Happy Pinktober everyone! The time of year where people slap
pink ribbons on everything in hopes of bringing awareness to breast cancer.
When we get to see cute little NFL cheerleaders with their perfectly perky
boobs wear pink ribbons that perfectly match the socks of the football players.
Breast cancer isn’t cute, though. It isn’t fun. It isn’t little pink trinkets
or pink tutus or pink tiaras. It is a disease. It is breast amputation and
chemotherapy and radiation and reconstruction. It is hair loss, sickness, pain,
and a lifetime of treatment.
Back in October 2015 I experienced Pinktober as a chemotherapy
patient, and I was mad. I hated everything pink. I hated that people were
making money off my disease. And I still hate that aspect of breast cancer
awareness month. But, what if? What if that dumb pink ribbon actually makes a
woman stop to check her boobs? What if someone finally schedules that
mammogram? Then all the pink would be worth it, to save a life.
So, this October, I’m in a different place. I’m no longer
angry with all the pink. I am saddened and absolutely aware that attention
needs to be given to all cancers. I’m frustrated when breast cancer is treated lightly,
and I’m utterly amazed that so many of my friends are not paying attention to
their breast health. This year I’ll wear a little pink every day. And I’ll hope
that it makes a difference.
