Breast Cancer Awareness
Breast Cancer Awareness Month officially is October.
For no reason known to me, I decided May was going to be my Breast Cancer Awareness month this year, and I wore pink every day.
I have said it may times, and I will continue to say it over and over and over: Ladies, do your breast exams, talk to your doctors, listen to your doctors. Gentlemen, do not wait to go to the doctor, and pay attention to what they tell you. Everyone, do not be afraid to question your doctors, push them, do not be afraid to have tests done. Parents, talk to your adolescent children about their bodies and teach them not to be afraid to talk to you or a nurse or a health care professional if something seems strange to them. The more aware of our bodies we are, the better we can take care of them and the easier it is to stop fear.
Some of you may remember a couple of years ago that I wrote about two friends of mine named Terry, both manic Yankees fans like me. One had cancer and one had MS. I met the former when I was in rehab after hospital stay several years ago. I met the latter through freecycle.org. In the last year and a half, I have lost contact with both of them.
Last night I got a call from cancer Terry's cousin, with whom I still speak on occasion. Terry has been in Intensive Care since last week (the last week of May) and the prognosis is poor. I will spare you the details, but, though they are trying another treatment, we are really in wait to say goodbye mode.
Terry was a postal worker, a dyed in the wool mail carrier. She never missed work. She never went to the doctor except for required work physicals and to take others to their appointments. She had pain in her leg for over a month, but kept walking her routes until she finally gave in and went to an orthopaedist.
The orthopaedist discovered that Terry's leg was broken and he was suspicious. He sent her to an oncologist who confirmed that she had bone cancer. She'd had breast cancer and never realised it. It metastisized into her bones and Terry was Stage 3 by the time she was diagnosed. In the 6 years I've known her, she was in remission for only a few months.
I've been close to nearly a dozen people who have had cancer. Less than half of them are still living. Those that are, detected it early. I have made countless casual acquaintences of people with cancer - all detected it early.
Not in any way, shape or form am I saying that the people who did not detect it early were at fault. Never never think it. Nor is there any way of knowing what might have changed if they had detected it early. We cannot know. But I will say that those who didn't were either afraid of saying anything to the doctor, or were not sufficiently taught to be aware of their bodies (because of times or whatever, it doesn't matter why). And I will also say that fear and lack of good information can be addressed, can be changed. And in my opinion, the world is better when we are less afraid and better informed.
Don't be afraid to talk to someone about cancer or disease in general or anything physical that worries you. And don't be afraid to listen when someone talks to you about it. Terry wanted her message to be that people should stop flinching every time someone says cancer, or sick, or disease or "I feel like shit." Life goes on - changed, but on. We are still whole people, and in fact, this is a new dimension. Ignoring it always seemed ridiculous to her, like people trying to ignore the fact that she no longer had hair, or walked with a limp. What she loved, she still loved. What she disliked, she still disliked. Her capacity for those things may have changed with the disease, but that didn't make her less of a person, and she wanted people to remember that about all chronically or terminally ill people. As she once put it, "If you weren't afraid of me before I got sick, why should you be afraid of me now? Unless I've turned into a complete asshole since I got sick..." Which she hadn't. :)
And once in a blue moon, though she didn't waste a lot of time on guilt trips, she would get mad at herself for not taking better care of her body. And she wanted that message sent too, so I am.
For no reason known to me, I decided May was going to be my Breast Cancer Awareness month this year, and I wore pink every day.
I have said it may times, and I will continue to say it over and over and over: Ladies, do your breast exams, talk to your doctors, listen to your doctors. Gentlemen, do not wait to go to the doctor, and pay attention to what they tell you. Everyone, do not be afraid to question your doctors, push them, do not be afraid to have tests done. Parents, talk to your adolescent children about their bodies and teach them not to be afraid to talk to you or a nurse or a health care professional if something seems strange to them. The more aware of our bodies we are, the better we can take care of them and the easier it is to stop fear.
Some of you may remember a couple of years ago that I wrote about two friends of mine named Terry, both manic Yankees fans like me. One had cancer and one had MS. I met the former when I was in rehab after hospital stay several years ago. I met the latter through freecycle.org. In the last year and a half, I have lost contact with both of them.
Last night I got a call from cancer Terry's cousin, with whom I still speak on occasion. Terry has been in Intensive Care since last week (the last week of May) and the prognosis is poor. I will spare you the details, but, though they are trying another treatment, we are really in wait to say goodbye mode.
Terry was a postal worker, a dyed in the wool mail carrier. She never missed work. She never went to the doctor except for required work physicals and to take others to their appointments. She had pain in her leg for over a month, but kept walking her routes until she finally gave in and went to an orthopaedist.
The orthopaedist discovered that Terry's leg was broken and he was suspicious. He sent her to an oncologist who confirmed that she had bone cancer. She'd had breast cancer and never realised it. It metastisized into her bones and Terry was Stage 3 by the time she was diagnosed. In the 6 years I've known her, she was in remission for only a few months.
I've been close to nearly a dozen people who have had cancer. Less than half of them are still living. Those that are, detected it early. I have made countless casual acquaintences of people with cancer - all detected it early.
Not in any way, shape or form am I saying that the people who did not detect it early were at fault. Never never think it. Nor is there any way of knowing what might have changed if they had detected it early. We cannot know. But I will say that those who didn't were either afraid of saying anything to the doctor, or were not sufficiently taught to be aware of their bodies (because of times or whatever, it doesn't matter why). And I will also say that fear and lack of good information can be addressed, can be changed. And in my opinion, the world is better when we are less afraid and better informed.
Don't be afraid to talk to someone about cancer or disease in general or anything physical that worries you. And don't be afraid to listen when someone talks to you about it. Terry wanted her message to be that people should stop flinching every time someone says cancer, or sick, or disease or "I feel like shit." Life goes on - changed, but on. We are still whole people, and in fact, this is a new dimension. Ignoring it always seemed ridiculous to her, like people trying to ignore the fact that she no longer had hair, or walked with a limp. What she loved, she still loved. What she disliked, she still disliked. Her capacity for those things may have changed with the disease, but that didn't make her less of a person, and she wanted people to remember that about all chronically or terminally ill people. As she once put it, "If you weren't afraid of me before I got sick, why should you be afraid of me now? Unless I've turned into a complete asshole since I got sick..." Which she hadn't. :)
And once in a blue moon, though she didn't waste a lot of time on guilt trips, she would get mad at herself for not taking better care of her body. And she wanted that message sent too, so I am.