Estimated read time: 5-6 minutes
This archived news story is available only for your personal, non-commercial use. Information in the story may be outdated or superseded by additional information. Reading or replaying the story in its archived form does not constitute a republication of the story.
Caroline Campbell had a sense the news would be bad even before she got the test results.
"I know I have it. It's just an inner feeling," she recalled telling a close friend.
Campbell was right. The lump in her right breast was cancer. The swollen lymph nodes in her armpit were a sign of the cancer setting out to kill her.
When her doctor confirmed her fears, the 39-year-old headed home trembling, her emotions bouncing all over the place.
OAS_AD('Button20'); She took stock of her life - the successful career as a hairdresser, the legacy of hard work, all the women she had helped look and feel their best and the friendships that came from that. There was also the wild side - she was the woman with the long blond hair wearing tight jeans and leather roaring down the highway on her celery-green Harley-Davidson, the rebel daughter who drove her mother, a veteran nurse, to fits.
But Campbell, who is known to many for her startling good looks and her down-to-earth demeanor, couldn't help but focus on what was still missing, all she had yet to do or be.
"Oh my God, I have no kids," she thought. "What about my cat? My horse is 33 years old. I got her when she was four."
Word traveled quickly through Campbell's wide circle of friends in Orangevale, Fair Oaks and beyond. Campbell was terrified and worried.
"I didn't think it was possible, and I thought the doctors had made an error," said Adele Barsotti, an interior designer and longtime client who visits Campbell weekly. "I was shocked because she exercises every day and looks so healthy."
Then, after the initial shock, something magical happened. Her friends showed up, one by one and in groups of three and four. They called, knocked on her door, dropped in at the salon. They wrapped their arms around her and cried with her. When she opened her door in the morning, she would find flowers and gifts. When she walked to the mailbox, there were cards and checks.
Now, after hearing of prescription costs and her prospect of missing weeks of work, Campbell's friends are holding a fundraiser Saturday. Hundreds of people are expected, many of them coming for the motorcycle "poker run."
"I was totally blown away," Campbell said upon learning of the event. "Every day feels like Christmas."
Campbell's illness came only months after she bought health insurance for the first time in her adult life. A sole proprietor who rents a chair at Salon Nouveau in Fair Oaks, Campbell had always balked at the high cost of such insurance. She settled on a plan that has her pay a $1,750 deductible up front every January and then $116 a month.
"All of a sudden, I felt like I was getting my life together and was being responsible," she said.
By January, that insurance really mattered. First came the diagnosis. Then came chemotherapy. She'll have radiation and surgery. Campbell's trademark hair fell out the day after Valentine's Day.
When she went to the drugstore, she learned that a week's worth of pills to offset the nausea of chemotherapy would cost $859 - almost none of it covered.
"I had my worst week ever last week when I really wanted to kill myself," she said. "It was too much all at once. My hair fell out and I gained weight and I was throwing up all the time."
Then her close friend, Wendy Cervantez, showed up with a shaved head - her long, blond hair gone, too.
"I felt I should shave my head to let her know you can be beautiful without hair," said Cervantez, 37, who also came up with the idea for the fundraiser.
"She dared to be different, and people saw an adventurous spirit in her that they admired," said Judy Sheets, owner of Salon Nouveau.
A recent weekday afternoon found a weary Campbell doing what she knows best - standing behind a seated client, highlighting hair and talking about life and loves and everything under the sun. Working, she says, keeps her mind off cancer and chemo.
"It's one of my favorite things to do," said Campbell with a smile. "I'll work today till I drop. I don't look at the clock. When I'm done, I'm done."
Moments later, she smiled and added, "I'm feeling good mentally, but physically I'm losing gas."
Campbell turns heads when she walks into a room "but at the same time she's totally nonthreatening," said Mimi Salazar, who has known Campbell since they were in the third grade.
"A lot of people love her, and it's impossible not to get attached to her," said Barsotti. "Even my family in Italy adores her."
But Campbell's recent busy afternoon at the salon took its toll.
"By the time she got home, she called me: 'Mom, my whole body is killing me,' " said Marianne Hauss. "I told her she can't work the whole day, but it's very difficult for her to accept. She loves the profession and her customers adore her."
As for the fundraiser, Hauss says the support has given her daughter an emotional boost.
"It has been amazing to see how much love she has received and how much I have received," she said.
Campbell says she plans to beat the cancer and get on with her life. She has already worked out how long it will take to grow her signature blond hair to its former length.
"18 months," she said with a mix of tears and a smile. Then she pulled off her cap and rubbed her scalp.
To see more of the Sacramento Bee, or to subscribe, go to http://www.sacbee.com
Copyright 2004 Sacramento Bee. All Rights Reserved.
