George

INDIANAPOLIS - This kind of says it all. I am here, as is my son, because this wonderful man made this wonderful decision. God Bless you, George Sledge.

Dancing with the Devil (version 2.0)

INDIANAPOLIS - So last week, he says to me with a furrowed brow "We are a little concerned about this one, Heidi" – a little concerned. And well you should be, Dr. George, my wonderful genius oncologist. You thought perhaps you found my old nemesis, my arch-enemy, rival, villain, dark passenger. You suspected that my cancer had returned. Thank heavens, the test just came back ok.

I had it all planned in my head: This time around it will be different. This time, I can take just about any kind of preventative/helpful/make-you-better-sooner medicine because this time when I go through cancer treatment, I am not pregnant. This time, I want as much surgery as I can possibly get. I want to walk out this time looking like Jessica Simpson, if you know what I mean. If I’m going to go all the way, I want to do it looking fab-u-lous. While I’m under for the rest of the mastectomy, what say we toss in a tummy tuck and whatever else you think needs a tune-up? That was my game plan – I had it all worked out just.in.case.

So I am doing the dance with NED. I would really like, God, if at all possible, to see my children (all of them) graduate from college. I know the original request I had was just to meet Noah after chemo, just to see his little face and kiss him. But now I’m getting more selfish. The more I am around my children, the more I like them. And want to see more of them. Call me greedy, but I would like to see how they turn out. And get many more kisses. And hear them call me 'mama' all the time, and ask for cookies and climb on my lap for no reason at all. I have so many sweet little reasons to stick around. So thank you for NED. And for those children.

I have my dancing shoes on, NED. You can spin me around the dance floor. I won’t even mind if you step on my toes, you handsome devil.

Ambition

INDIANAPOLIS, IN - I read a facebook post recently that said something like ‘I don’t mind if people are ambitious, I just want them to admit it.’ I’ve heard about some pretty blatant ambition lately, and quite frankly I find it wholly disconcerting. It’s all over social media sites and even the evening news; Climb that ladder, throw whomever it takes under the bus to get to the next ‘level’, disparaging others to make oneself look good, you name it. And not just in the political arena, just in the regular business world! I don’t mind reading about these types of folks, they are pretty clear about what they want and there is something to be said for that kind of candor.

But, today I want to tell you about George and his ambition. In his world, he’s about as important as you can get. He’s got a big, juicy title (several, in fact, and they are so big they can’t all fit on a business card. That alone should throw the overachievers into an apoplectic fit.) He is treated like a superstar, king or even deity by the people who come to see him in his place of business. (Ok, maybe not the nurses, but they do love him. They just don’t genuflect like the rest of us.) I don’t know his salary, but I’m sure it would make people envious as well. In other words, he is the most successful man that I know. King of the hill, top of the heap, a-number-one, just like the song says.

This is my favorite part of George, however. He is compassionate, gentle, kind and quick-witted. He doesn’t parade around in $3,000 suits or insist that we be silent while he is present. He never shakes my hand, he hugs me instead. When he talks to my children, he smiles at them and addresses them as if they really matter to him, and aren’t just nuisances in the way. He has cried with patients who are sick, were too sick to make it, and laughed with the ones who could continue on. I asked him once what else he could possibly want from life, what would make him retire to a life of leisure and luxury. His response should be an example to all, in my opinion, and why George is the most successful man I know.

He said, quietly, “I would like to be put out of a job. I would like a cure for cancer.”

The true definition of a gentleman

When I first met Dr. Sledge, I was two months pregnant and terrified. I had been told I had breast cancer and that I had to terminate my pregnancy. Working for Vera Bradley gave me tremendous advantage over that terror; however, through the Vera Bradley Foundation for Breast Cancer. It helps fund some of the work being done by Dr. Sledge, so I went to him to get his medical opinion. It was a long drive and was utterly draining. When I walked in to see him, he was not at all what I expected. He was quiet and sweet - his tone was gentle and calming without being overly optimistic. He never indicated that this would be an easy journey; quite the opposite. After presenting both benefits and risks, he announced that he would save my baby and me, too. Almost 4 years later, I am so proud to announce that he was just elected to be the President of the American Society of Clinical Oncology. Congratulations Dr. Sledge for saving so many lives. We love you!

Read the story at verabradley.org »