The Sisterhood
Article by Susan Pierce
Vicki Kovaleski wanted to say a big "Thank you" to the women friends who had been there for her during treatment for breast cancer. These "worker bees" had helped fix meals for her family when she was worn out from chemotherapy treatments, and had provided friendly support in general from the time she was diagnosed, through mastectomy and throughout a difficult, draining year. "I have the personality where I hate people to do things for me. So I think the lesson I had to learn was to be able to say, 'Yes, you can help.' That's hard," Kovaleski says.
To express her gratitude, she picked up her brushes, mixed up some watercolors and set to work creating the "Sisterhood" series of paintings depicting scenes of women having fun just being around each other. This was a natural mode of expression for the Little Rock-based artist, who is an active member of the Mid-Southern Watercolorists and has exhibited her work around he country. Several of the "Sisterhood" watercolors have been reproduced for note cards sold to raise money for the Susan G. Koman Breast Cancer Foundation. "I told Susan G. Komen that I would earn $10,000 for them. I've written their first $5,000 check and now I'm on the way to getting them the second five," Kovaleski says. Orders have been coming from around the country thanks to the enthusiasm of an acquaintance.
"There's a little airline stewardess that works for American that's just selling them like hotcakes, all around the country. I get little notes from women." If you didn't know the underlying subject was cancer, you couldn't tell by first glance at the paintings- which was Kovaleski's intent. Nevertheless, "Sisterhood" is a "sort of journal through art," She says. Her story began – as breast cancer stories often do – with suspicious images on a mammogram in 1999. She requested that mammogram, even though there seemed to be no need for it. "I just knew something was wrong, felt something was wrong, just felt this kind of irritating feeling, but no lump," Kovaleski recalls. Three small masses showed up in her left breast. When her biopsy returned malignant, Kovaleski was devastated, even though she'd suspected something.
"I didn't have any choices that a lot of women have. Mine was, "You have to have a mastectomy' because if you have three different areas you can't take that chance." Chemotherapy followed soon thereafter, and by that time, one part of the sisterhood was already in place. "A friend of mine, Teresa Ossam, set up an e-mail system and she divided all my friends into groups," Kovaleski says. "She allowed them to get on the e-mail and she set up a calendar and they could see when I needed help. They all logged on, they'd meet each other, one would end up taking charge of they're group." There were eight groups in all, covering Kovaleski's activities in church, tennis, art and an investment club, among other interests. Some of these women wound up in the "Beach Ladies" painting of the "Sisterhood" set, depicting a relaxing vacation Kovaleski took with six friends a week before she started chemotherapy. Another of those friends showed up in a painting as a "queen" being crowned with a tiara. "I keep playing with images. That's the therapeutic fun part, where I just keep trying to think of how neat people can be."
Other "sisters" that Kovaleski met were breast cancer sufferers, who provided 'I know what you're going through" support. One in particular became a special friend. "The doctor called and said, " Would you mind meeting her? Because I think your personalities will match," Kovaleski remembers. "What I loved about Evelyn was that she made it a visual thing. She showed me her breast right away. I wasn't in her door two minutes and she was like, 'This is what it's going to look like.' I just went, 'Oh, I can live with that." These two and some other patients started getting together often. "We were goofing around one day trying on hats because we were all getting ready to start chemotherapy. I just said "Come over, let's play, and let's just try on hats all day," Kovaleski says. "I called a friend to help me with photographs. Then I started painting and having fun with that." Throughout her treatment, her art was valuable therapy. Whenever she had the energy, that is. "It was kind of sporatic. There were times that I was just so weak, to get up the steps, I would be out of breath. When I had days like that, I would just shut down," Kovaleski recalls.
"But then, when the burst would hit, I'd run up here and paint like, 'Is this going to end tomorrow?' But it was always under that pretense, 'How long will I feel good?'" Kovaleski has another dream – to continue and expand the sisterhood, with an e-mail system for notifying a specific group about women undergoing chemotherapy, so meals could be delivered to the treatment center. While being treated at the Central Arkansas Radiation Therapy Institute in Little Rock, Kovaleski realized that many patients and their families were driving from far away. Kovaleski notes, "When you have chemotherapy, it takes about four or five hours. You literally go inside and sit in a chair and they hok up the IV and you just sit there for five hours." She's working on maintaining her own health; a mass was detected in her right breast on a recent mammogram. It may be a fibrocystic tumor- she hopes. In the meantime, she's keeping mind and hands occupied with her art career. This fall, she'll send work to North Carolina for an exhibit; Kovaleski also teaches watercolor classes out of her home. "I'm very, very busy. It's a pretty full life," she says.