Very Aware of Breast Cancer, Not Keen on Pink

...Because I have breast cancer.   I've become a poster girl for the early detection of breast cancer, as a matter of fact. Take that stuff seriously, ladies!  I found my own lump by self-examination, which I've been doing for years.  Even then, I was skeptical, and waited before I saw my doctor.  I had a clean mammogram in May, I thought.  I'm Stage 2 right now, in October, five months later. That's how fast my cancer grew!  It's scary to think where I would be if I waited until next May to find out, but fortunately, I don't need to go there.  I'm diagnosed and taking care of it.  As you read this, I'm probably in an operating room, having my tumor and a few extra lymph nodes removed.  Chemo and radiation are also in my future. 

It's easy to ignore all the hoopla about breast cancer.  Everywhere you look, everything is pink, and people are hollering at you about it.  Almost every commercial that you see is about it.  The White House is lit up in pink, and many other major landmarks, except perhaps Mount Rushmore, go pink for the month.  And the men have to get involved, too, because cancer doesn't discriminate.  Soccer teams wear pink shoes on the field. The NFL has their teams dress all in pink(okay, I'm making that up). I'm not a big fan of pink, because it's a girly color, and I'm not all that girly.  I'm pretty anti-girly, actually, and prefer purple.  But even people who like pink are begging for mercy by the middle of October.  By the end of the month, you become so saturated with hearing about breast cancer that you start to tune it out. 

And that would be a mistake. 

Any woman, any time, can get breast cancer.

No matter how one feels about the color pink, the message it conveys needs to sink in.  Schedule a mammogram today.  Even if you're not old enough to need a mammogram, self-examinations can save your life. Every woman should be an expert on her own body, and doing self-exams are part of that.

I know that some women are skittish about feeling around their boobs, but get over it.  As they say, embrace the Ta-Tas!  It's not about titillation; it's about your health.   Go to the American Cancer Society's website and learn about early detection of breast cancer. There's a link on there about self-examinations and how to do them, complete with pictures. 

A little minor embarrassment each month can be a life saver. 

Adventures before Coffee

The other morning, as I sipped my coffee, I was scrolling through some posts on the Book of Face(thanks Lance!).  One of my friends had posted "It's confirmed, I'm going to be a mommy!" as her status. After the usual immediate stab of deep seated envy(sorry--I just can't help it), I dutifully typed my congratulations in the comments and moved on. 

At least, I tried to move on. My friend later sent me a private message informing me that she had been playing the BREAST CANCER AWARENESS game.  And I lost. My irritation was pre-coffee in its intensity.

These chain things--posts, statuses, letters, emails, whatever--annoy me. Every time I see one of those long rants followed by the requisite "97.4% will never repost" lines, I want to punch someone.  If I don't post, I'm uncool, or evil, or just a very bad person? Is that what you're implying?  Should I feel guilty for not wanting to spread this particular virus? Are we still in middle school? Should I start wearing the same hairstyle and the same clothes as everyone else, too?  Because I think that I still have a few t-shirts from the 80s buried in my closet. 

And breast cancer awareness?  Really? We still need to make people aware that there is breast cancer?  People are practically beating us over the head with ads about breast cancer!  Since breast cancer is the most heavily advertised cancer out there, I am pretty sure that even  babies are born  already aware of it. So why the need to "raise awareness", in a ridiculous "secret" game, no less?

Because I lost and commented, I was now required to choose one from the following and post it as my status:

1) Darn diarrhea 
2) How do you get rid of foot fungus 
3) No toilet paper, so goodbye socks 
4) It's confirmed, I'm going to be a mommy/daddy 
5) Just won $900 on a scratch card 
6) I just found out I've been cheated on for the past 5 months....... 

I was supposed to post one of the above without comment.  The private message ended with the admonishment, "Don't be a spoiled sport, play along with the game".  Which fired up my irritation a second time, and made me want to say unkind things in addition to punching someone.  Again, I'm a bad person if I don't play along with a horrible game? A game involves reciprocity.  To call something like this a game should mean that the person should have a choice to say "no".  As in "No, I will not pander to some vague peer pressure that says that I have to post some random comment in order to avoid social condemnation."  

My rebellious nature wanted to just not pick anything, to blow the entire thing off.  However, in my quest to have a social life, I  have a need to be nice to people who have been nice to me. I sat for at least five minutes staring at my phone, until my husband asked whether I was having a seizure.  Then I had concerns about the people I would upset, based on my choice.  My mother-in-law would send me a 40 page email regarding diarrhea treatments if I posted that status.  My family would lose their minds with concerns about my health if I announced a pregnancy.  Nobody on Planet Earth would believe that Larry would cheat on me.  The scratch card was out.  Foot fungus? As if.

After another five minutes of agonizing,  I posted the one about the toilet paper, deeming it the least obnoxious.  I figured that was the end of that.  I had no plans to do more than that. If anyone commented, I wasn't interested in making them play.  I would fulfill the barest minimum in a passive aggressive attempt to rebel without completely rebelling.  I have issues, and I'm not proud of them, but that was that.  I filed away the entire episode under "Stoopid Things I Do", and promptly forgot about it.   

Then I got a text from my dad.  "Why didn't you have any toilet paper? We brought you a case last week when we went to Sam's, didn't we?"  

New house rule:  No looking at the Book of Face until after lunch.