I was a young designer working for Anne Klein when I first encountered cancer. I worked side-by-side with Anne every day and when she learned she was sick, it was mentioned and then never discussed again until she was very close to losing her battle. I remember how shocking it was that she was so ill. Back then no one discussed cancer. It was a four-letter word just like AIDS once was. Because her illness went unspoken, no one was prepared for her death and while Anne was dealing with her diagnosis, I became pregnant. I had made the decision to be a stay-at-home mother but my plans were short-lived. The same week that Anne died my daughter, Gabby, was born. Death came into my life just as I was giving birth.
The same can be said about my mother’s battle with cancer. We all knew that she wasn’t feeling well, but when she went to the doctor she learned that she was in the last stages of cancer. I found myself struggling with this unbearable loss and having the company to care for. The day my mother passed away was the same day I had a fashion show. It’s not quite like giving birth to my daughter, but it was certainly something I had labored over for months and was a part of myself. Again, life and death came together.
Liz Tilberis was the editor of Harper’s Bazaar magazine, an inspiration to the fashion world and my close friend. When she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in 1993, Liz spent the remainder of her life creating awareness for her disease, eventually becoming the president of the Ovarian Cancer Research Fund. Together, Liz and I created Super Saturday, an annual event in New York City where the fashion community comes together to raise money and awareness about this cancer.
And, when my husband Stephan lost his battle to lung cancer I knew that birth would come again. This time, it was his illness and the battle he fought that planted the seed. I remember being so grateful to the doctors and nurses who cared for him. But it was clear that the illness was getting all the attention and not my husband. I saw his disease being treated, but not his well-being nor his family’s. Having been on my own spiritual path for many years, I brought in practitioners to care for Stephan. Yoga, massage, aromatherapy, healthy nutritious food, and herbs became a part of his care.
It’s been more than seven years since Stephan passed away. My dearest friend, Lynn Kohlman, has battled breast cancer and brain cancer for over five years after being told she only had four months to live. We’ve held each other’s hand from one surgery to the next. Just a couple of months ago, Lynn was hospitalized for another tumor. I quickly recognized that hospitals still have not evolved in their care for the patient. Again, I saw her disease was being cared for, but not Lynn or her family. Sadly, very little advancement had been made since Stephan’s hospitalization.
Out of Stephan’s illness came my dedication to bring integrated therapies to Western medicine. My foundation, Urban Zen, has embraced the yoga community to create a program to teach yoga instructors a curriculum of yoga therapy, massage therapy, aromatherapy, nutrition, and death and dying education. We’ve launched a pilot program at Beth Israel Medical Center in New York City and funded a study to show the benefit of integrative therapies to cancer patients in helping them handle issues like pain, anxiety, nausea, insomnia, and constipation. But patients are not the only people dealing with cancer. Family members, loved ones, and caregivers will receive these therapies as well. I’ve dedicated the foundation’s efforts to creating awareness about these vital complementary therapies in the hope of inspiring change in the Western medical paradigm. I hope to show the medical community that integrative therapy can ease the physical and emotional pain of cancer.
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You've been through so much. Thank you for sharing your experiences. Urban Zen sounds like a wonderful foundation, one that will help so many people in similar situations. It's a very holistic approach – beautiful!
After over 20 years of illness and 7 surgeries I've spend a lot of time as a patient in the hospital. I can relate to your words of humanizing our hospitals. To get better control over my life I learned about meditation and yoga and have found over and over again how important meditation and yoga are to keeping control of my health.
If I never went through all the years of pain I would not be a Chopra Center Instructor helping others today. It makes me say to myself that all of that hapened to me for a reason. Your foundation Urban Zen sounds like an amazing step to helping people who are sick and need to spend too time in a hospital.
I hope you will realize the same as I did, all the pain you went through as the loved one happened for a reason. You are changing the world for the better.
All my best,
Rick
I know I am commenting on my own comment, but this blog has been stuck in my head. I finally realized it was the thought of humanizing a hospital by teaching the patients and families meditation and yoga. As much as I know how powerful and great of an idea this is I can't see how it will humanize a hospital. What your doing will save lives, but not make a hospital a better place. I think the only way to make a hospital more humane would be to also take the lessons of yoga and meditation to the doctors, nurses, and hospital staff. Break up their busy day with a touch of awareness to help bring more compassion into the hospital. Imagine how different a doctor would be if they started a daily meditation and yoga practice. That would not just save lives, but it could also change the world.
I was moved by your posting on humanizing the hospital. I loved your Urban Zen concept on my visit to Sag Harbor. Please keep us posted through links on how we can help humanize healing locations in New York and Long Island. While we don't want our patients to stay in hospitals, I would think new or existing open retreats would be fantastic for healing, where alternative medicine, health maintenance, excercise programs, counseling, uplifting zen art, architecture and sculpture parks, opportunities to be heard or to share. In short, a place of great beauty and dignity for all to meet, family, friends, professionals off work, etc. This would strip away the coldness of the hospital stereotype prevalant that you are talking about. I am an artist and please let me know how I can be of help.
Charles