It's October. For those who don't know, or if you live in a bubble....Which I suppose technically we all should be preparing to do....Anyway, unless you live underground, you know that this month is breast cancer awareness month. You'll see all kinds of pink shit everywhere and companies posting awareness campaigns and dump trucks with pink stickers on them and facebook ads, fundraising efforts and runs.
It's all good. I suppose. I've heard stories about companies looking to boost their image by pinkwashing their media and not really contributing much to actual breast cancer research, so if you do donate, do your fact checking and make sure the place you send your donations has a history of actually contributing, not just advertising.
For me, October is a drag. It's a constant reminder of breast cancer. Not that I really need one, everyday I wake up my heart still pounds because I'm not over the shock of my diagnosis and what I went through over the past 9 months.
Jason and I have rejoined the bowling league. At first I wasn't sure I was going to be able to, because of my surgery, the weight of the bowling ball and the fact that the games are at 7 and I pretty much tap out at 9 if I'm lucky. But...we did.
Our first game was three fridays ago. I started bowling with my right hand (the one that had all the lymph nodes removed and what we call the "cancer side"). After about 10 tosses of a 10lb ball I was done. Achy and sore and not into it. Instead of quitting I decided I would switch to bowling with my left hand.
I had to switch to a kids ball, and I sucked but I wasn't about to give up. It's not like I was a really good bowler to begin with and I didn't want to shut down my life just because one part of me couldn't work as well as before.
The organizer of the league saw me bowling left and told me that his mother used to bowl, and she refused to give her shoes and ball to the lanes, that she wanted them to go to someone who would appreciate and use them so he gave them to me. Her shoes fit me perfectly and the ball was a lefty if you can believe it. I had it fitted and now I have bowling shoes and my own ball and a little bag for them all to go in.
I'm by far the most terrible bowler in the league and went from being the bouncy blonde to the one who came back from cancer with a buzz cut but whatever. Most people I talk to tell me how nice it is to see me. One guy told me last night..."you went to hell and back, and here you are...." and just then did I realize how right he was.
I have been to hell. Chemotherapy, surgery, radiation, it's hell. I never understood before how old people would be like "no....I don't want any more treatment..." but I can imagine now. It takes it out of you. It takes everything you've got. I gave it everything I had and now, I'm in limbo.
I'm returning to life, but not a life I recognize. When I try to go back to my old life...to do a spin class that's intense, to jog too far too fast, to stay up late, to have too many drinks, to eat cheese (lol)...I pay the price. I'm not the same because of the hell I've been through.
Active cancer treatment is one thing, but after active treatment is over, and for me that means semi-active because I still have to take zoladex which supresses my ovaries and puts me into menopause and exemestane which inhibits the enzyme which converts hormones into estrogen, but anyway...after really active treatment it's kind of a struggle to find normal life. Especially during these strange Covid times.
I can't return to work, my doctor says its too dangerous. I can't run myself down doing all sorts of things around the house. I can't drink my afternoons away like I might have liked to in the past. I try to make sense of what my new life is like. This whole October pink thing isn't helping.
The truth is, for stage 3 and 4 breast cancers the prognosis and life expectancy hasn't changed in 50 years. We still face recurrances and statistics that are pretty grim. For stages 1 and 2, early detection and screening programs help but the real research to help women with advanced cancers like mine isn't coming along. The standard of care isn't changing.
This is why it's so important to me that I continue to research on my own, seek natural treatments and try dietary interventions, meditation, exercise and do all I can. For us Stage 3 and 4 girls, breast cancer awareness month doesn't really reach us like it should. The testing and trials take years and years, the health care system now is so bogged down with covid women are literally dying because they can't get the care they need.
It's not all pretty in pink, bows and pink hair and go for a 5k run and then for a ceasar and some pancakes. It's a real thing. Breast cancer touches 1 in 3 women. To all my friends, if you do anything this October, go to your doctor, request a mammogram, have an ultrasound if you're told you just have dense breasts, go for a blood test, get a checkup. Take care of yourself. Try to catch this beast early, because if you do, odds are you'll be OK.
I choose to believe I'll be OK, and as my naturopath says, I'm doing all I can right now so if I'm not OK, that my life. And I have to accept it. I'm choosing to just picture myself at my kids highschool graduations, here for many years. It's all I can do. No one has a crystal ball.
So, for October, I'm not saying I don't support breast cancer awareness month, but put the awareness where it matters...on yourself, on your sisters, friends, mothers and kids. Check in, take care of yourself. Donate, but research where your donations go. Do the runs, but do it for you, half of the time the money just go to pharmaceutical companies to fund drug trials and the big corporations look like heros in the process.
This October is unlike any I've ever had. I'm now on the other side of that pink ribbon, and I don't wear one, I don't tote it around like a badge of honour or some award I've been given. I see it as a symbol of how much more needs to be done for women in health care, I see it as a "nice gesture", but we don't need nice. We need real results and we need consensus and doctors that understand how multifaceted breast cancer is and how much it affects a woman's life.
A few years ago Jason bought me some socks, the had the big breast cancer logo on them. They were likely a good deal and good socks. They said "she's a survivor". Everytime I put them on I'd feel a little bit like a phony but they were quality socks so I didn't really care that much. Now I won't wear them. I don't consider myself a survivor yet. I'm still in the mess, I'm still trying to make sense of it all and it hasn't even been a year.
I consider myself a warrior, I battle each day with my thoughts, with the lingering side effects from my treatment, with my body...but I'm also a peaceful warrior. I honour my struggle, and my journey and how far I've come.
I look at the pink ribbon and I see optimism and I have hope for future generations. I think about me and the pink ribbon and it doesn't really hit home yet. It's too soon. Let me get a few years under my belt. I still haven't fully absorbed that I actually went through what I went through, it's that traumatic.
Today I stood out on the deck and bbqd a steak *one of my 2 per month - grass fed only* and I looked up at the sky and I felt almost like old me. Then I realized that old me is dead.
Old me had cancer and for likely many years.... I think new me doesn't anymore.
I looked up at the sky and was grateful for my life. For the food I was about to eat, for the wine I was able to enjoy, for the beautiful sunshine and the comfort of my home and to the many many people who have reached out to me since my last blog. Sometimes we really have no idea how much people want to help.
I feel blessed, today, to be able to even write this blog, to reach my family and friends and to have something to say.
I'll say it again about the whole October thing, I don't NOT support it. I just caution the arbitrary pinking of things. Please ladies....book a mammogram. Do a self exam. This month. Educate eachother and advocate for yourself.
That's the real pink behind the ribbon. Sisters, taking care of eachother.
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