Women's Stories

When I was talking with literary agents about my book – and make no mistake, I was so lucky to be having conversations at all—there were a few who wondered about the need for the stories of women I’ve supported over 26 years. They thought I should stick to sharing the valuable and practical information I’d learned as a women’s health advocate.

As much as I wanted to please and impress agents and increase the chances of getting the learnings out to as many women as possible, this was not something I felt comfortable yielding on. Women’s health advocacy is my life’s work, and I know that women need stories. We learn and grow from sharing and listening to one another. Finding community together is a huge aspect of healing. I’m so glad I was patient and found an agent and publisher who agree.

One woman who I wrote about in my book has been on my mind recently and I’m thrilled to be able to share a bit more than I could, including visuals. Her name was Karen, and when we met, she was dealing with an ovarian cancer recurrence and trying desperately to get our local teaching hospital to accept her Medicare so that she could get the treatment she needed quickly from the best doctors in the field.

We had much in common and hit it off immediately, the kind of connection you wake up in the morning hoping for. We were two native New Yorkers in the Silicon Valley, urbanites in the land of innovation. She was a creative producer for film and TV, a nonprofit leader, a poet, and a painter. After college, she’d studied languages and art. We hoped to work together on something more creative once we got through what was she was facing because we recognized a kinship. But first, we had a challenge, and we knew every minute was precious. Through targeted joint effort and energy, we made the calls, wrote the emails, and got her seen and treated inside of a week. We made it happen together.

In January of 2016, I got this email from her:

Dear Rebecca,

I hope that you feel the love coming through this email. For the first time in a long time you gave me hope that I can get the proper care, I cannot thank you enough.

I am hopeful that I am moving in the right direction to finally get the care needed to breathe, to live.

Please forward me your address, I would like to send you my poetry & art book. I know that we will meet soon but wanted to send anyway. Can’t wait to meet you. . .

I received her book soon after with this gorgeous inscription:

Karen lived until October of that year. I treasure the book she sent me and the meaningful interchange that we had. People ask me how I can handle getting my heart broken in this way. My answer is this: why would I miss knowing amazing women when I have the opportunity? There is no question, I would rather have known Karen than missed out on her amazing light. I try to emanate it I however I can and tell her story.

When I work with someone like Karen, my resolve becomes stronger. I get wild-eyed. I want to help every woman I possibly can. Something in me cannot abide the way things are, how they have been for way too long.

I keep Karen’s gorgeous book of painting and poetry on my desk and read it often.

I will give her the last word:

When the time is right

You will emerge whole

With all gifts open

And told