Q: Cancer and cartoons would seem to make strange bedfellows. And yet, when you were diagnosed with cancer, you began drawing panels documenting your experience and treatment. Did drawing help you understand your feelings about breast cancer?

A: First of all, I never thought I’d ever get cancer. Ever. Who does? I was really healthy, eating right and exercising a lot. So, breast cancer never really crossed my mind.

Drawing helped me understand my feelings about life. In the exact moment I was diagnosed with breast cancer, my carefree, fashion-obsessed New York City life had ceased to exist as I had known it. It’s like the planet came to a screeching halt, time stood still and I felt like I was sucked into a Black Hole. My priorities shifted, and what was important to me suddenly became inconsequential. My life was in jeopardy. I didn’t want my time on the planet to end just yet. So my number one priority was taking control of my life, cutting out everything and anything that could possibly cause cancer, and looking forward to all the reasons to live and focusing on leading a healthy life. Besides, I was getting married in three weeks for the first time at 43!

Also, the act of drawing calms me down. It’s actually a nervous habit as well as my occupation. I always have a pen in my hand and I’m always drawing. I used to have a cigarette in my hand, (I quit ten years ago thank God!) but I found the more I smoked, the less I drew. Having a pen in my hand is healthier and more productive.

Q: In the beginning of Cancer Vixen, you depict yourself as a savvy New York fashionista, “caught up in the superficial stuff.” Did this journey change that at all?

A: Yes. Yes. Yes. In the same way that 9/11 changed me and the rest of the country, at least for a while. Breast cancer was a slap in the face from Father Time. I became acutely conscious of how finite my life is, and what I’d like to focus my energy on.

I was completely consumed with clothes and shoes as a way to get attention and I definitely dressed competitively. I live in downtown New York City, the heart of the fashionista capital of the world. Everything is about getting the better bag, the better shoe, the better table, you know, all the “important” things in life. Back then, fashion was a game of one-upmanship for me.

Now I dress as a way to make me feel better. While I was going through chemotherapy, I didn’t want to focus on the IV in my hand, so I’d look down at my feet and give myself a little shoe therapy. My thought was, yeah, this needle sucks, but what a pretty pair of shoes.

Q: You were 43 years old and 3 weeks away from finally marrying the man of your dreams when you were diagnosed with breast cancer. Did you worry that you might lose him?

A: After a lifetime of being single, I, a self-described terminal bachelorette was about to marry the man I’ve waited all my life for, Silvano Marchetto. My cartooning career was on track. I felt pretty good about myself. For once everything was looking up.

And then I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

Naturally, I was frightened. I’ve heard horror stories of men leaving their women when they have a serious illness. On top of that, Silvano is a celebrity chef and restaurateur. He owns Da Silvano, a star-studded restaurant in Greenwich Village. It’s populated by A-listers and fabulistas, some of whom were hitting on him right in front of me, his fidanzata (that’s “fiancé” in Italian.) What would happen when the world’s most beautiful women were making a play for Silvano while I was going down the unknown road of surgery, treatments, possibly losing my hair, gaining weight and maybe not looking or feeling so good? That really worried me. Would he still want to marry me?

Q: How did your relationship with your family, especially your (S)mother, change after you were diagnosed with breast cancer?

A: My (S)mother is the driving force in my life. I love her for that.

My (S)mother is the driving force in my life. It drives me crazy.

There’s a point in the book where her pushy, domineering, intrusive nature really comes in handy. Literally. It’s ironic how the thing that annoys you most about someone can be the very thing you wind up appreciating in that person.

If I didn’t have cancer, I never would have had that time with my mother. I wouldn’t have seen her forget her health problems and be the one who was really there for me, especially when I needed her the most. I’m thankful that I had the chance to spend the time with her, regardless of the cancer circumstances.

I’d like to add that it has strengthened my marriage. Silvano could have gone for the girl who had the best legs or the best breasts, but instead he married someone who had breast cancer. That made me realize another side of him and it made me feel more secure in the marriage.

One thing my getting cancer did was made me more aware of is how prevalent breast cancer really is. It can and often does strike within the same family. In fact, my sister Dina had better get a mammogram. I’m calling her right now.

Q: In Cancer Vixen, you write, “Cartoonists don’t just sit there and draw out of their heads. Some of us are reporters. I go out on assignments like a regular reporter, except I write and draw my stories in comic strip form, which is called reportage.” How did you become a cartoonist/reporter?

A: It first started in November 1999, when the New Yorker asked me to go into the New York Knicks dressing room before and after the game and report about it in comic book form. Then I started getting calls from the New York Times. They hired me to create a recurring comic strip entitled The Strip, which ran in the Sunday Styles section for almost a year.

I’ve always consider myself to be a cartoonist/anthropologist/documentarian anyway, so it came naturally to me. I love observing people, or maybe I’m just nosy.

Q: You very openly and fearlessly say in this book, “Cancer, I am going to kick your butt! And I’m going to do it in killer five-inch heels!” How did you keep your spirits up? Were there any times throughout this experience when you did feel like a victim?

A: I felt like a victim when I was diagnosed with breast cancer three months after my insurance elapsed. That’s right, I didn’t have insurance. I’m a freelancer. I had insurance through the Writer’s Guild of America. When it was about to expire, I called them and they referred me to another insurance carrier. I called and called the carrier, who didn’t call me back. Then life just took over and I dropped the ball. It was my own fault, and I was a victim of my own stupidity. That was something I could point to and say, ok, that was an epic screw-up. Luckily, when I got married I was able to go on my husband’s plan.

What if I weren’t so lucky?

I did the math. The grand total from the first sonogram to the last radiation treatment and everything in between added up to a whopping $192,720.04.

There’s an even higher cost: Women who are without health insurance have a 49% greater risk of dying from breast cancer.

That fact comes straight from The National Breast Cancer Foundation.

Having insurance can mean the difference between life and death. That’s why I’m giving a percentage of the proceeds from Cancer Vixen to provide breast care for unprivileged women at the Comprehensive Cancer Center affiliated with St. Vincent’s Hospital in Manhattan. I’m also doing the same for The Breast Cancer Research Foundation.

Ok, excuse me while I have a little wardrobe change. I’m taking off the white collar and black robe now, and slipping on my jeans and my sweater: the one with the rhinestone studded skull with Mickey Mouse ears that makes fun of the face of death. It’s my favorite sweater and it was designed by John Richmond.

Q: You reached out to some pretty unorthodox sources for support after your diagnosis: the Kaballah Centre, a psychic hotline, a holistic doctor. What ultimately helped you the most and what recommendations would you make to others who are staring down this disease?

A: Cancer is war. I knew I needed to arm myself to fight this disease. My strategy was to attack it from four different angles:

1. The attack from a physical angle: I wanted to get rid of the toxic cancer in my body. How would I do that? It was a search to find the right doctors. I tried to be open to whatever information came my way and actually went to a holistic Oncologist. There are a lot of charlatans out there, and he was one of them. I didn’t enlist him in my personal army.

2. The attack from a spiritual angle: I wanted to get rid of the toxic thoughts in my head. I went to The Kaballah Centre (after a little arm twisting from my friend Lisa and my very Catholic mother) and began to take responsibility for my thoughts and actions.

Also, there is the law of cause and effect. If you think that taking hormones may result in a problem or tumors 20 years later, don’t take them. Or if you’re concerned about the hormones in dairy, drink organic milk. I wanted to keep whatever’s toxic out of my body as much as possible.

I also leaned on my psychic, I admit it. I found Dr. Nikki on a hotline. She was a drill sergeant who has two doctorates, so she’s a tough and brilliant at the same time.

3.The attack from an emotional angle: I wanted to get rid of my toxic relationships. I weeded out the people who weren’t good for me, and seeded the relationships that were.

My family and friends were there for me 24/7. It was important for me to have a support group.

4. The attack from a mental angle: I wanted to stay active and not give into a toxic woe is me depression. How I did that was I always tried to have something to look forward to. Before the lumpectomy, I looked forward to getting married. Before chemo, I looked forward to having a honeymoon. During chemo and radiation, I focused on my Glamour deadline for Cancer Vixen. Having a goal always propelled me forward. The busier I was, the more my mind was off me.

I also forced myself to not let it slow me down. Which is easier for me to say, because I didn’t have the heavier chemo. Many women—many patients—have an even tougher road than the one I was on.

Lastly, I realized something interesting—that a little bit of denial can be a good thing. The more I focused on my upcoming marriage and my Glamour deadline, the less I worried about my health. The less I worried about my health, the healthier I became. I’m convinced that’s one of the reasons I did OK.

Today I’ve kept my spirits up is by staying on top of my health situation. It eliminates guessing and worrying and all that fear about whether you’re ok or not. Part of staying alive means getting the necessary check-ups. Include vigilance on the list of artillery.

Q: Ultimately, this is a very optimistic view of being diagnosed with and treating cancer. Do you think you were an optimist before and would you call yourself one now? Do you feel that optimism played a role in your recovery?

A: Right now my negativity is in remission, and it’s a constant battle to remain a healthy optimist.

When I first saw the tumor on the print out from the sonogram, I thought it looked like a black hole. When breast specialist Dr. Christopher Mills took a look at it, he thought it resembled the size of a large pearl. That struck me as something very revealing about the way I had seen the world up to that point—I would always go to that negative space.

The Kaballists look at the worst situations as one’s biggest opportunity for growth. So, from the very beginning I was determined to plant the seed of health and positivity. That attitude has taken root, and so far, it’s worked. Today, I’m cancer-free.

In many ways, believe it or not, I look at the whole experience as something positive. It made me a better person, a better wife, a better daughter, a better stepmother, a better sister, a better friend, and ultimately led me to a better life.

Q: Your book also deals with life in the real world, and how women treat each in competitive environments (like the New Yorker, Da Silvano). Breast cancer seems to be a disease that brings women together. Did your attitude towards this competitiveness and rivalry change at all as a result of the disease?

A: As a writer and cartoonist, I am obsessed with women and their evolving power base in the world, and how they use or abuse their power. That’s kind of my beat.

When I was dating Silvano, I definitely was threatened by the competition at Da Silvano, but now I’m amused. Partly because I’m married, and mostly because of the perspective I’ve gotten from the whole cancer experience.

Breast cancer is a disease that brings women together, but it’s also an arena for competition as well. After a portion of what became Cancer Vixen was published in Glamour, I actually read somewhere on a breast cancer website that some women who had the heavier chemo didn’t think I suffered enough. Before I would really let that get to me, and now it’s easier for me to let it go.

I also realize that this is a disease that strikes 1 on every 8 women, and we’re all vulnerable. So I try to exercise compassion.

But if any of them hit on Silvano, they’re next in line for a kick in the butt right behind The Grim Reaper.

Q: You wore different shoes to every chemo appointment. I have to ask: What’s your favorite pair?

A: Whenever I walk by a shoe store like Christian Louboutin or Giuseppe Zanotti and spot a pair, that will be my favorite pair—the shoes I don’t have! Some things never change.

Q: What do you want your readers to get out of Cancer Vixen?

A: I wrote Cancer Vixen with an objective: to help me and help people who were touched by this disease.

My biggest lesson was that life is worth fighting for, and the worst thing that can happen to you can be your biggest opportunity.