Survivors

Gwen Rodgers found out she had breast cancer at 25.

A simple sentence, but one that explodes with meaning and passion.

She had a lumpectomy, and then chemotherapy, and then radiation. Her hair fell out. But somehow, Rodgers pulled joy out of her experience. She found a beauty in her baldness and an elegant voice that wasn’t there before.

The freelance photographer began shooting photos of family and friends who had also battled breast cancer--her mother, her two grandmothers and myriad women in her new and growing network.

The result is a body of work she’s showing in galleries and hospitals, as well as a book she’s shopping to publishers.

In it, the San Francisco resident includes her own journals, of nightmares in which she goes to her own funeral, of night sweats that woke her at 4 a.m., of panics that she would be unable to bear children:

“I have few great fears in my life, one that I realized is very strong during my cancer experience. The inability to bear my own children is perhaps the greatest. I sometimes think that this primal instinct is truly why I was put on this earth,” she writes.

In black and white, the powerful words and images are deceptively plain and unadorned. Rodgers hopes they will guide others who may have “to unfortunately embark on this journey.”

At 27, she is considered cancer-free, her hair is growing back and she probably will be able to have children.

Here are some of the voices Rodgers gathered for her book:

Kharmen Roman, 28, diagnosis at 27: “Because of my surgeries, part of my arm was taken out, so I’ve lost some of my original mobility and strength, but it’s still functional and it’s still my arm, I can still use it. There’s just something missing even though it appears whole to everyone else. I compare this to my whole body, that there’s something missing and I’ve lost some of my original strength for a while.”

Georgiena Campbell, 63, kindergarten teacher, diagnoses at 57, 62 and 63: “My students heal me with their love, energy, curiosity and sweet, warm breath.”

Darryl Mahoney: “I think regardless of what your diagnosis is, you have to somehow find a way to heal yourself. The reality of this disease is that some are cured forever, some are cured for periods of time, but I believe you have to find a way to heal yourself whether you are cured or not.”

Carolyn Fichter: “The support group I went to for a while was very helpful because when people outside of the group found out I had breast cancer, they’d say things like, ‘We’re going to pray for you,’ and they’d send cards, but going to the support group was the first time I could really let my guard down and cry my eyes out.”

Deborah Collier, 35, diagnosis at 29: “Our entire society is so afraid of dying. We do everything to look as young as we can, and to be as healthy as we can. . . . Once you can finally accept the fact that you’re going to die . . . then you can focus on really living. It’s not an easy process, but it feels really good once you get through it.”

Sally Martin, 50, diagnoses at 40 and 47: “ ‘Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.’ We have a piece of calligraphy hanging in our home with this quote from ‘The Wizard of Oz.’ My husband and I bought it when we were living a carefree graduate student life. The quote gained a more poignant meaning when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. . . . Like others with breast cancer, I look for a fairy godmother or father in medical research who will hand me a pair of magic red slippers that I can click three times and return home safe and sound.”