This blog is not about my cancer, and I’ve made a conscious decision to not let my breast cancer diagnosis and treatment leak its way into my blog except where it touches on the subject of being an organizationally-challenged working mom.
However, October is breast cancer awareness month – sometimes called “Pinktober” due to the ubiquitous pink ribbons (and everything else, seriously? Buckets for the cure?)
So, I started thinking, and I realized that I do have something that I want to share regarding my experience, and what better time than now?
If you or a loved one has been diagnosed with breast cancer, (and I sincerely hope you haven’t been), then you know that the whole “pink ribbons for a cure” thing all of a sudden has new meaning to you.
Before I was diagnosed, I would participate in my company’s fund raising efforts, my contribution allowed me to wear jeans on a Friday in October, and of course I paired it with my favorite pink sweater. In the past few years, I was aware that there were questions about the authenticity of some of the work that the major foundations were doing, but, frankly, it didn’t concern me, so I didn’t concern myself with it.
Now that I am in treatment for breast cancer, I am suddenly very concerned about all the “pinkwashing” that is going on for this cause. My body’s betrayal of me has put me in the middle of a pink political controversy. Is it a good thing to raise awareness? Are some people profiting off the pink ribbons? What are the best foundations to which to contribute? What about metastasized breast cancer that cannot be cured? I have a 30% chance of being part of that population – how does it feel to talk about a cure when they have none?
In the middle of all this is the scripted October advice – do your self exams, get your mammograms, early detection, yada, yada, yada. However, there are mixed messages and controversies there too. “Mammograms don’t save lives” is the headline – but the devil is in the details, the recommendation is that routine screenings from age 40-49 do not improve the statistics and additionally cause a lot of unnecessary procedures and stress.
Here’s the thing I want you to know – what I didn’t know – breast cancer is the most random cancer. The sound bites in the media made me feel like if you didn’t have a family history (I didn’t), and you didn’t have risk factors (I didn’t), and that you weren’t Angelina Jolie (I wasn’t) then you probably didn’t have anything to worry about.
I didn’t worry, and I waited 20 months instead of 12 to get my routine mammogram. My tumor could not be palpitated, so even though I didn’t routinely practice self exam, I wouldn’t have felt it anyway. In fact, my breasts are very fibrous, so I always thought I wouldn’t know what is an existing lump vs. a tumor. I have since found out that having fibrous breasts is a risk factor (and in California, your medical practitioner has to advise you of that by law).
The fact is that a person doesn’t have to have any risk factors to get breast cancer, and many women don’t have any of the factors, yet get breast cancer. So, if in the back of your mind you have thought, “I won’t get breast cancer, I have no risk factors, I breast fed my babies, I eat organic and exercise.” think again. Now, don’t go the other way and worry all the time and convince yourself that you will get breast cancer, but don’t be complacent either.
I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to be worried about breast cancer all this time, but I do think I would have been a little less likely to blow off my mammogram. I’m not saying that eight months would have made a difference in my diagnosis or treatment. I’m sure even a doctor wouldn’t weigh in on that – again, it’s so random – but I wish I didn’t have to wonder if it would have made a difference.
In the end, I have conflicting feelings on Pinktober. I cringe at the hype. Mostly, I don’t want to be associated with it. I don’t want breast cancer defining who I am. I was a mother, wife, project manager, cook, friend, wine drinker, sister, and daughter before I was diagnosed with cancer, and I’m all those things after – breast cancer is one small slice that I’d just as soon forget ever happened.
