October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. When I was in treatment for breast cancer in 2006, I was surprised at my own reaction to Race For the Cure, which happened in September, followed by Breast Cancer Awareness Month in October. As with other events in my life, I sought support from other people, in this case my fellow survivors, and I found others undergoing treatment around me felt the same way I did. We wanted nothing to do with either one of those events. And here's the reason why.
Cancer, cancer, cancer, that's all we heard all day long, only to go home and see ads on TV for Race For the Cure, and then public service announcements all about October being Breast Cancer Awareness Month. One breast cancer survivor I met said, "By the time October was over, I just about couldn't stand it." It's not that any of us felt these were unworthy causes or that the intention of the instigators of said events had anything but a genuine desire to help. It's just one of those unavoidably strange things that happens when you've got cancer.
I'm sure there are psychological explanations for the way we felt, and I'm sure not everyone feels the way we did. I thought about it for a while, then decided not to worry about figuring that out. What was more important for all of us was to honor our feelings and keep on with our treatment, even if it meant only turning on the TV when we wanted to watch a DVD, shutting out the rest of the world if we had to. I discovered being in treatment for breast cancer was similar to my previous experience of being a widow. There is no wrong way to do it, although there may be plenty of good hearted, well meaning people who would love to tell you how you should be doing it differently than you are.
A group of my closest friends formed themselves into a Race For the Cure team in September 2006. I could see it was good for them to do something constructive in the face of my diagnosis, and they raised money for breast cancer research in the process. What I couldn't do was come up with a reasonable explanation as to why I couldn't even bring myself to make an appearance, let alone walk in the race. I was healing from surgery and I was having radiation prior to chemotherapy. Although I was a bit tired, I could have gone to the race. I could have at least made an appearance. I was able to get to the survivors' luncheon the day before the race. But as I posed for a picture with my new cancer friends, I couldn't help feeling I didn't belong there.
Now that it's been seven years, all that has changed. I've gone through accepting that I've had cancer and come out the other side. I've had some time to feel like I'm living a normal life after cancer. Everyone's journey through cancer is different. Most people I know who've survived cancer will say having cancer changed them for the better. I'd say that's true for me as well. When you meet someone in the chemo room that is kind of annoying and gets on your nerves and you find out a few weeks later that they've died, it adjusts how you view other people. When you are weak and weary from chemo and whine to the doctor and he laughs along with you when you make a joke instead of hurrying you out of the office, you learn by example about true compassion. When your chemo nurses applaud your every step forward, even when you feel like you're not strong enough to make it through, you learn we're all just muddling through, and that's okay.
Now when October comes around and the leaves are changing color and we're getting tucked in for winter on the island where I live, I would ask one thing. If Breast Cancer Awareness Month scares you, know you are not alone. But don't let your fear prevent you from getting a mammogram, or learning the proper way to do a self breast exam and doing one once a month, or being assertive with your medical care giver or your insurance company. When you live in a place that's somewhat remote, it's easy to ignore things that take a little more work to accomplish, such as breast cancer screenings and follow up tests if you need them.
Just know this. Early detection lessened the impact of the treatment I needed, and most likely saved my life. And here's another little tidbit. I am actually less afraid of breast cancer now than I was before I was diagnosed, and when I was first in treatment. Even though my risk is somewhat higher now. That's because I'm armed with knowledge, I know how much love and support comes out of the woodwork right along with the cancer diagnosis, and I've learned first hand that having cancer put me on a journey that has enriched my life.
© M.E. Rollins
