I found this on a Facebook page and it's hilarious! It's also exactly what I've been thinking lately. I've been working on an entry for a few days but as usual, can't word things right. So just go read that one.
It's amazing how many absolute "cures" there are out there. And just as many "preventions". Unfortunately, people who do all those things still get cancer. Then it's explained that they just must not have done it right. Maybe they had doubts, which caused stress, which negated all the good stuff in the whatever they were doing.
The whole thing reminds me of the religious movement that was really big back in the 90s. Might still be, for all I know, but I am not paying a lot of attention at the moment. It was big for me back then because I had friends in it. You know the one. It's where all you have to do to get whatever you want is to "name it and claim it". If you don't get it, it's ONLY because you didn't have enough "faith". I am putting "faith" in quotation marks because I don't think it is in any way related to REAL faith. When I was having multiple miscarriages, I was told to claim the next baby in the name of Jesus Christ. (I am a Christian, by the way. Just thought I would mention that.) When that baby also died, I was told that I didn't have "faith" that it would happen. In the same way, they say that believers (I will not use the word Christian here) will never be sick. If one is sick, there is something wrong between them and God, and they need to "get right with God".
OK, this is not a theological blog so I don't really want to get started any more on that. But I did want to say I see some parallels.
My Dad did alternative treatments for his cancer. He had absolute faith that they would heal him. He tended towards a "cafeteria plan" in that he picked and chose what sounded best from all the many, many, ONLY CURE plans out there. He even went to a Mexican clinic. If he had any doubts, he certainly didn't voice them - something that I personally found very annoying at the time. I guess the gurus would say that it was the doubts, or the picking and choosing, or something that killed him. Certainly not that there was any flaw in their plan or that in the long run PEOPLE DO DIE.
I do what I can, but I find that I am easing up on some of my former standards as the things I read become more and more laughable and impossible. I eat raw garlic, because I like it. I don't eat 5 cloves a day, though. I jumped on board the broccoli sprout bandwagon when I read about it, because I own a sprouter, I love sprouts, it's easy and inexpensive. I am not going to beat myself up for skipping a day. I draw the line at juicing everything, or drinking vile concoctions of "liquid minerals" that I saw my Dad suffer through, to name a couple. I can't afford organic foods. I refuse to stop eating meat and cheese. I like Pringles, Cheetos and stuff with real sugar in it, so I will continue to eat those, in moderation.
I wish there really was a foolproof way to stay healthy, but I don't think that has existed since Eve ate the fruit. Being a Christian, I believe God when he says that sickness will always exist in the world, and that none of us knows the number of our days. I will do my best to do my best, to look for the humor in everything and to enjoy life.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Didn't I Just Say This?
Monday, August 13, 2012
I Used to Love Pink
The other day I suddenly noticed that the background on this blog was pink. It was just pink bricks with vines, really cute and nothing to do with breast cancer, but I felt I needed to change it right away. So I did.
Until then I hadn't really realized how much I have grown to detest pink. My Girl Scout troop's T-shirts are pink, and as much as I love the design I have been choosing a different one so much that the pink one has worked itself to the bottom of my drawer. I have another generic pink shirt that I recently decided I wasn't wearing too much (without asking why) and put it in my pajama drawer as a sleep shirt instead.
I was planning some fund-raisers recently for the band and was looking at sports team cups. They sell NFL, MLB and college team cups. Oh, and you can also get the NFL cups in "pink for breast cancer" (doesn't ANYONE ever notice how STUPID that sounds??). Huh.
I commented that I thought that was silly, and ended with "I am sick of pink". The person wondered why. I didn't even bother to try to explain, because for one thing my brain doesn't give me the right words anymore, and for another there is apparently just no speaking against the Big Pink Machine.
I will probably never buy anything pink again. It's not that I don't like it anymore. It's more that it will look like I bought "pink for breast cancer". And these days, that's a fairly decent assumption for anyone to make.
Until then I hadn't really realized how much I have grown to detest pink. My Girl Scout troop's T-shirts are pink, and as much as I love the design I have been choosing a different one so much that the pink one has worked itself to the bottom of my drawer. I have another generic pink shirt that I recently decided I wasn't wearing too much (without asking why) and put it in my pajama drawer as a sleep shirt instead.
I was planning some fund-raisers recently for the band and was looking at sports team cups. They sell NFL, MLB and college team cups. Oh, and you can also get the NFL cups in "pink for breast cancer" (doesn't ANYONE ever notice how STUPID that sounds??). Huh.
I commented that I thought that was silly, and ended with "I am sick of pink". The person wondered why. I didn't even bother to try to explain, because for one thing my brain doesn't give me the right words anymore, and for another there is apparently just no speaking against the Big Pink Machine.
I will probably never buy anything pink again. It's not that I don't like it anymore. It's more that it will look like I bought "pink for breast cancer". And these days, that's a fairly decent assumption for anyone to make.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Self Reflection
...or, here is where I get all pensive 'n junk
*****************************************
This is how some people react when they find there are those who don't appreciate "pinkwashing" in any form. I especially dislike the ones that use cutesy nicknames for breasts that sexualize them. This comment was made specifically about a campaign that is selling cupcakes decorated to look like all sizes/ethnicities of breasts and calling them boobies, melons, jugs, hooters, knockers etc. It is in response to other commenters (mostly B/C patients themselves) that found the entire thing tasteless and demeaning.
No, breast cancer does not make you smart. In fact I most often feel stupid as my brain is still so foggy from chemo (and apparently tamoxifen as well) and there is no guarantee I will ever see improvement. Has it also made me bitter and humorless? I have to ask.
Quite probably I am more bitter and humorless than I used to be, but it isn't just breast cancer that has made me so. There is a lot that went into the making of the "new" me and it's been going on for far longer than I have had cancer. I won't go into it here. Suffice to say that I have found myself to be bitter and humorless for longer than I have had cancer. Am I more so than I used to be? I don't think so. Others may disagree. It is something I work on. Some days are better than others.
BUT, I do have to say that I don't think my own B/C is responsible for my thinking these campaigns are tacky. I have thought so for far longer. I think they are tacky because to me THEY ARE TACKY.
I don't think I would have thought much about why, pre-B/C. Let's think about it now.
Breasts ARE sexual objects, that is true. So are penises, but we don't really talk about penises out in public in polite society, or joke about squishing them to detect cancer or make penis cupcakes or wear shirts stating your support for the willies and dicks and...need I go on? (yes, I know there are sayings about squeezing your balls. I think those are tacky, too.)
Now imagine a woman you love, perhaps your own wife, facing the prospect of losing one or more breasts. These breasts have been important in her life. They symbolize her womanhood. They make her clothing look good on her. Perhaps they fed her babies.
They have been important in her sex life. They are important to her partner, but try to put yourself in HER shoes. She will never be able to experience the feelings from them again. She is also wondering what her partner will think, what she should do about reconstruction... Will he still love her if she has no breasts at all? Will he love her more if she has reconstruction? Oh, he will surely say all the right things, but she knows how important breasts are to him. Will there ever come a time when she doesn't wonder? When she can trust that he means what he says, isn't just saying it to placate her?
If she has not had reconstruction, she has a choice to make each time she gets dressed. Prosthetic? Swim with or without a T-shirt? What about all her clothes that have even the slightest of v-necks? Will people stare? Will children make comments? Worse, will adults make comments (it happens. Have you ever read People of Wal-Mart? I refuse, because i could easily be on there for all I know)? Her bra is painful, but she puts it on anyway -- so she can wear her prosthetic -- so that she won't get comments or stares from being lopsided. Yes, the physical pain is very real, but easier to endure than the emotional pain of feeling self-conscious every moment. Now think hard before you tell her to "get over it".
Maybe you can now begin to see how painful it might be for that person to see things like "Save second base". For her, it is too late. "second base" is gone (along with the pre-adolescent years in which sayings like "second base" were cute). Imagine that she loves and appreciates life, and is working on becoming less bitter and humorless. She realizes that the world is focused on boobies, that it won't change and that there will be boobies everywhere for the rest of her life. She knows she needs to "get over" the constant reminders, and it's getting better every day.
Then October comes around again. And like The Holidays, the "celebration" starts earlier every year. It also gets cuter, pinker and more like a party every year. They sure know how to put the FUN in FUNdraising!
I realize that not every other B/C patient feels this way. Some of them say they love the cupcake thing. I am not trying to say they're wrong. I'm just tired of it being us vs. them. If I am bitter and humorless (and stupid, apparently), then they are callous and insensitive. Can't there be a middle ground? And can't there be a little sensitivity (dare I say AWARENESS) to those who are in pain, even if you do think it's stupid?
*****************************************
This is how some people react when they find there are those who don't appreciate "pinkwashing" in any form. I especially dislike the ones that use cutesy nicknames for breasts that sexualize them. This comment was made specifically about a campaign that is selling cupcakes decorated to look like all sizes/ethnicities of breasts and calling them boobies, melons, jugs, hooters, knockers etc. It is in response to other commenters (mostly B/C patients themselves) that found the entire thing tasteless and demeaning.
It's silly, but then B/C doesn't make you smart..It can * often does make some bitter & humorless..
No, breast cancer does not make you smart. In fact I most often feel stupid as my brain is still so foggy from chemo (and apparently tamoxifen as well) and there is no guarantee I will ever see improvement. Has it also made me bitter and humorless? I have to ask.
Quite probably I am more bitter and humorless than I used to be, but it isn't just breast cancer that has made me so. There is a lot that went into the making of the "new" me and it's been going on for far longer than I have had cancer. I won't go into it here. Suffice to say that I have found myself to be bitter and humorless for longer than I have had cancer. Am I more so than I used to be? I don't think so. Others may disagree. It is something I work on. Some days are better than others.
BUT, I do have to say that I don't think my own B/C is responsible for my thinking these campaigns are tacky. I have thought so for far longer. I think they are tacky because to me THEY ARE TACKY.
I don't think I would have thought much about why, pre-B/C. Let's think about it now.
Breasts ARE sexual objects, that is true. So are penises, but we don't really talk about penises out in public in polite society, or joke about squishing them to detect cancer or make penis cupcakes or wear shirts stating your support for the willies and dicks and...need I go on? (yes, I know there are sayings about squeezing your balls. I think those are tacky, too.)
Now imagine a woman you love, perhaps your own wife, facing the prospect of losing one or more breasts. These breasts have been important in her life. They symbolize her womanhood. They make her clothing look good on her. Perhaps they fed her babies.
They have been important in her sex life. They are important to her partner, but try to put yourself in HER shoes. She will never be able to experience the feelings from them again. She is also wondering what her partner will think, what she should do about reconstruction... Will he still love her if she has no breasts at all? Will he love her more if she has reconstruction? Oh, he will surely say all the right things, but she knows how important breasts are to him. Will there ever come a time when she doesn't wonder? When she can trust that he means what he says, isn't just saying it to placate her?
If she has not had reconstruction, she has a choice to make each time she gets dressed. Prosthetic? Swim with or without a T-shirt? What about all her clothes that have even the slightest of v-necks? Will people stare? Will children make comments? Worse, will adults make comments (it happens. Have you ever read People of Wal-Mart? I refuse, because i could easily be on there for all I know)? Her bra is painful, but she puts it on anyway -- so she can wear her prosthetic -- so that she won't get comments or stares from being lopsided. Yes, the physical pain is very real, but easier to endure than the emotional pain of feeling self-conscious every moment. Now think hard before you tell her to "get over it".
Maybe you can now begin to see how painful it might be for that person to see things like "Save second base". For her, it is too late. "second base" is gone (along with the pre-adolescent years in which sayings like "second base" were cute). Imagine that she loves and appreciates life, and is working on becoming less bitter and humorless. She realizes that the world is focused on boobies, that it won't change and that there will be boobies everywhere for the rest of her life. She knows she needs to "get over" the constant reminders, and it's getting better every day.
Then October comes around again. And like The Holidays, the "celebration" starts earlier every year. It also gets cuter, pinker and more like a party every year. They sure know how to put the FUN in FUNdraising!
I realize that not every other B/C patient feels this way. Some of them say they love the cupcake thing. I am not trying to say they're wrong. I'm just tired of it being us vs. them. If I am bitter and humorless (and stupid, apparently), then they are callous and insensitive. Can't there be a middle ground? And can't there be a little sensitivity (dare I say AWARENESS) to those who are in pain, even if you do think it's stupid?
Saturday, August 4, 2012
People Watching
Today as I "worked out" in the athletic club pool, I noticed a couple in the lane next to mine. I'm no good at guessing ages, so let's just say they looked like they might be the age my parents would be. They were together in the lane, swimming laps. I was able to watch them pretty much the entire time, as my "workout" consists of simply moving my body as much as possible without causing myself pain, so I basically just tread water in one spot.
They would swim one length, with the man finishing first. He would stop at the end and wait for her. Then they would just sit there at the end, talking. They talked and laughed for a few minutes at the end of every length. After a few minutes they would pull their goggles down and go to the other end, where they would stop, talk and laugh again until they were ready to swim some more.
Even in those moments where they didn't say anything, they clearly enjoyed each other's company. There were no distractions. No TV, no computer, no phone, no music - nothing but each other, and that was OK. More than OK - it was good.
I want that.
They would swim one length, with the man finishing first. He would stop at the end and wait for her. Then they would just sit there at the end, talking. They talked and laughed for a few minutes at the end of every length. After a few minutes they would pull their goggles down and go to the other end, where they would stop, talk and laugh again until they were ready to swim some more.
Even in those moments where they didn't say anything, they clearly enjoyed each other's company. There were no distractions. No TV, no computer, no phone, no music - nothing but each other, and that was OK. More than OK - it was good.
I want that.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Random
It's August, and you know what that means - only 2 more months till Pinktober officially begins. So it's time to start hawking those parties and galas (oops, I mean fund-raisers). Heaven forbid we only have ONE month drowning in the stuff.
"Blankity Blank Walk For Breast Cancer" just sounds so wrong. Like you LIKE breast cancer. We're not against it; we're FOR it. Rah rah.
It's probably just me, but it's what I'm thinking.
"Blankity Blank Walk For Breast Cancer" just sounds so wrong. Like you LIKE breast cancer. We're not against it; we're FOR it. Rah rah.
It's probably just me, but it's what I'm thinking.
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