P.O. Box 323, 3440 Lehigh Street, Allentown, PA 18103 (610) 966-3466

Close to Home Concert

Catherine Boulay Foundation Close to Home: Songs and Lessons of Cancer Survivorship Concert

Songs and Lessons of Cancer Survivorship
Performed by Rick Boulay, MD

Miller Symphony Hall
Allentown, PA

Saturday, April 29th • 7 pm | Buy tickets!
Sunday, April 30th • 3 pm | Buy tickets!

Donation $25
Join us for cocktails 30 minutes before performances.

For tickets, visit allentownsymphony.org or call (610) 432-6715!

The Power of a Word

Catherine Boulay Foundation: The Power of a Word

She had known many losses over her forty years.

Her husband died several years ago. She lived in a car. Her eight children were under the protective care of her sister-in-law. After her recent diagnosis of cervical cancer made at a local emergency department, she required a four-week psychiatric admission for depression. Recently discharged, she was admitted under my care for treatment of her cervical cancer.

“I can feel a mass on your cervix,” I began. “The CT scan and my exam show that mass to be only in the cervix. That’s good news. This is curable, but will take some work to get there. First, I’ll have to find the results of the biopsy done in the ER last month.”

My words were met with hollow eyes and a vacant stare.

“What are you most afraid of?” I continued.

A whisper followed a long pause. “My kids,” she replied, barely audibly.

Her response was only a partial answer, the subject of a longer sentence. A thought, which when completed, sounded more like “My kids… after I die. How will they get on?” After all, there was really only one thing she had left to lose.

Although much has been researched, explored and written on the subject of cancer, its prevention and treatment; relatively little is understood about cancer survivorship; the way our minds and bodies cope with and react to cancer diagnosis. For instance, the American Cancer Society Annual Report 2016, describing the most up to date information of cancer facts and figures, reports that 92% of cervix cancer patients with local disease are cured. And due to effective prevention with HPV vaccine, smoking cessation and effective screening with pap smears, the risk of dying from this disease continues to decrease every year. Women with advanced disease are living longer due to recent interventions with newer active biological agents.

However, despite the increased cure rates, relatively little is understood of the long term consequences of cancer and its treatment for the two thirds of people diagnosed, who can expect to live at least five years. From Cancer Patient to Cancer Survivor: Lost in Transition describes several goals of survivorship care, all of which are geared toward general biological functioning and prevention of future cancers. And although understanding the psychosocial burdens of cancer (i.e. the day to day consequences of a cancer diagnosis) is advocated by major national cancer treatment societies, research into their understanding has been largely left to nongovernmental organizations such as Livestrong.

Cancer does not only affect an organ or a body. Cancer affects people and the society in which they live. Cancer affects the way we think about others and ourselves. Cancer affects the way we behave and interact. In short, a cancer diagnosis changes everything. As people are living better and longer after a cancer diagnosis, it is now time to understand how cancer changes our day-to-day behaviors, our interactions, our fears and hopes, our work and family lives, our finances, and our societal biases. It is time to understand how this one word can change everything.

I never found the result of the biopsy that proved her cervical cancer diagnosis. Instead, as her treating oncologist, I would need to perform the biopsy myself. Reexamination clearly showed a golf ball sized mass protruding through the cervix. A 30 second office procedure removed the mass. The pathology report proved this to be noncancerous.

She will quickly recover from the procedure. But it may take a lifetime to recover emotionally from the burden and trauma of a four-week misdiagnosis of cancer. A word so feared that merely assigning it could render us nonfunctional.

This article was recently published on Thrive Global.

Close to Home: Songs of Survivorship

Catherine Boulay Foundation Close to Home Music

This “Close to Home: Songs of Survivorship” musical collection may have always been meant to be, but was not planned.

As a cancer surgeon and caregiver to family members with cancer, I have been transformed and healed by the power and wisdom of the patient narrative and the emotional integrity of beautiful music. From the beginning, music was planned to play an important role in this project, but I intended to use prewritten, available tracks. Circumstances led us down a different path.

After witnessing the authenticity, generosity and punch of those interviewed for the PBS documentary “Close to Home: Cancer Survivorship”, new music of a similar intensity was required. Dr. Dan Foster and myself collaborated to conceptualize musically, then capture the wide range of emotion and color intrinsic to the cancer journey. Dan’s gorgeous melodies, enhanced with his breathtaking orchestrations grounded my lyric borne of the narratives of survivorship.

And so, over the course of a year, Dan and I worked deliberately to develop this collection. I’ve played music since the age of 5 and published many essays, but I have never written specifically for music nor did I even know how to begin this task. But I knew how I felt when cancer entered my home. And I knew that healing happens at home. I also understood how much I’ve changed as the result of our family’s cancer journey. I found music to be extremely important in my recovery as a caregiver. Most importantly, I work closely with cancer survivors and caregivers every day who generously share their innermost thoughts: their fears and joys, their struggles and acquiescences.

Strong research and ability to write essays unfortunately doesn’t translate particularly well into good lyrics. My friend, Trish Maran MD, writes beautiful poetry that is enjoyed primarily by her laptop. She thinks in stanza and rhyme and meter and image. We sat together for a couple of hours for each song over a bottle of wine to get an idea of what I wanted to say, and how best to verbalize it. We developed a process, which I’ve used throughout this collection. Then I spent countless hours writing and rewriting, all the while becoming very familiar with a rhyming dictionary, a practice that Trish eschewed.

The musical writing process was simple for me: find and hire a genius composer who also happened to be a college music professor and dedicated teacher. Dr. Dan Foster is that man. I would explain by phone the song and form and the sound I was looking for and the lines and intervals I enjoyed singing, send a confirmatory email with YouTube links to songs that I found similar to what I wanted, and voila, a week or two later, I would get a melody with chord progressions playable on a computer program. He nailed every one the first time. My favorite was “Words Left Unsaid” which came with a warning: “My Cathy (Dan’s wife) says don’t listen to this one before you go to bed”. For some odd reason, I heeded that advice. And when I made time to listen, its haunting melody has never left me. Dan then rearranged the songs to include piano, strings, guitar and oboe. I must confess the first time I heard the strings in the studio, playing along to my vocal tracks, I wept.

Choosing the form of the songs came in mini inspirations throughout the months that we worked. After all, how do you write cancer survivorship songs about courage or fear or advocacy? What form does that take? The answer came fairly early on when I realized I was writing songs simply about courage or fear or advocacy. The cancer survivorship part came about in the images and examples and language that I would choose in the lyrics. When unencumbered, the song form was easier to find. For example, how do you write a song about fear in cancer survivorship? Fear is so universal and ugly and paralyzing. It’s something we all experience, but who wants to listen to it? So our song on fear took on the form of a lullaby. A gentle soothing of fear. The song on caregiving had to be a love song that was a duet. And our obvious choice for the advocacy theme was an anthem.

I will finish where I began; this project was never planned, but was always meant to be. My hope is that this music washes through you, gently guiding healing as it finds its way to your soul.

Purchase the CD today!

“Close to Home: Cancer Survivorship”, A Series Borne of Need

Catherine Boulay Foundation: Close to Home Video Series

I was the guy with the answers. The man with a plan. I prided myself on my listening skills. My attention to the details of my cancer patients’ journeys. My humanity. But pride goeth before the fall.

Surgical oncologists are a breed unlike most. We are brazen enough to venture into the places where cancers lurk and chop them out. We are bold enough to reconstruct the anatomy that cancer has destroyed. And courageous enough to suspend folks somewhere between life and death in risky heroics to complete these tasks. Along the way we strive to learn about anatomy and medicine and physiology and surgical technique, but instead often learn more about human suffering, the fragility of the human body and what “quality of life” truly means. We also can’t help but to learn a little something about ourselves and wonder, in the quiet times, what the meaning of it all is.

I was told that I am different from other doctors. And, in fact, have been told this so often, that I began to believe it a little. “You listen,” I’m told. “You treat me like me, not a number.” These words are easy to hear. They resonate deeply within the doctor that I’d like to be. So why, when my wife, at age 44, was diagnosed with leukemia a year or so after Dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer, did I fall apart? I entered the abyss and couldn’t find my way out. How could that be? I had every resource at my fingertips, yet couldn’t manage to put it all together. The answer was, quite simply, I knew a lot about disease and treatment, but less about healing.

You see, I understood the breadth of the cancer journey, but not the depth. These lessons of the wisdom of cancer survivorship were shared graciously by my patients over the years who coached me from the abyss. Collectively, they taught me the profound lessons of life: the beauty of this moment, the strength of human will, the power of hope, and our undeniable connection with the divine. As a result, they inadvertently challenged me to become a more facile surgeon with clear goals of each operation, a more caring physician and a person moved to improve, in some small way, the human condition.

These life-changing lessons deserved to be shared with other survivors and caregivers and practitioners in a meaningful and relevant way. The substance was there, but it begged for a new form with more immediacy, authenticity and context not before seen. “Close to Home: Cancer Survivorship” was borne of this need. “Close to Home” is a series of video documentaries and songs in the intimate voices of survivors, caregivers and physicians deftly woven to cover a series of topics common to the cancer experience.

Additionally, after witnessing the authenticity, generosity and punch of those interviewed for the video portion of this project, new music of a similar intensity was required. Dr. Dan Foster and myself collaborated to conceptualize musically, then capture the wide range of emotion and color intrinsic to the cancer journey. Dan’s gorgeous melodies, enhanced with his breathtaking orchestrations, grounded my lyric borne of the narratives of survivorship.

Close to Home was produced jointly by the Catherine Boulay Foundation and PBS39 WLVT, Bethlehem PA. Its message is clear: cancer is now often survivable, but the survivorship journey challenges and changes us. Its lessons are often simple yet profound, poignant and joyful and are best shared by those who’ve been there.