Editor’s note: Susan Kleinberg is currently presenting her latest projection, "Tierra Sin Males," during the opening week of the 2009 Venice Biennale at the Telecom Italia Future Centre in the exquisite 16th Century Cloister of San Salvador. Roughly 13 years ago, Dr. Holly Andersen, who is dual board certified in Internal Medicine and Cardiology, examined the young talent and felt a large tumor growing inside her abdomen. Here, Dr. Andersen shares Susan Kleinberg’s inspiring story. Click here to visit Susan’s website.

I met Susan Kleinberg the week before Christmas 1996. She was en route home to Los Angeles after just completing a show in Berlin and being the American artist in residence in Venice. A friend asked if I could see her for some cold-like symptoms she was experiencing. Susan was a young, bright, energetic woman with piercing, active brown eyes who looked well. As so many people do in the midst of the December holidays, she complained of a non-productive cough and an occasional low-grade fever. But she also commented that she had not felt herself since September. She saw a doctor in Spain and another in Italy; no one found anything. She completed a course of antibiotics, but it hadn’t helped. She also told me that she was feeling much better now, and that she was "sorry for bothering" me. Before examining her, we chatted briefly about her work; I quickly realized how acclaimed she was. Ironically, I commented how it must be strange to be such a famous artist while still alive.

As I examined her, we continued our conversation. She was excited to be going home, excited for the holidays; she had many new ideas for future projects. Her blood pressure was fine, her chest was clear; her heart exam was normal, except for an increased heart rate, which concerned me a little. And then I felt her belly. It looked normal, but it felt as hard as my desk – her entire abdomen felt like a slab of wood. Understanding its ominous meaning, my heart sank – I really liked this woman. Why her? Why now? I couldn’t believe what I had just said to her. Without trying to change my demeanor, I asked her if she had noticed anything unusual about her belly.  Her appetite was less, but she was eating well and hadn’t lost weight. She did notice she had lost the curvature of her waist, but didn’t think much of it. Wow – this woman had a tumor growing throughout her entire abdomen and had only noticed that!

I did blood work on her and then had her come into my office. I love my job, but sometimes it is no fun at all – sometimes, it is devastatingly hard. I told Susan that we needed to do a CT scan to evaluate her abdomen. Now she was scared. We got it done the very next morning — our fears were realized – she had an enormous sarcoma extending through her entire abdomen. This was bad, real bad. I had her in the office of a colleague of mine who specialized in this type of cancer that afternoon. Due to her insurance, however, Susan had to return to California for treatment. I knew treatment to save her life meant surgery, and I was furious that the surgery was being delayed because of some breathing difficulties she was experiencing. I told her California doctors, "She can’t breathe because the tumor is growing and compressing her chest! Operate on her." They finally did, and then she went through brutal "adjuvant" therapy. But she lived. She lived. And she got better and stronger and started working again. 

Focusing on courage, she created "Fear Not," which was featured in the 2001 Venice Biennale.

"Fear Not" was a video and audio installation of interviews about courage. Susan interviewed people from all walks of life: from General Norman Schwarzkopf to Gore Vidal, from Venetian fish sellers to American domestic workers. She interviewed Evelyn Lauder, Spalding Gray, Madeleine Albright and Bill Clinton. And she interviewed me. Our reunion, now years after that fateful, cold December day, was emotional. "Fear Not" was critically celebrated. Susan Kleinberg was back — strong, healthy, provocative and again prolific.