I do not hate pink.
In fact, I find it to be a flattering color for me and the several
shades of pink represent so much more for me in my life post-cancer.
I do hate the way pink is used. Pinkwashing.
Have you heard of it? Tell
me you have not walked into any box
store in the month of October and you have not been drowned in pink as it is
everywhere. Pink has been branded into a
commercial enterprise of its own; namely for many corporations to jump on the
breast cancer “awareness” bandwagon and ultimately, reap the benefits of its
bottom line profit margin.
Debates abound with some die-harders telling me that a pink
ribbon on their bucket of fried chicken does make them stop and think about
their breast health for a moment.
Come on! <Insert my most dramatic, sarcastic
eye-roll right here!>
Seriously, is it not infuriating that the pink ribbon – a
symbol of a horrendous disease and a cause to “cure” the same – is somewhat misplaced
on a bucket of obesity inducing fried chicken?
How does that pink ribbon on a bag of cat food or cat litter help women with
their breast health? Personally, I have
seen the ribbon on everything from toilet paper, bubble wrap, Italian sausages,
yogurts, duct tape, and countless other items of merchandise for sale.
We KNOW, we KNOW, we KNOW breast cancer exists. Can we all safely say we are very AWARE that breast cancer is a profound problem currently today? Um, yes. Do not even get me started on "the cure".....that is another blog post in and of itself.
Have you read the label to see how much of your “donation”
by purchase of said item actually goes to the purported cause? Maybe ten percent, or maybe ten cents or
maybe the disclaimer is as vague as “a portion of the proceeds from the
purchase of this product goes to a breast cancer charity (or to breast cancer
research).” Wait, what?
Where is YOUR money going?
Buying pink does not necessarily do anything for the
hundreds of thousands battling breast cancer each year. In fact, many of the so-called pink items
actually contain ingredients that may CAUSE cancer. Yay for a cure!
Come on! <Insert
my most dramatic, sarcastic eye-roll right here!>
We CAN do better than this!
We can, we can, we can!!!!
Let me tell you a little about breast cancer. Your brain will permanently etch the sound
waves of your surgical oncologist calling you to tell you that you have
cancer. You will hear that voice in your
head for the remainder of your life. You
will never, ever forget the dread, the fear, and the pit in the bottom of your
innermost core knowing you have a disease that may possibly take your life.
Your eyes will never erase the image of a nurse donning all
but a HazMat suit to come administer the insanely toxic and potent poison right….into…your
veins. The fear of watching the
gelatinous “Red Devil” (aka Adriamycin) arriving in the largest syringe you
have ever laid eyes on (bigger than a turkey baster, people) being slowing
pushed into the IV port and the feeling of the cool toxic substance surge into
your body is similar to what you envision being tortured may be like. You will also panic at the sight of a
technician coming in with a metal lockbox containing the radioactive isotopes
they inject INTO YOU. Anything that must
be under lock and key in a protective safe and deemed *radioactive* (I think Chernobyl
if you will), must not be thrust into your bloodstream. Oh, yes, it does.
Despite drinking gallons of liquids to counter the effects
of the noxious chemicals soaring through your system, you will not forget the
feeling of not being able to poop. That
is right. You insist to yourself that
what goes in MUST come out. However,
trying to poop on chemotherapy is nearly impossible. You actually consider an emergency room visit
because it….just…..will…..not……come…..out.
You cry.
Your breasts will never be the same. Ever.
Not only will you show hundreds of different people your boobies on a daily
basis, you will not be able to pull off the name Misty Rain and get tips in
your thong for displaying these beautiful mounds. Oh, did I mention that about ninety-five
percent of these people who gawk at your boobs will also touch them. Yup.
Men and women. Young,
middle-aged, and old. You cannot help
but wonder how many boobs they touch every day in their professional
lives. Seriously, your mind goes there.
Your armpit will be scarred and lymph nodes taken for good. Your breasts may be one or all of the
following: scarred, misshapen, lopsided,
tattooed, puckered, dimply, discolored, numb, plastic, radiation-induced firm,
mis-matched nippled, lumpy, filled with scar tissue or fatty necrosis or even
reconstructed from tissue from somewhere else on your body. Your emotional outlook on how your feminine
breasts are now far from how you were made naturally may take a huge hit
causing you to hide your breasts from your husband or not want to date for fear
of disgusting them.
The bone pain from the other poison, called Taxol, will make
you contemplate suicide. Take the pain
of childbirth and delivery but maximize that by 1000% and pretend you are
getting run over by a gigantic Mack truck crushing all of your bones
slowly. You will ponder if death is a
more palatable alternative.
You will have countless side effects long after the treatment
has commenced and your support teams have dispersed. The emotions shift daily and as if on a
roller coaster in the Marianas Trench.
The residual bone and joint pain makes you shuffle like a ninety year
old. The phantom striking pains in all of
your surgical sites. The fog brain. Yes, you will not remember anything like you
used to. Words you know will be stuck…..somewhere…..as
you try to complete your sentences.
Welcome, my friends, this….is……PINK.
In an effort, myself, to do better about the world of pink
and to make the lives of my fellow cancer counterparts more comfortable, I had
to find a way to ensure that change was being made. I could not ask people for donations to
support pink and not be able to tell them where their money was truly
going. With a passionate cancer advocate
who has bulldozed change herself, we founded PINK Revolution Breast Cancer Alliance. Our mission was to ensure that
monies that come into our pink world actually go right back out in its entirety
(yes, 100% of those monies – no skimmed fat executive salaries of these
so-called NON-PROFITS; no operating expenses to cover extravagant five star
hotel functions to “rally the troops”; no cents of the dollars actually coming
back to the ultimate cause) to help patients you may very well know
yourself.
How can a woman try to fight for her life when she has no
disability insurance and cannot work because of the aforementioned “side-effects”
of chemotherapy and surgeries; and the assistance she is given through our
local social programs is $27/month in food stamps? Oh sure, what little she will try to eat
given the projectile vomiting and constant nausea may amount to $27/month.
Come on! <Insert
my most dramatic, sarcastic eye-roll right here!>
Our world has become a fast and furiously paced place to
live. However, we are all humans and we
all have the capacity to love one another and to help one another. Let us bring back the human touch. Let us take a moment from our busy lives to
care for each other. It truly does take
a village, so let us bring that back.
Donations are immensely helpful and help PINK Revolution
fund a number of necessities – from local research at UMass Memorial Medical School Research, to leading edge technology (one of five in the world sophisticated
tomosynthesis (3D) machines for betting diagnostic imaging) at UMass Memorial Comprehensive Breast Center, to improved patient care and funding for items
such as wigs, lymphedema sleeves, prosthetics and so much more.
Make your pink dollars count. Know with confidence that your donation is
making a huge difference in the life of a very real breast cancer warrior. If you cannot make a donation, there are
endless other ways to pay it forward:
make a meal for a family going through cancer treatment, give a patient
a ride to their chemotherapy, mow their lawn, rake their leaves, watch their
young children, clean their house and set the ripple of pervasive change in
place for our future generations.
Let us all be passionately pink.
Let us all be the start of pervasive change.
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