Mimi Santos San Pedro

Fashion-forward Mimi San Pedro's business has a product to help many women.  Her experiences have been a great teacher.

REPRINTED FROM THE ARKANSAS DEMOCRAT-GAZETTE

Sunday, August 22, 2004

by Helaine R. Freeman

Just a look around her pleasant, spacious office — located in a modern office building in Little Rock’s Hillcrest neighborhood — shows what kind of person Mimi San Pedro is. Colorful Oaxacan figurines, by Francisco Hernandez Cruz, hold court along with other funky modern art and numerous pictures of San Pedro with her family and friends.

Commanding special attention are two black-and-white photos residing in one frame. Both are of San Pedro, who is holding a chain attached to a light-bulb fixture. In the first photo, she is wearing a hat. In the second photo, the hat is off and she is bald. The smile on her face in both pictures is the smile of one who has triumphed over adversity — in her case, breast cancer.

In person, the petite and smartly dressed San Pedro once again sports the dark cropped hairdo she wore before her illness. She’s friendly, open, funny — qualities that blend into a fitting overlay for her smarts, her shrewdness, her powers of persuasion.

It’s easy to see why she was tapped to be president of ContourMed, the young company whose product — a revolutionary breast form for breast-cancer patients who have had mastectomies — is making waves throughout the world. It’s also easy to see why San Pedro was tapped to be general chairman of the third annual Runway For A Cause. The special fashion show is designed to raise money for breast cancer awareness and "survivor support through education."

About 900 guests are expected at the Clear Channel Metroplex Event Center on Sept. 23 for the 11:30 a.m. luncheon and show. Forty breast-cancer survivors will model clothing from area retailers: Barbara Graves Intimate Fashions, New Traditions, B. Barnett, Vesta’s, Elle and others.

San Pedro has also modeled for the event. "It’s a fashion show, but it’s also like, ‘I have survived, dang it! I’m here, I look good, I survived — look at me,’" she says. "Doing it, myself, that’s what I felt like. I didn’t walk out that runway feeling like, ‘Look at my clothes, don’t I look cute.’ I think that the whole thing’s all about celebration of survivorship."

Runway for a Cause, which grows bigger each year, is expected to exceed its 2004 goal of $75,000. Tickets are $40 each, or $400 for a table. Proceeds go to three organizations: The Arkansas Affiliate of the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation; Baptist Health Women’s Resource Center; and Encore Plus. The show serves as a precursor event to the Oct. 9 Komen Race for the Cure "and also is another reason for survivors to celebrate," San Pedro says.

A native of the Philippines, San Pedro also celebrates her residency in the state that she has called home since she was a teenager. And she celebrates the fact that ContourMed was founded here. "Could you ever imagine Arkansas having a breast factory?" she asks, with excitement in her voice. "I mean, you know? Could you imagine? My competitors out there are global companies. Their factories are in Europe. We’re made in the USA and in Arkansas. We have to be very proud of that."

Among all the things lying about San Pedro’s office, these forms are the most noticeable. They’re very realistic... realistic enough to cause a blush or two. San Pedro, however, has no qualms about showing them off and demonstrating how they work.

"Most breast forms, before we started, felt like this." She takes a featureless, pale-pink sample and allows a couple of visitors to hold it. It’s soft to the touch, but quite heavy.

"Here’s our breast form today." She picks up the ContourMed product, first introduced in July 2001, and lets the visitors feel how light it is. Silicone outside and foam inside, it is indeed quite light. "Can you imagine doing this every day — this, compared to this?" she asks, turning back to the old form. "Can you imagine wearing it daily? ... In the past, before ContourMed, this was the only choice [mastectomy patients] had. And in the past it came in this color, and [a] dark color — sometimes not." Even Caucasian skin comes in different shades, San Pedro points out.

"And sure, manufacturers like these people say, ‘It doesn’t really matter does it? It’s inside your bra.’ But yes, to me it does. ... I’m the one that looks down there, you know, when I try to get dressed. I’m the one that thinks about it. So yes — it matters." San Pedro then displays swatches of the wide palette of skin hues in which the forms can be made. "People are all these colors," she says. "We deal with Caucasian women, Latin American women, African-American women, Asian-American women — breast cancer is not discriminating."

The forms are made with the help of a 3-D scanner, about the size of a textbook, with which the company salespeople travel. The scanner is hooked to a laptop computer. If the patient had a single mastectomy, ContourMed will try to match the still-existing breast in every minute detail. "It’s never going to be a breast, but it’s as close as we can get with a prosthesis."

The intact breast of the patient, as it fits in a well-fitting bra, is scanned. ContourMed’s software flips that image to make the form. Also scanned is the surface of the patient’s chest wall in the spot where the cancerous breast was removed. The back of the form contours to the chest wall. "So it fits them like a puzzle," San Pedro says. She shows the various hills and valleys on the back of the form. It’s a marriage of high technology and individual craft work, she says.

The program sprang from the University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences’ Bioventures effort, which funds, supports and encourages inventors at UAMS. ContourMed was one of the first companies to emerge from this incubator program. The product was developed by L. Daniel Eaton, a board-certified ocularist (a technician who custom makes artificial eyes). Eaton’s realistic-looking work so impressed a patient — also a breast cancer survivor — that she asked him to make a breast form for her also, San Pedro says.

"This is the breast form that breast-cancer survivors design for themselves because it is their input that... comes into play every day to improve this breast form to work for their lifestyle," San Pedro says. "It’s all about lifestyle. And it’s all about self-esteem, self-confidence."

Many ContourMed form users are young and active. The forms can be worn while swimming, running, hot tubbing, playing golf, playing tennis or gardening. A special feature, ContourMed Advantage, combines magnets and adhesive discs to enable a user to actually attach the form to her chest wall.

"You can’t run in this," San Pedro says of the old form. "You can’t swim in this. You can’t play tennis, you can’t garden with this heavy breast form."

Celebrating its third anniversary, ContourMed has more than 135 distributors in more than 35 states. The company boasts a staff of 12. Four are salesmen who go all over the country. They go to some select exhibits and trade shows and visit doctors and support groups to raise awareness of the product. They write articles telling people there are better options and also conduct educational programs.

It’s a difficult business in that people generally don’t pay attention to this kind of product until they need it, San Pedro says. So they target not just survivors but "as many women as possible."

Marketing the product is a continuation, of sorts, from San Pedro’s previous career in public relations. The ambition and drive she displayed then is still there... just in a different arena.

COMING TO AMERICA

One of three children born to Nonie and Crispin San Pedro (her father is now deceased), she accompanied her family to the United States at the age of 13. What brought them? "Opportunity," she replies. President turned-dictator Ferdinand E. Marcos had declared martial law in the Philippines. It’s a time that still haunts San Pedro.

"Americans are forgetful about how good they have it," she says. She cherishes the "freedom to say, ‘You know what? I don’t like that George W.,’ and be OK [afterward]. And not live in the environment that you say one thing about the dictator and you’re hauled to jail. I always say that was my Bosnia. Or that’s my Baghdad."

However, San Pedro was not thrilled at having to move at that particular stage in her life. She would advise parents to "never, never, never move a teenager."

The family initially moved to St. Louis, where an aunt lived. But that city was a bit too big for them, she says. Another aunt, a physician, lived in Little Rock and had children, who were the same ages as San Pedro, her brother and her sister. "We came and visited July the Fourth, and never left Arkansas."

San Pedro went on to attend St. Edwards Catholic School and Mount St. Mary’s, which she describes as "the best Catholic women’s school in the world." In 1983, she graduated from the University of Arkansas at Little Rock with a bachelor’s degree in computer science.

Afterward, San Pedro studied for the certified public accountant exam, toyed with the idea of attending law school, and looked for a job. She soon realized she would need references. She thought of Steve Holcomb, whose wife was a friend of hers.

A partner in the advertising firm Mangan Rains Ginnaven Holcomb, Steve Holcomb had been trying to get San Pedro to enter the marketing field. When she called him and asked if she could use him as a job reference, "He said, ‘Sure, but that’s not free in America.’ He knew exactly who he was talking to. And I said, ‘OK, what would it take?’ He says, ‘You’re going to have to work for me part time.’ I said, ‘OK.’

"I think it was both a challenge to me from him, and also more of a ‘Come here and see what I’ve been talking to you about.’"

San Pedro found that the business and its environment were a wonderful fit for her personality. A month after she started at Mangan Rains, a permanent position came open. She applied for it and became the agency’s traffic manager. She stayed in the post 2 1/2 years and began harboring dreams of becoming an account executive.

One of Mangan Rains’ clients was hired by another agency to start a financial department at what was then Worthen National Bank. San Pedro was recruited to be an assistant. She was there for nine months, the duration of the venture.

Then, Worthen went into a search for a new advertising agency and hired Resneck, Stone Ward & Associates (now known simply as Stone Ward). San Pedro, meanwhile, had become friends with some of Worthen’s marketing directors; impressed with her abilities, they recommended her to the agency.

It hired her. San Pedro had become an account executive.

It was during those days that she impressed Ron Robinson — the now-retired chairman and chief executive officer of Cranford Johnson Robinson Woods — as "a very tenacious and successful competitor."

In fact, he had the chance to hire San Pedro, "and probably should have," Robinson adds. "It’s very hard to outwork and outthink Mimi [on] anything."

For the past five years, the two have been friends. "One reason why Mimi is so full of life is because she almost lost it," Robinson says. He recites an old saying that if one can win in adversity one can win anywhere. "Mimi is living proof of that."

Kay Cook, another advertising /public relations veteran, also has some admiring adjectives for San Pedro: Honest. Dependable. Trustworthy. "Qualities that I appreciated in her as a co-worker and as a friend," she says. Cook recalls San Pedro’s valuable help with such community fund-raisers as Tabriz, the biennial Arkansas Arts Center auction, and Race for the Cure.

San Pedro’s popularity, she adds, is such that "no matter what you need she knows someone who can make it happen for you."

In 2001, San Pedro ended a 14-year career with Stone Ward. She had attained the title of executive vice president and director of account services.

But it was the year before that she discovered she had breast cancer.

FOREWARNED, FOREARMED
The first sign was the lump she felt in her right breast while in the shower.

"The thing that really, really tipped me off is when, a month after, it grew," San Pedro says. "But if you just listen to your body, it tells you what is wrong. And I already knew what it was."

She went to get a mammogram, for which she’d gone annually since the age of 34, and told her doctor about the lump. She also underwent an ultrasound. It was thought that the lump was merely a cyst, however and she was referred to a breast surgeon.

The surgeon also didn’t suspect breast cancer. He showed her that her mammogram and ultrasound images did not look the same as those of someone with breast cancer. "‘But because [the lump is] there and it’s bothering you, let’s take it out,’" she remembers him staying. "I said, ‘OK.’ ‘Let’s take it out this Friday,’ he said. [I said,] ‘OK, you can’t take it out this Friday. It’s my birthday. But, I’ll see you next Friday.’"

The lumpectomy proceeded as planned. When she woke up in the recovery room, she saw her doctor, instead of a nurse, standing at her bedside. "When a doctor is facing you, they usually have some news to tell you," San Pedro says. "And it’s usually not good news.

"And when he said, ‘It is cancer,’ the first thing out of my mouth was, ‘I already knew. Can I have a Diet Coke?’"

The oversight, San Pedro knows, is not an isolated incident. She has talked to women all over the country who were either misdiagnosed or diagnosed later than they should have been. But she is not placing blame.

"You have to understand that doctors are human," she says. "If I make a mistake here, I can just make you another breast form, right? If my doctors make a mistake, it’s a life-and-death situation. But they make mistakes, I mean, everybody does. It’s unfortunate.

"That’s why when you have any kind of affliction — anything — you have to be a participant in your care. You have to ask questions; you have to do some research on the Internet; you have to get second opinions — you have to participate. I always say managed care is about managing your own care."

The next step for San Pedro: a two and a half-hour counseling session on post-surgery treatment options and her chances of survivorship with each. Her mother and roommate were there with her for support. "I looked at my mother and, mother and I, all we did was say, ‘When am I going to lose my hair?’ Which is the least important thing to worry about — the least important thing! And that’s all we asked."

But San Pedro ultimately decided to undergo 10 months of chemotherapy, followed by seven weeks of radiation. The chemotherapy, of course, did cost her her hair. "But that was OK." She chose to wear hats in lieu of wigs.

In addition to her positive attitude and keen sense of humor, San Pedro was blessed with a group of girlfriends who were very supportive.

Her chemotherapy treatments took place every third Thursday. Her roommate, who stayed with her throughout the treatment, had to return to work on Friday. So San Pedro, always the planner, asked her girlfriends to take Friday off to "baby-sit" her while she recovered from the treatment. The women took turns doing so.

"But they didn’t come in and ask about the disease and how I felt," San Pedro says. "They came in with a plan for the day, like it’s a normal day." Well, a normal fun day. With activities that included meeting the other women for lunch and a gossip session. Going shopping. Seeing a movie. Having a toenail-painting session at her home. Whatever she felt up to.

"It’s so easy to kind of crawl in the middle of that bed and just put the blankets over your head," San Pedro says. "But it’s another thing if your girlfriend’s coming and she wants to take you to Dillard’s. You’ve got to get ready, you know?

"You’re not going to believe this. After the third chemotherapy, I was looking forward to chemo."

It was the radiation that was hard for her.

"Chemotherapy is, you get chemo Thursday, you feel bad on Friday, you feel horrible Saturday and Sunday, you start getting back feeling better on Monday, you feel good on Tuesday, and then you feel good — until the next chemotherapy. Radiation is a cumulative effect. You go every day... and you just wake up one day and you are completely exhausted, can’t think straight. ... You get up, you get ready, you go to work, you can’t remember anything....”

But then, it, too, was over. "And then I turned 40." Her girlfriends threw her a party on the anniversary of the day she’d had her surgery. It was part birthday party, part celebration of her survivorship.

Each invitation, done by the creative team at Stone Ward, was accordion-folded and depicted all the hats she had worn during her treatment process. At the end of the accordion was her picture. It bore the words, "Hats off."

"Like, it’s over. It’s over. It’s over," San Pedro emphasizes.

But it also marked a beginning.

"When you go through something like that, there is somebody upstairs that says, ‘Now what are you gonna do about it? I gave you a reason to think about your life, and I gave you the ability to get over it. Now what are you gonna do about it?’ ... You have to pause and think, ‘OK. I’m going to have to change something.’"

What did she change? "Everything," she says. What emerged was "my need for something meaningful in my life.... The need for building and ensuring that my relationships are solid with my family and friends. And finding something that [utilizes] my talent, my experiences, my energy, my skills. Something that I could give back."

Enter ContourMed

A friend, Linus Raines, called one day and told San Pedro about a startup business that had emerged from the University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences and served breast-cancer survivors. Raines described the business as a "fascinating" venture and said it was looking for management personnel. Raines asked her to have lunch with Watt Gregory, a lawyer and a member of the company’s board of directors. San Pedro did as her friend suggested and was subsequently hired as vice president of sales and marketing. In June 2001, after a three-week spiritual trip to Bali, she began her new career. Three years later — on April 1 — she was promoted to president.

"I think if there’s one word to describe Mimi San Pedro, it’s a dynamo," Gregory says. "She’s energetic, dedicated, passionate, driven," especially when it comes to problem solving and leadership. "She seeks the root of the problem, cuts away the chaff, ... applies her particular brand of zeal and solves the problem. That’s what I like about Mimi."

AWARD WINNERS
These qualities have paid off for the company. Since its inception, ContourMed has won several awards, including the international Medical Design Excellence Award (MDEA) and a national Silver Anvil Award for its public-relations program.

San Pedro has been racking up a few honors herself. In 2003, she was named one of the Yoplait 25 Champions in the Fight Against Breast Cancer.

The honor, sponsored by the yogurt company, the Komen Foundation and Self magazine, was humbling for her. "I’m not worthy," San Pedro says. "These people have done so much. They do so much. I make a breast form."

Making them — and promoting them — is a job that takes San Pedro on the road three to four days a week. When home, she attends Our Lady of the Holy Souls Catholic Church, which her nephews and nieces also attend, and also serves as a board member for the foundation of the Central Arkansas Radiation Therapy Institute. The unmarried San Pedro parents several dogs and cats and loves to travel — "to appreciate where I am today."

And where she is today is a long way away from where she was four years ago. As a breast cancer patient comes to understand her illness and the necessary treatments she is going through, "you understand that you are not going to die," San Pedro says. "But you also understand that it is a life-changing event that you are in, and that you have to do something about it. Or not. You don’t have to. But it begs for you to.

"You know what I mean? It just begs for you to."

For more information contact:
Mimi San Pedro, President
ContourMed, Inc.
501.907.0530
msanpedro@contourmed.com