately to the radiology department and

scheduled an appointment for the next day.

After a mammography, ultrasound and needle biopsy

the results were in; I had a cancerous tumor. This is when the

“joy of cancer” began. Having cancer brought more good in

my life than I would have ever imagined. The support of my

family and friends was overwhelming. I grew spiritually in

my faith and relied on my Lord completely. The surgeon was

a kind man with great skill and my oncologist guided me with

dignity and gave me the knowledge needed to make informed

decisions on treatment. I derived such great strength from the

numerous prayers being said for me.

Fast forward to early 2007 when I became a member

of a Dragonboat team of cancer survivors. Mentored by the

River Sirens, we, “The River Sisters”, gather together every

spring through fall to paddle on the Cooper River. Even

though we became a team because of an awful disease we all

shared, we soon learned that we are more than Cancer

Survivors and it can no longer define us. Dragon boating

empowers us and makes us stronger; this heinous disorder may

affect our body but never our spirit. The women I have come

to know are truly remarkable, I am so thankful that these

beautiful ladies are a part of my life.

With the many acts of kindness, words of hope, and

prayers I was destined (and determined) to beat this disease

that strikes fear in all of us. It has been over nine years since

the discovery of my lump. Cancer came in like a lion but left

like the Lamb! I try to keep that joy in my heart and will be

forever grateful to my Lord, family and friends, old and

new….

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Brenda Bradley HardegenTwo weeks after we did the Race for the Cure on

Mother's Day in May of 2006 I was diagnosed. I was told

initially that my yearly mammogram was fine. Two days later I

received a call from the Breast Imaging Center asking me

to return because they needed to do more films. Once they did

more films they wanted to do an Ultrasound. Then I met with

the radiologist who told me I really needed a biopsy. My

emotions were scattered. I did not want to share this with my

husband because his first wife died of a brain tumor and my

former husband died of colon cancer. I knew my husband would

not handle it very well. The doctor said, " You need to share this

with him."

  The Ultrasound guided needle biopsy was scheduled for

the following Monday. After meeting the Radiation Oncologist,

who was to perform the biopsy, she kept looking at the

mammogram films and then at the ultrasound, back to the

mammogram's and back to the ultrasound. I actually thought she

was going to come to me and say," you do not need a biopsy." 

Instead she said, " Brenda, you need two biopsies. How would

you like to proceed?"  My response was, "Please, we need to do

them now so we we know what we are dealing with." Two days

later while in my kitchen preparing dinner I received the phone

call from Dr.Therien that would change the rest of my life.

The second site Dr.Therien's discovered the morning of the

biopsy turned out to be Infiltrating Ductal Carcinoma, estrogen

and progesterone positive with an over expression of the HER2

oncogene. This translates to "highly aggressive metastatic type

tumor."  Surgical management was recommended. The first site

was benign.

 Fortunately, I spent the last 16 years of my life working

as a Clinical Nurse Specialist at a major teaching hospital in

Philadelphia.  I knew and worked with some of the physicians

who were to become key players on my team.  Initially, I spent

hours researching Breast Cancer.  Ann Rosenberg would be my

surgeon of choice. I opted for a tissue sparing procedure rather

than mastectomy because the site was small. Dr. Rosenberg told

me I would only need this lumpectomy, sentinel node biopsy and

radiation. Surgery was scheduled for the following week. 

  Tracy, my oldest daughter, was going to race in her first

Ironman the Sunday after my surgery.  I did not want her to

know about my surgery until after the race because she trained

so hard and raised over $11,000.00 for the National Colo-Rectal

Cancer Foundation in memory of her dad. However, my

husband convinced me to tell her before she left for Coeur

d' Alene, Idaho saying, " If you do not tell her and she finds out

from someone else she will be very upset."

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While we stood in Tracy's kitchen with her husband Eric tears

rolled down her cheeks as I told her my news.  "You are going to fight

it aggressively aren't you mom!"  This was not a question. Then with

her wonderful sense of humor she sobbed, "Just think, next year you

can wear a pink tee shirt when we do the Race for the Cure."  I

answered without skipping a beat, "Oh yes, just what I always wanted

a pink tee shirt."  Laughter broke out from the four of us and hugs all

around.

  We made arrangements for Kristin, my youngest daughter to

fly from Florida out to Idaho to surprise Tracy before her race.  I

followed Tracy's progress through her swim, bike and run on my lap

top at home while recovering.  Kristin called me when Tracy was half

way through her 26.2 mile run to tell me, "Mom, she looks great,

smiling all the way."  I am so proud of and thankful to my daughters. 

They were my main support system through my treatments..

 I was still in denial about my diagnosis.  It was not until my first visit

to the radiologist to set up radiation that I learned I needed to go back

and talk with the surgeon about delay of the radiation. Back to the

Breast surgeons office I met with Dr. Kristin Brill, Dr. Rosenberg's

partner. She is the one who told me I needed to select an Oncologist.  I

was devastated and confused.  Up to this point I did not think the

situation was so bad since I was told I would only need radiation.

 Choosing an Oncologist was effortless for me.  I have known and

worked with a brilliant Oncologist at Thomas Jefferson University

Hospital long enough to understand his blunt, no beating around the

bush approach to treatment. This is what I needed, this is why I chose

him. I had a highly aggressive, metastatic type tumor.  It was caught

early and treated with the latest protocol available.  Dr.Lewis Rose

told me he put me through "Hell" with my treatments, that it would

come back. However, they were not only looking survival rates

but, they are beginning to look at "Cure" rates with this particular

protocol.  

  My sister, Andrea, died of breast cancer two years ago.  I am

still trying to understand why she did not go for her mammogram like

I asked her to when I was diagnosed. Apparently, Andrea's cancer was

not as aggressively metastatic but, she ignored her symptoms and it

grew out of control. She had a better chance of survival if she did

removal of the tumor and radiation early on. I do not understand why

some people ignore their symptoms and the treatments available. If she

had gone for her mammogram, she might still be here.  What a heart

breaking empty void many of us have because she is gone.

Saturday, I will be Paddling in the "International Dragon Boat

Races," on the Schuylkill River in Philadelphia with the "River

Sisters." The entire team of River Sisters is made up of "Cancer

Survivors." 

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These are amazing women.  We would not be

here if we ignored our symptoms or ignored the

treatments available. I hated being a human pin

cushion.  I hated the flu like symptoms my chemo

caused. I hated the mouth sores. I hated the perineal

sores. I hated the radiation burns. I hated the baldness. I

hated the blisters on my scalp. I hated the tiredness. I

hated the chemo brain loss of memory.  I hated the

peripheral neuropathy. I hated the cardiac compromise.

I could not deal with the nausea of chemo but, there

good medications available that last for five days to

eliminate nausea.  I hated the twenty extra pounds I

gained from the steroids I needed to take to prevent

adverse reactions to the chemo drugs. I hated being

reminded that I had cancer.  I did not and do not like

talking about the fact I had Cancer.  However, the

River Sisters have made me realize how very fortunate I

am.  Only recently have I begun to acknowledge what I

went through and have the ability to talk about it with

other cancer survivors.

“These are amazing women.”

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Sue CoonsAt age 39 breast cancer was not even a thought. I

discovered trace amounts of dried blood in my bra and

new it was not normal. However, my first thought was,

“how the hell did I get make up in my bra?” Then I

realized my nipple had a discharge and I must have an

infection of some nature. Somehow, much deeper in my

gut I had a dreadful intuition that I should be alarmed.

Following sense of urgency and an appointment

with my OBGYN, he sent me for a mammogram. Given

that I wasn’t 40 and had no history of problems this was

my first and one of my last mammograms. I remember

the day because it changed my life. December 10, 2004.

The technician had asked me to please be seated in the

waiting room while the radiologist reviewed the film. The

radiologist himself came and got me from the waiting

room. He led me by the hand to his office and said, “I am

very concerned” and proceeded to tell me/show me what

he detected and why he was alarmed.

Needless to say this led to a never ending waiting

game of un-welcomed tests, and biopsies followed by the

unfathomable diagnosis of Cancer. Eventually a double

mastectomy was performed on February 21, 2005. I had

severe DCIS, Ductile Carcinoma Insitu with micro

invasion and a tumor bed on my chest wall. There was no

way to save my left breast the cancer was too invasive.

This was a highly aggressive form of cancer and statistics

led me in the direction of having my right breast removed

as well (80% in my lifetime cancer would invade the right

breast). I had intensive radiation everyday for 4 months,

followed by several reconstructive surgeries, and a lifetime

of concern.

I felt like I had allowed this to consume my life. It

was my first thought in the morning and my last at night.

However, I never gave up. I continued to work as close to

full time as my body would permit and I kept up with my

children to the best of my ability. Truth be told (not that I

didn’t know this already) my husband Bob was truly my

anchor. He entirely supported my decision in having both

breast removed, he kept up with the kids schedules, cooked,

cleaned, and kept me afloat heading in the direction of

HOPE. Hope that we would survive this typhoon life had

sent our way.

As time wore on I just couldn’t settle in to my life.

Our lives have changed - I don’t care who you are your

life changes after an epic event like this.

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Worry, anxiety, and fear were devouring

precious moments in everyday.

Then it happened. Jackie Radano, who had

already been my mentor (she probably doesn’t even

know this) called me. It wasn’t unusual for us to keep in

touch after cancer had brought us together. She

mentioned to me she had become a member of a dragon

boating team. The team members were a special blend

of women, most of whom were survivors. She told me

there was a meeting and asked if I would like to attend

to get a better understanding of what the team was all

about.

This was an impressive group of women who

have so much to offer and with no hesitation I became a

member of the River Sisters. The unity, the resilience,

THE POWER this group has astounds me every time

we are together. This was a colossal turning point for

me mentally and spiritually.

Be it on the river, or off, the feeling of unison has

grounded me and brought a vast realization that I am

going to LIVE. Truth be told ….. cancer was a

blessing. Seize every moment, treasure those you love,

welcome every day and receive it with gratitude.

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“...we feel lucky, and we’re all in the same boat.”

-Denise Lannon

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