As we wind down the end of October and Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I’ve heard a number of complaints that go so far as to say we should just forget Breast Cancer Awareness Month altogether because of all the pinkwashing.
What is pinkwashing? When corporate jerks slap a pink ribbon on a product or service to increase the likelihood it will sell during Breast Cancer Awareness Month, but little money, or even none, is actually forwarded on to the non-profits working to cure breast cancer or support those battling this disease.
Pinkwashing is infuriating. It turns my stomach that these corporate creeps are using my crisis to make a quick buck.
But let’s not throw the baby out with the bathwater.
In the seven months since my diagnosis, I’ve met so many women, both here in Seattle and out on the interwebs, who found their lump in October. They found it because of all the chatter, all the pink, all the hype caused them to pause and take a second look at their own breasts. Breast Cancer Awareness Month saves lives.
I recently attended a lecture on breast cancer where I learned, among other things, that the most exciting advances in all of cancer research are happening in the field of breast cancer. Life expectancy is improving every year. Komen for the Cure is second only to the US Government in funding this research. That means all those walks and all those fundraisers really are saving lives. So thank you to all of you who walk or donate. You are making a difference.
The Pink Daisy Project and the Young Survival Coalition also receive a large percentage of their funding during Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Rather than focusing on research, these organizations help women with breast cancer endure until we find a cure.
Both of these organizations have had a huge impact on my life. Imagination does not do justice to the financial and emotional devastation of a cancer diagnosis. When I was buried under a never-ending pile of housework that added up during treatment, and digging through the couch for change to buy diapers, the Pink Daisy Project took care of the practical concerns that come with battling cancer. They hired a house keeping service to help dig me out of the mess, and sent me grocery gift cards to buy the necessities of life. Each woman is helped in a way that meets their specific needs. They helped one young woman who was losing her battle with cancer to get family portraits before she passed away. It breaks my heart to think how much those photos meant.
The Young Survival Coalition (YSC) is saving my sanity. There are so many issues that come up for young women battling cancer that might be different for the 60 year old woman with breast cancer: parenting, early menopause, more aggressive cancers, higher mortality, sexuality, reconstruction, dating, marriage, fertility, pregnancy, and adoption just to name a few. Many YSC members were told by medical professionals that they were too young to have breast cancer. You can get breast cancer as soon as you hit puberty, and it is the leading cause of cancer death in women between the ages of 15 and 54. In addition to functioning as a support group for young women battling breast cancer, YSC is working to educate the public and the medical community about the growing number of women diagnosed so young, to encourage earlier diagnosis, and to better represent young women with breast cancer in the sample groups for medical trials.
Ending Breast Cancer Awareness Month would seriously impact the ability of these organizations to fund their good work. Sure, there is a buttload of money going into the pockets of corporate jerks that are just using us. But don’t let the fact that these corporate buttheads exist undo a good thing. Educate yourself. Take a close look at what you are buying. Does it just have a pink ribbon attached? Is there more information available about where the funds go – and how much? Remember even a penny is “a portion of the proceeds.”
Pay attention to what you are buying and Think Before You Pink. But lets keep Breast Cancer Awareness Month around for a while. We still need to cure this disease.
A marriage takes a lot of work; so does keeping a day job (or going to school), maintaining a home, and raising children. When you have cancer, there are times when the fight for your life takes more work than all of the above combined.
Since my diagnosis, I have been reaching out to women with cancer, both in the real world and online. One of the things that has surprised me the most is the number of relationships that have dissolved post diagnosis. It’s not one or two, it’s a lot.
Cancer and Marriage
Cancer adds a lot of stress to a marriage.
Every story is different. In some cases it was the person with cancer who left; in others, it was the co-survivor (what we call the spouse or partner of the person with cancer). They are all wildly different stories, and come from people leading different lives: from all different parts of the world, rich, poor, educated, uneducated, religious, non-religious. It’s tempting to be judgmental, but only the people in that relationship truly know their story. Let’s not pass judgment.
I’ve only been married for 6 years. I’ve only been married once. I’m not a marriage counselor. I don’t profess to have any special knowledge that would help others prevent or reverse marriage trouble, but I’ve witnessed a few things, experienced a few things, and had a few thoughts.
National statistics tell us that roughly half of all marriages in this country end in divorce. Those statistics are silent on the issue of cancer. Every relationship has its issues, and cancer doesn’t make those issues go away. In fact, there are times when cancer amplifies them. Cancer has a way of amplifying everything.
The one thing that has helped me maintain my sanity and perspective throughout this cancer ordeal is membership in a support group. I belong to the Young Survival Coalition which provides support for young women with breast cancer.
Our discussions in group are confidential, but I can tell you that at times they deal with issues in our relationships. A phrase came out at one of the meetings, and we’ve all been loving it and using it since: “You don’t go to the hardware store to get bread.” That one little phrase has been of immense help to me.
I love my husband. He is one of the most amazing people I have ever met. But I don’t expect him to be my everything. I have other people in my life: my daughter, my family, my friends, my support group. They all fill different roles, and provide support in different ways. And when I don’t expect my husband to fill the role of one of my girl friends, we get along much better. One of my friends in the support group told me: “We’ll be your bakery.”
When I unload in the group about cancer (where it is expected and appropriate) instead of unloading on my husband, we get along much better. That’s not to say I don’t tell my husband everything. He pretty much hears it all, but it’s not all at once. It’s not a deluge of problems and issues that I dump in his lap the moment he walks in the door. It’s not a bitch and whine session. It’s not constant complaining. I’ve already gotten that out of my system – dumped on the support group that completely understands what I’m going through. I already got my bread, so when I tell my husband what’s going through my head, or through my body, I can say things without that whiny tone in my voice or unrealistic expectations.
Does this have anything at all to do with the relationships that broke up? Maybe. Maybe not. I have no idea. Every relationship is different. Every person is different. This is just what helped me. Having a support group helps me be a better partner in our relationship. Believe it or not, I think practicing jiu-jitsu helps my husband be a better partner in our relationship. I’m sure other people have completely different activities that help them approach their relationship with more patience, compassion, and understanding.
I wish love, patience, compassion, and understanding could make a marriage bulletproof.
A cancer diagnosis teaches you not to take things for granted: your life, your health, your breasts, your hair. I’m adding relationships to that list.
For a more encouraging look at marriage and cancer, read my post The Promise.
Shortly after I was diagnosed with breast cancer, my baby lost two pounds. The breast had to go; I had to quickly wean a baby who was interested in eating nothing but breast milk. This weight loss was nearly as traumatic for me as the cancer diagnosis.
Then, I connected with the Young Survival Coalition (YSC) and met a group of women who understood exactly what I was going through. These women knew from experience how difficult it can be to balance treatment with parenting.
The Young Survival Coalition is an organization that supports pre-menopausal women who have breast cancer. Why a group that focuses just on the younger women with breast cancer?
Breast cancer in younger women tends to be more aggressive with a lower survival rate, and studies increasingly suggest that breast cancer in younger women is biologically different from the breast cancer that older women get.
Breast cancer is the leading cause of cancer death in women between the ages of 15 and 54.
Because fewer young women get breast cancer, they are not adequately represented in breast cancer research.
We have not yet developed an effective breast cancer screening tool for young women.
Young women deal with different issues than post-menopausal women: effects of treatment on fertility, child rearing, pregnancy after diagnosis, diagnosis during pregnancy, menopause caused by treatment, body image, dating for single women, the list goes on…
I’ve been through a lot in this cancer ordeal. I’m nearly halfway through the chemotherapy phase of my treatment, and that will be followed by radiation. The doctors are working to save my body, my friends at YSC have helped save my sanity. I can’t say enough wonderful things about this group of women and the support they provide.
One of the frustrations I’ve had to deal with because of this breast cancer is my lopsidedness. Getting dressed in the morning takes quite a bit more thought and planning than ever before. I wasn’t small breasted to start with, but thanks to my mastectomy I have a bouncy D-Cup that swings a little lower since breastfeeding, and a rock hard, absurdly high, almost A-cup.
To make matters a little more interesting, the mastectomy side is augmented by a saline implant called an expander. I periodically go in for expansions, which means they inject more saline into the implant. This is in preparation for reconstruction after I complete the cancer treatment, but the expansions have to be complete before I start radiation. As a result, the size and shape of my mastectomy side “breast” changes to frequently. I’ll wait till the size and shape stabilizes to invest in a prosthesis, in the meantime I’m stuffing my bra with socks.
Yeah, you read that right. I’m stuffing my bra with socks. How very seventh grade. But at least in junior high they were both the same size, I wasn’t trying to make different sizes match each other. No matter how many socks I stuff into this bra, they will never bounce quite like my real breast.
The Stuffed Bra that Wont Stay Stuffed
These socks were made for wandering, and they do like to tour my chest wall as I’m moving about. They really like to get around while I’m running on the treadmill. Before I know it, they’ve worked their way under my armpit and each pump of my arm jams them a little further back under my arm, or even more frequently, they pile up right in the center of my chest. Excuse me a moment while I reach in and readjust my “girls” while running, and hopefully not stumbling, on the treadmill. Graceful, no? I find myself pushing my socks back into place as I walk around town. The boob is gone, it doesn’t feel like a boob anymore, so it’s easy to forget that while they’re just socks to me, to the average pedestrian it looks like I’m groping and playing with my boobs and I try to corral them back into place.
And yoga? the socks are likely to wind up just about anywhere, but I’ve mastered the art of readjustment during downward dog. People look at each other less during yoga anyways.
It’s not just while I’m exercising that the socks become an issue. A few weeks ago we sailed around Seattle on a gorgeous schooner. I disembarked the ship and my husband handed my 1 year old daughter down to me. She was a little wobbly on her feet as I set her down and knelt next to her on the deck. To catch her balance, she reached up and grabbed my shirt, and managed to grab my bra in the same handful. Out tumbled my sports socks in full sight of everyone looking down from the ship.
So if you see me out and about with a big lump under my arm, or up by my neck, or down by my abdomen, its just an errant sock trying to make a break for it. No need for concern. You might even be treated to a glimpse of my readjustment dance as I try to surreptitiously work it back into place.
I just joined an online challenge called 21*5*800 hosted by Bindu Wiles. 21 days. 5 days of yoga per week. 800 words per day.
I am so excited about this challenge.
The group is actually on day 4 of the challenge and I just got started. I’m just going to start where the group is, then add a few extra days at the end, probably just picking up the prompts I dropped from the first few days.
I’ve already decided that I while I intend to write my 800 words every day, I probably won’t share all of it, although I may share a portion. I want to get into a daily writing, and yoga, practice. I want to be able to be honest in my writing, and I have learned that I have to be much too careful about what I publish in this format. That said, today’s topic is relevant: Fear.
Fear
Fear has become a big part of my life since my breast cancer diagnosis. Fear of death? Certainly. Fear of pain? Oh, yes. Fear of being a burden on my family? Absolutely. Fear of the effects of my cancer on my one year old daughter? Terrifying.
I have found that the yoga helps. I’ve learned to breathe through the movements: the tough stretches, holding a challenging pose. That practice transfers to the uncomfortable and painful procedures. A deep breath and long slow exhale as I endure the poking and prodding makes all the difference. The pain is still there, but it is a bit more manageable. Focusing on my breath takes my focus away from the pain.
Fear takes me out of the present and puts me into the future – a future that is unknowable, yet my imagination tries it’s best to find every worst case scenario. Pain forces me into right now – so does my yoga practice. When I’m in now, what might happen doesn’t matter. Every moment has an infinity of possible outcomes.
When I’m seized by anxiety or panic, the yogic breathing can settle me down. Cleansing breath: long, slow exhale opens up more space in the lungs for a deeper, fuller inhale. Raise the arms to expand the chest, then slowly lower them as I exhale. Before I know it, I’m focusing more on how my body feels and improving this critical function. The fear is still there, but it is a bit more manageable. Focusing on my breath takes my focus away from the fear.
That’s not to say that fear is unwarranted. I have an aggressive form of breast cancer that has spread to the lymph nodes, complicated by another rare form of cancer that has a pretty grim prognosis. This is not something I can ignore or wish away. I also cannot focus only on the present. I am submitting myself to these procedures and chemotherapy, sacrificing my comfort and well being in the present, because I fear what will happen if I don’t, and in hope of improving my well being in the future.
I’m still mulling recipe ideas for the O Foods Contest, but in the meantime, I’ll go ahead and post this notice to spread the word.
CONTEST RULES
O Foods Contest for Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month
September is Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month, and for the second year in a row, Sara of Ms Adventures in Italy and Michelle of Bleeding Espresso are hosting the O Foods Contest to raise awareness of this important health issue.
There are TWO WAYS to take part in the O Foods Contest:
ONE: Post a recipe to your blog using a food that starts or ends with the letter O(e.g., oatmeal, orange, okra, octopus, olive, onion, potato, tomato); include this entire text box in the post; and send your post url along with a photo (100 x 100) to ofoods[at]gmail[dot]com by 11:59 pm (Italy time) on Monday, September 28, 2009.
PRIZES for recipe posts:
1st: Signed copy of Dolce Italiano: Desserts from the Babbo Kitchen by Gina DePalma, Executive Pastry Chef of Babbo Ristorante in NYC, who is currently battling ovarian cancer, inspired this event, and will be choosing her favorite recipe for this prize;
TWO: If you’re not into the recipe thing, simply post this entire text box in a post on your blog to help spread the word and send your post url to ofoods[at]gmail[dot]com by 11:59 pm (Italy time) on Monday, September 28, 2009.
Awareness posts PRIZE:
One winner chosen at random will receive a Teal Toes tote bag filled with ovarian cancer awareness goodies that you can spread around amongst your friends and family.
Ovarian cancer is the leading cause of death from gynecologic cancers in the United States and is the fifth leading cause of cancer death among U.S. women; a woman’s lifetime risk of ovarian cancer is 1 in 67.
The symptoms of ovarian cancer are often vague and subtle, making it difficult to diagnose, but include bloating, pelvic and/or abdominal pain, difficulty eating or feeling full quickly; and urinary symptoms (urgency or frequency).
There is no effective screening test for ovarian cancer but there are tests which can detect ovarian cancer when patients are at high risk or have early symptoms.
In spite of this, patients are usually diagnosed in advanced stages and only 45% survive longer than five years. Only 19% of cases are caught before the cancer has spread beyond the ovary to the pelvic region.
When ovarian cancer is detected and treated early on, the five-year survival rate is greater than 92%.
And remember, you can also always donate to the Ovarian Cancer Research Fund at our page through FirstGiving!
Please help spread the word about ovarian cancer.
Together we can make enough noise to kill this silent killer.
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