ONE of the most memorable moments in my breast cancer journey was joining my first ICanServe gathering, where founding president Kara Magsanoc-Alikpala and many others in the group welcomed me with open arms. I was bald, still a little shaky from ongoing chemotherapy, but warmed by the goodwill and acceptance. “I would never have wanted you to join,” said Kara’s late mother, much-loved Inquirer editor in chief Letty Jimenez-Magsanoc. “But now that you’re in, that’s good.”
It was not my first encounter with the group. I remember having interviewed Kara about breast cancer many years before that, when she told me she “wouldn’t wish chemo on my worst enemy.” These were the days before the refinement of breast cancer treatment, when Kara hardly had information on what stage she was, whether she was estrogen- or progesterone-positive, and other parameters that now determine the path of treatment. I had done several stories on breast cancer, as well, so although I was still obviously unnerved by my 2013 diagnosis, I wasn’t paralyzed, because I knew what I was facing.
I remembered seeing copies of the book ICANSERVE: A Network of People, Places and Services for the Philippine Breast Cancer Community, published in 2000 and 2003, an unprecedented publication, given away for free; I remember pages featuring the late Patricia Borromeo modeling chic ways to wear a scarf. It was groundbreaking, because nobody ever talked about how to handle the illness in this way before, and no other book provided so much useful information in one place. In 2023, I was proud to have been part of producing the updated version of the manual, which we titled You Can Do This: A Breast Cancer Patients’ Manual, and which can now be downloaded in Tagalog and Cebuano, as well—still for free.
ICanServe Foundation, Inc. was founded in 1999 by four breast cancer survivors: Kara, Crisann Celdran, Becky Fuentes, and Bet Lazatin, who saw the need to support and educate women reeling from a diagnosis, struggling through treatments, and figuring out how to live with what survivors call their “new normal”—monitoring and vigilance, tests, and other constants. Becky Fuentes passed away in April this year.
In 2005, ICANSERVE staged Silver Linings, the very first time a national breast cancer forum and homecoming gathered survivors from all over the country. Held every three years, it attracts about a thousand attendees, with delegations coming from all over the country. For the 2019 edition, I was privileged to talk about Depression After Cancer, alongside psychiatrist Dr. Justin Aquino.
It was founded in 1999 by four breast cancer survivors who saw the need to support and educate women reeling from a diagnosis, struggling through treatments, and figuring out how to live their ‘new normal’
In 2008, consistent with its mission of championing early breast cancer detection, the group started the first comprehensive community-based breast cancer screening program, called Ating Dibdibin (loosely translated from Tagalog as “Let’s take it to heart”). Now the foundation’s flagship program, it has brought many women, who would otherwise have neglected their breast health, to screening centers and ultimately to life-saving treatment. We’ve also just finished a manual for patient navigators, community-based volunteers who are the lifelines of frightened, helpless women confronted with the diagnosis or treatment.
Although we always say it’s the kind of group you wish you didn’t have to join, I have to say it’s been a fun ride, because breast cancer survivors are some of the most fun people in the world. I’ve tagged along to Ating Dibdibin events in Pasay and Malabon; since I sort of “specialize” in mental health, as I have bipolar disorder, I’m asked to talk about living with it in light of cancer. We were ecstatic over the very successful Southeast Asian Breast Cancer Symposium in 2022, and we launched the manual in Cebu and Baguio in 2023.
Through ICanServe, I’ve also met some of the strongest and most interesting women I have had the privilege of ever knowing. I think of my “lodi,” long-time member and head of the support group Minda’s Buddies in Baguio, Marivic Bugasto, who has been living with Stage 4 breast cancer for years, but is still a funny, gregarious dynamo, living life 10 times more substantially than many people I know. I think of people we’ve lost, like the tireless Lanie Eusebio, whom I accompanied a couple of times on talks and events with corporations, and dynamic duo Dr. Gia Baquian Sison and Patty Balquiedra, outspoken advocates. I especially remember the sweet, always helpful Myrna Guibao, for many years ICanServe’s administrative officer, who passed away last year, and who was an angel who helped me secure cheaper medication while I was on aromatase inhibitors for seven years.
There are friends whose own breast cancer journeys have made us even better friends: my dear Kara, of course—whose shoulder I used to cry on regularly—and Leah Caringal and Libet Virata, among others.
It makes sense that ICanServe board member Carla Paras-Sison always greets new members on Facebook with the words, “Welcome to a sisterhood like no other!” Indeed, the love is palpable; on Facebook, queries about treatments and sources of cheaper medication receive many quick replies, suggestions, and words of support.
This year, ICanServe turns 25. That’s a quarter of a century since Kara first told me she had asked God to give her a mission, something to do to give back after surviving her illness. Gorgeous Cebu sister Rodly Ricafort created a frame for members to post to commemorate the year and the series of activities to be announced. It feels great to be part of something so powerful and good. As the text accompanying our pictures reads, “As ICanServe turns 25, I couldn’t be more proud of this sisterhood like no other.”
Abangan. And if you or a loved one does get diagnosed, you know where to go. Because a breast cancer diagnosis is not a death sentence—it may even be the start of a more meaningful life.