My friend Greg’s take on the bad luck article: Randomness
Posting This One Again for Reasons Part 2
One Reason: LOTS of chatter on the interwebz about positivity lately. Advice that cancer patients should “be positive”. And I’m seeing a very disturbing lack of understanding for those who are labeled “negative” (although I do NOT label myself that way). My new favorite quote applies here: “You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist.” – Nietzsche
Another Reason: I’ve been really, really, REALLY busy—too busy to write. I sit down each day and skim stuff to read and then fall asleep before I can get started. Hope to change that next week.
Posted on July 29, 2013 by Cancer Curmudgeon
A very special thanks to Tumblr buddy lux-fiam, who guided me as I struggled with this post, and to my IRL spoonie/fake psychiatrist/professor friend, with whom I fight The Overwhelming.
For the people who say “thanks for this.”
This post is about allowing myself and encouraging others to do cancer any way we damn well please.
Just prior to starting this blog, and in the hazy days of bouncing back from the treatment side effects, I was in a bit of a depression. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I had no time or energy to find blogs while I was actively in treatment and working my ass off. During treatment I was not happy with the rah-rah/pink/warrior culture that was the most prevalent form of support available (except in the diagnosed-under-40 support group, thank goodness). After I made some life changes, I was pleased to finally be able to take some time and dig around and find blogs or articles that said some of the thoughts that were more like mine, and I began blogging to interact a bit.
Around the same time I found other blogs, I had an epiphany. I was at some event last autumn with other cancer patients and expressing some anger. A fellow attendee started suggesting stress reduction methods, telling me that I must “accept” my cancer and ended her pseudo-lecture with “you can’t be angry all the time.” I was just so sick of this type of lecture; it wasn’t the first time I’d heard words of that nature. And BTW, I don’t think people mean the dictionary definition of “accept” when they tell me to do that; I think they really mean “shut up and sit down”.
There I was, a 40-year-old woman, being talked down to like a 6-year-old, because, being, ahem, a couple decades younger than most in the room, I was the youngster, the newbie; never mind I’d finished treatment already. I was not a cancer expert (and still am not), but I wasn’t a novice either, for crying out loud.
Then it hit me—why was I even listening? I can be angry if I want! I probably thought those sentences in the petulant voice of the 6-year-old me, but the minute I did, half the anger just fell away. And it continues to fall away still. By giving myself permission to be angry, sad, frustrated, etc., I become less so, especially with each post I write. Sure, anger & other bad company are still there, but in a weakened and more useful way–they inspire and motivate me, to speak up or write these posts. Whether they should be posted and sent into the blogosphere—I’ll get to that in a minute.
While I get that people who say “think positive/cheer up” and that sort of thing are well-intentioned, maybe even trying to help—the result for me is the opposite. I just get more pissed off, because in my mind, my feelings are being diminished, dismissed, blown off. That never feels good. Cancer sucks, but being told how to do cancer sucks too. Part of the crapfest that is cancer is the culture around it (especially true in breast cancer), and the culture demands conformity, and as I’ve said in previous posts, I cannot do conformity. It is great that the normal, socially acceptable warrior/pink/rah-rah methods work for the majority of folks, I can respect that. I’ve seen people swallow negativity and wondered if they could achieve better peace by letting it out, but it is not my place to tell them what to do. And I don’t want to be told what to do/how to handle cancer either.
This blog is to escape and to challenge all of the bullshit in the warrior cancer/don’t worry, be happy world that just does not ring true for me. Here, I express my thoughts in my way, no matter if they are angry, or blunt, or whatever other unpleasant adjectives can be applied to them. Here, I express my experiences of cancer without (much) self-censorship. My professional life before 2012 was very constricting, so I wanted a space where the rules, limits, deadlines, ideas were mine alone. This is that space.
I think many would tell me I should keep my ugly thoughts to myself; I should stop sending negativity out into the universe, or blogosphere. But my challenge to that attitude is this: why is expressing negative feelings automatically considered a negative action—why can it not be viewed as a positive, “working through it” technique, which is kind of the point of a lot of therapy? How can bad feelings be turned around if not confronted, if they are constantly submerged, denied, hidden politely away? And most of all, why is it assumed that expressing negativity means the one expressing it is negative on the whole, and somehow not capable of experiencing other emotions (sometimes simultaneously)?
My blogs are not read by many, but the few comments I’ve gotten here or on the other blog tend to say “thanks”, and some variation of “I thought I was the only one who felt that/this is what I’ve been trying to say.” So while many hear/read thoughts that make them uncomfortable (which might be behind some of the “get happy” suggestions rather than a desire to really help), those same thoughts provide comfort to a few. I remember all too well last October not knowing what search terms to use to find people with opinions similar to mine, and I remember all too well how relieved I was to stumble, bass-ackwards, onto blogs that did express such opinions. So if my blog is just one more place someone can stumble upon and find relief, then my own victory over anger & company is nearly complete. I hope your victory can be found here too.
Posting This One Again for Reasons Part 1
One Reason: LOTS of chatter on the interwebz about positivity lately. Advice that cancer patients should “be positive”. And I’m seeing a very disturbing lack of understanding for those who are labeled “negative” (although I do NOT label myself that way). My new favorite quote applies here: “You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist.” – Nietzsche
Another Reason: I’ve been really, really, REALLY busy—too busy to write. I sit down each day and skim stuff to read and then fall asleep before I can get started. Hope to change that next week.
Take the Mythical Image of the Strong Warrior Breast Cancer Survivor And Bury HER Once & For All
Posted on March 28, 2013 by Cancer Curmudgeon
Author’s note:
If you are a breast cancer “survivor” who embraces that ideal image–the pink products, the racing for the cure, etc.– I am truly happy for you. I mean that sincerely, without my usual dose of sarcasm. And just as sincerely, I beg you to stop reading this post, you will probably find it offensive. As nearly always, there will be foul language, because that is how I speak.
This post is for the ones who got breast cancer, and went into it doubting, or maybe at first embracing, what I shall henceforth refer to as The Image. It is for those of us who at some point realized we could not live up to The Image. And for those patients lost and unsure, feeling set adrift, away from the pink anchor. This post is for them–you–us. -anotheronewiththecancer, AKA cancer curmudgeon
Why do I propose this burial? Because I think this mythical image is dangerous. I’m tired of hearing or reading about women who feel they cannot live up to The Image; becoming depressed, maybe suicidal, because of the way this pressure made them feel. I’ve encountered this sort of despair a few times recently, and enough is enough.
I’ve used this comparison before, I think. Let’s say a gun is pointed at your head. Maybe you get shot. There will be blood, there will be pain, and you might die. At the most basic level, cancer is just like that, a gun pointed at the head. You get cancer, you will bleed, you will have pain, and you might die. Most people, when having a gun pointed at the head, would shit themselves. Breast cancer patients however, are expected to run a race, smile, and fight, fight, fight! Like a good little girl. Whoops did I just say that? So when these women cannot live up to the expectations, not only do they feel awful because they have cancer, but they feel like they are letting EVERYONE down, especially those who’ve supported them, but also the world at large that expects certain behavior from the breast cancer she-ro.THIS IS WRONG.
I get it, there is a desire to fit in, to find support somewhere, and the smiling pink parades look inviting. Some women find solace in the support of a sisterhood. (BIG ALERT: I’m an only child and glad of it, so the notion of sisterhood baffles me.) We all want to belong. One of the many problems is, The Image pretends to invite everyone, but it does not; it is actually quite exclusive–I’ll stop short of using the d-word. Dissenters and doubters with breast cancer are ostracized. Don’t believe me? Read Barbara Ehrenreich’s Bright-Sided: How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America. The first chapter is Ehrenreich’s description of her breast cancer experience, called “Smile or Die: the Bright Side of Cancer”. Some of the incidents she described were all too familiar (hint: a breast cancer patient suggested Ehrenreich get professional help for her “bad attitude” I got similar advice while making what I think is a valid point on Huffington Post). In my humble opinion, it should be required reading for ALL newly diagnosed breast cancer patients.
And notice I only mentioned breast cancer patients. But even not all breast cancer patients are invited, I’ve learned by reading blogs. I’ve read some ugly stories about the ones with Stage IV getting shut out of the “support system.” But of course, they are the awful reminder that breast cancer is not totally beatable, as we’ve been led to believe. “They” can never fit into the The Image. *I use they in quotes not to reflect how I feel about those with mets, but to reflect how I believe The Image machine views those with mets.
Guess who else is not invited to the pink party? Patients with ANY OTHER KIND OF CANCER. I hate that. Why are they excluded? That is a can of worms to open on another day, another post. I will offer this thought to ponder: is it because we just expect them to die, and by that I also mean get out of our sight, as an embarrassment like the mets breast cancer patients, because they cannot beat cancer and fulfill that stupid warrior stereotype? Ask your nearest ovarian or pancreatic cancer patient, they can tell you what’s up, in language you may not want to hear.
I knew pretty much from the get-go that I would not live up to The Image. For those who’ve read some of my other posts, it is pretty clear I was never the cheerleader-joiner type. So of course I’d be the glowering dissenter in the corner. Honestly, I did try to be a good patient (not just a good breast cancer patient). I followed orders, took tests, showed up at appointed times, eventually joined a support group. As treatment progressed I learned some hard lessons about following doctor’s orders, like the need to challenge medical proclamations handed to me, because mistakes were made, but that is another post.
I think I rejected the Pinktober stuff even before I was diagnosed. As an alt-punk Gen-Xer, I hate it when I am being sold to, and tend to look for the lies beneath all shiny images, and I knew The Image, along with the pink crap, was being SOLD to me. These days, as a breast cancer patient, the Pink just infuriates me, rather than simply annoying me on an intellectual level.
When some acquaintances walked in a pink event in my name, I was gracious, I love the little pink rubber- duckie they gave me, and I will never forget their kindness. But I won’t EVER walk or run, I won’t buy pink crap. I don’t need to go into the reasons why walk/runs are not effective fundraisers, nor need I explain that cancer simply cannot be shopped away. Other bloggers have done that, and if you’re still reading this post, you already know this.
That said, this post is not me saying, “Oooo look at me, I’m so clever and strong to have rejected The Image without ever falling into the trap”. On the contrary, the marketing, the peer pressure, in cancer communities is so prevalent, it is amazing anyone ever questions anything. No, this is me defending the ones–us–who don’t want to, or cannot fit into this distorted ideal, The Image. I mean that with more conviction than nearly anything I’ve ever said in my life.
I’m not going to go into how The Image developed, there are some good books out there about that. I am aware the advocacy movement started as a way to support women’s health, bring breast cancer out from the whispering shadows, so women could demand better treatment. This is a good thing. But in a few decades, the pendulum swung completely to the other side, to the point that we shout about breast cancer from the rooftops, and there seems to be subtle pressure to be damn near proud of having it while sporting pink clothes and bald heads.
Of course I’m glad breast cancer is out of the shadows, but in keeping with the insane American ideal of “if a little of something is good, a lot of it is better”, now it has gone over to the ridiculous. We need to bring the pendulum back. We need to slow down, find the middle ground. No more ideals, no more she-roes, survivors, warriors, no more hollow “you’re so brave” compliments. I’m no she-ro. I am no warrior. I am not brave, I screamed and cried raged often enough I assure you. I am simply a woman who found out she had a life-threatening illness, made logical, somewhat informed decisions to eliminate that threat, and tried to deal with all the emotional crap that came with it. I made these choices because I wanted to live, not die. It is that simple. Don’t ascribe these words and their hollow meanings to me and my experience, it is not your right to do so.
So to those breast cancer patients, or survivors or whatever you call yourself, who are struggling because you don’t think you are “doing cancer right”, I doubt this silly post will ease your pain. I can’t remove the pressure of The Image from your back, and maybe no one can do that but you. You will need to be the one to take this mass delusional Image and chuck her out the window, where she belongs. The only way The Image will cease to exist is if enough of us ignore her.
I am sorry if I come off harsh. A lifetime of being unable to conform to much has made me a bit rough around the edges at times. The cool kids or the mainstream (in breast cancer, in life) tend to be intolerant of “the other”, and since I usually fall into that category, I cannot help but be a bit snide about being an “outsider” all the time. I tried not to criticize or judge, but at times I feel criticized and judged by the mainstream pink community and it is hard not to reciprocate. I am ashamed of that because I am truly trying to be a better person.
I do not have any proposals on how to solve what I think is a problem (and yes, it is a problem if someone goes through cancer treatment successfully, and then wants to commit suicide for being unable to live up to The Image–no matter how you spin it). As usual, I am the jackass in the corner pointing out what is wrong without much of a constructive suggestion. I don’t have a degree in Sociology or Anthropology, which is probably what is required to understand the nature of the cancer subculture. If I could lead an army of like-minded folks down the highway in October, destroying every hint of pink I saw, I would do it, but I doubt that will ever happen. All I can think of to do is reject it for myself, and offer a helping hand to anyone else who wants to do the same.
My Way
I keep hearing some TV commercial using the Sid Vicious version of the song. Most folks prefer Sinatra’s classic interpretation, I’m sure. Some may hate the song altogether, no matter who sings it, and some may never have heard it. Such is the story around interpretations of songs. I’ll argue until I’m blue in the face that only Bing should sing “White Christmas”, I gag when I hear Clapton’s “I Shot the Sheriff” because I only like Marley’s, and Jeff Buckley’s “Hallelujah” is THE definitive version, and I violently turn off the radio if I hear Rufus Wainwright’s take on it (of course, since Cohen wrote it, I do listen to his versions, consisting of whatever selection of the many verses to the song).
The point of these musical musings is that everyone has their own point of view about how a song should be sung, and how cancer should be treated. While I can create my own playlist with my preferred versions, I would never insist on forcing my playlist on others, and I certainly do not suggest anyone do what I did with cancer—in terms of medical treatment choices, attitude, ANYTHING! But as anyone with cancer knows, it is damn near impossible to avoid anyone telling us how to do cancer.
Several days ago*, there was some small ripple on Twitter because a person told Lisa Adams to enjoy the time she has left—and stop fighting, what is it with people saying that?! The essence was, stop treating, accept that we all must die—that tired old message. Geez, not even a year after the Kellers decided Adams was not doing cancer to their liking—WTF!
At first I thought this person did not have cancer, and was just mouthing off. My gut reaction, to anyone who spews that “we all gotta go sometime and it is your turn now” crap is: hey, unless you are the one doing the dying, you have NO right to say that. We all gotta go sometime? OK, be my guest, I prefer to stay alive. And I still have that view—I’ve seen enough of that kind of sentiment expressed prior to this to be quite set about my view. (No, I do not have stage 4 cancer, and I do NOT have an opinion about how it should be handled, not even for myself—I learned during cancer that it is not possible to know what I’ll do in a situation unless I’m in it, will cross that bridge when I get to it).
After reading a few of the tweets tho’, I am guessing this person is also stage 4 and has decided to stop treating. That’s fine—for him or her, but not Adams or anyone else.
Cancer is a human issue, one that all humans must consider and discuss. The fact that money and time is spent on research for treatments that might benefit millions is a matter for public discourse. But there is a fine line crossed when one person tells another how to handle the same stage and/or type of cancer. I’ve said many times, cancer does not exist in a vacuum—two people may have very similar types of cancer, but there are too many other factors, medical and otherwise, that mean comparison is just off-limits. Sure, advice is fine, but the ultimate choice must remain with the individual. And just because any individual shares their story of choices on social media, it is NOT an invitation for criticism or questioning, or especially permission to “stop fighting”. (I’ve posted about the issue of whether sharing a cancer story invites public opinion before, here and here, and will likely do so again.)
My various playlists would likely give most folks a headache, switching from Morrissey to the Misfits to Metallica in moments. So I would not force them on anyone, hell I don’t even share them. Who cares? They’re mine. Same with cancer. The treatment path I took worked well for me, as did my post-surgery choices. Some may take the “way” of Ol’ Blue Eyes, and I’ll side with Sid’s “way”.
My Way. Your Way. The only WAY to do cancer, is the patient’s way.
*Several days ago—what can I say? I’ve been busy. So my posts about things are gonna be late. I write a post in my head when things happen, and hope I can get around to writing, but usually I don’t. I hope to write about many items—the Dr. Smith blog for one, but I can’t promise anything.
Cancer Fakers
I’ll never understand them. I came to the internet/world of social media, specifically starting on Tumblr, to connect with others who have my cranky views on cancer. Very early on I began interacting with someone who wound up being exposed as a fake. I was not particularly hurt by the incident, just kind of saddened.
Luckily, I did not interact with this most recent faker. I followed her for a time, but quit because her numerous inspirational posts were just not for me. So I am fortunate to not have the very hurt feelings I am seeing expressed by other cancer patients on Tumblr.
As my name, Cancer Curmudgeon, suggests, I am a cranky, socially awkward type who does not easily make friends—even on the interwebs. So the few I have met and love and call “friend”—both in CancerLand and in other areas in the wonderfully weird world of online fandoms—I value deeply. For me it is the best of this thing so derided and lauded: the internet; the way I can connect with others I would never have met IRL, because of distance. Having a faker mess that up, well, it just sucks.
It’s not that it is impossible to talk to people who do not have cancer, it’s just nice to connect with fellow patients who know exactly what I mean, who’ve been there. As much as I hate to say that those who’ve never had cancer don’t “get it”—because I think sometimes as a blogger it is my job to make others “get it”—sometimes it is true, and it’s nice to be with those who “get it”, without having to explain it. So at the risk of sounding exclusionary, to have a cancer faker run around in the midst, it just makes me want to retreat back into my shell. Naturally suspicious of others, I become even less trustful, less willing to share thoughts, to reach out.
I’ll never understand Munchausen’s, if that is the actual case with this faker, seegirllive. I do not even care to try. Why someone would pretend to have cancer when I’d give anything to not have had it, just baffles me and it is not worth my time to ponder it. I just hope this whole incident dies down, goes away. I need to get back to the business of keeping the beast of my upcoming scanxiety down, of my continued physical recovery, and trying to…well, I’ll never make sense or get around that WTF just happened feeling that happens when treatment ends, but at least I’m getting better at living with that feeling. So, forget about that cancer faker, and I hope all other fakers just stop it. I’ve got healing to do, so do others, get out of our way.
Hamster Wheel
Reposting Hamster Wheel.
The title of Marie’s Weekly Roundup today jogged my memory–I’d tackled the subject of my most recent post over a year ago. Wow. Still pretty much feeling the same…
Ouch That Still Hurts
This happened a few days ago. Just a couple of hours after I commented on another cancer blogger’s recent post that I am now less irked by the clichés people say to me, I got a message via Facebook from someone I had not spoken with in years, urging me to let go of all this cancer stuff.
Well I was a little more than irked. In fact I was quite hurt.
While the message was more personal than the trite “you’re so brave/ a warrior”, or “aren’t you a better person now”, it was still in the aren’t-you-over-it-now territory. There was a little bit of magical, fairy tale thinking to it. And it came from a person who’d had cancer many years ago, along with other personal tragedies, including a family member who died of breast cancer. So it was one cancer patient telling another how to “do” cancer.
I know the intention was one of goodness, this person truly wishes me well. But not having had an actual conversation with me in over five years, she has no clue where I am emotionally on anything, especially cancer. She managed to hit nearly every sore spot.
I blog for many reasons: to connect to others whose view or experience of cancer is not the sanitized TV version; to sort out the emotional fall-out; to express my rather cranky take on cancer so others, who feel the same way, don’t feel bad about it; to create a space for myself where I could vent without the lectures I’d received implying I was doing cancer wrong. I went back to Facebook earlier this year solely to create a page for my blog, in order to expand and strengthen connections to others with cancer. I use it as a source of news too, but that’s about it. I rarely post things about my life—I just hit like on the wacky things I like, at random. And oh yeah, this is why—as I’ve written often enough before, sometimes it’s just better to never discuss cancer with family or friends (I Can Pretend, My Reality and Your Fairy Tale, I’m Allowed).
I thought the stupid shit people said to cancer patients didn’t bother me as much as it did in the raw days during and after treatment. Nope, still does. Ouch, that unwanted advice still hurt me.
Heeeere’s Cancer!
I cannot take a break from cancer. It pops up even in my escape plans.
Several weeks ago I wrote a post about watching “60 Minutes” specifically to see Anderson Cooper interview someone much cooler than himself—Dave Grohl. Before the Grohl segment came on, I sat through a segment on embryo manipulation—removing the faulty BRCA mutation to end breast cancer. My little respite from cancer was invaded. Then a few days ago, I tuned into “The Daily Show” to see Grohl discuss his awesome History of American Music Cities again. And whaddya know, before his Royal Grohliness was interviewed, more breast cancer!
It’s not that I disliked the piece mocking the Komen-fracking-pink drill bits, indeed I loved it. I’m just fussing because every time I want to take a break from cancer and indulge in other interests, it pops up.
Grrrr.
I’ve discussed in older posts the concept of “getting over cancer”, how friends and family expect patients to just be “done”, they think that after treatment, things like recurrence, lingering side effects don’t matter. I’ve read many other bloggers discuss this topic. People ask, “aren’t you tired of talking about breast cancer?” Duh, yeah! But not talking about it does nothing to reduce risk for recurrence or a new cancer. Writing about it is the only thing helping me recover emotionally. Furthermore, look how unsuccessful I am when I do try to forget about it. Watching TV, escaping into music or whatever, cancer creeps in. I hardly ever get to the movies anymore, but the one I managed to take in, “Guardians of the Galaxy”, don’t ya know, opens with a scene of the hero as a child, his bald and weak mother in a hospital bed, dying right before the hero is whisked off into space to become this Guardian. I loved the film, but was very upset for those first few minutes.
Take a break from cancer? Yeah, I’d like to. Doubt it will ever happen tho’.
You’re A Mean One….
I have not been able to write and post lately. The final two months of the year are busy for a pet sitter, what with all the client travel. I’m so tired, when I sit down at any point and get online, the only thing I want to do is find Vines of animals mewing or barking, to entertain the pets I’m sitting. I really need to start making Vines of my own of my pets reacting to the sounds emanating from my devices.
The other reason is of course, I’m a Cancer Curmudgeon. This time of year CancerLand blogs are filled with posts about gratitude and joy, still alive in the face of cancer. I AM grateful to be alive after cancer, and grateful to be super busy right now—for the money, and the distraction that keeps me from focusing on my anxiety. 2014 has been my year of fear, and if I just keep moving, I don’t think too much. So I move.
It’s just that my blog is mostly an outlet for my rants, complaints, gripes, etc., and this time of year does not seem to be a good time to post such things. So I don’t. But that does not mean I have not found things that annoy the hell out of me.
I worry my curmudgeon-y-ness has made me incapable of seeing the good in anything. My ability to grouse even in the season of good cheer makes me think, oh man, what if I’m The Grinch?
I’ve found myself at odds with so many articles I’ve read about cancer lately. News tidbits that so many folks seem to rally around just piss me off. I do not like anything anyone says about breast cancer at all—whether they support the rah rah Pink stuff or criticize it. I don’t like Pink’s message, but I cannot seem to even agree with those trying to counter it! I don’t like anything—what is the matter with me?!! I am the worst breast cancer patient ever!
OK, maybe not. I’ve been doing some soul searching, thinking about why I blog, what I hope to achieve, etc., lately. I know I cannot offer counsel or advice, only a testimony of cancer as I see it, with the idea that if anyone sees cancer in some of the same way, they are comforted they are not alone in their views that are not exactly the “norm”. Because during and after treatment, I often thought, “am I the only one that thinks…”, I sought out blogs and began one of my own. I am the Cancer Curmudgeon, no more, no less. I notice whenever I tend to gain a few followers on social media, I lose a few. Guess I should post warnings about the nature of this blog and my attitudes more frequently. My only message is: if you think this, I thought so too. There are times I disagree with everyone, and everyone will disagree with me. “Oh well, whatever, never mind” (do I really need to list the source of that quote?). I hope that is enough for some.
Lovers of Dr. Seuss’s “Grinch” (the book and the 1966 cartoon, not that horrible Jim Carrey/Ron Howard film) know The Grinch finally learns the power/magic of Christmas, joins hands with the citizens of Whoville, sings that silly song, and carves the roast beast. So maybe being The Grinch is not all bad. I’ll likely never start holding hands and such in CancerLand, but I am capable of growing my heart—I hope that comes through in all of my grousing.
Maybe this post is just a roundabout way of saying: look out, more grousing to continue in 2015!
Uniform
Once upon a time, while walking a dog, I ran into an acquaintance and he introduced me to his wife. During the chat, it came up that I was a “survivor.” No lie, her immediate response was, “but you aren’t wearing your pink!” Actual quote—those words are seared into my brain.
I swallowed my irritation and said something inoffensive about how Pink does not really represent breast cancer in my opinion.
We left it at that. These are acquaintances after all, the kind of people to have polite, how-about-this-crazy-weather kinds of chats with; it can be hard to have deep conversations as a dog walker while trying to control barking, pulling, wriggling pets on a leash. I do not think my words about my disdain for Pink went far. I went on with daily tasks, and the incident haunted me the rest of the day, hell, it haunts me now. It was a one-two kick in the gut, that reaction, that statement. First (BAM!), the assumption that I had that particular cancer, and second (POW!), the assumption that as a result of having that cancer, I am obligated to don the Pink uniform.
Is it any wonder folks with other kinds of cancer, especially gynecological cancers, are so sick of breast cancer? I stood there, my female-with-cancer self, so within a split second the assumption was made I had breast cancer, because of the loud messages of Pink that breast cancer is the only one worth paying any mind.
To be fair, breast cancer is way more common than any other cancer except lung, and no one ever assumes lung cancer, at least for a younger woman with no cigarette stuck in her lips. So yes, most people are going to safely bet the favorable odds and assume a female “survivor” had breast cancer.
OK, I can maybe give her a pass on that assumption. But the second punch, aaarrrgghhh.
I had breast cancer, and therefore I MUST wear PINK every damn day? Really?! It was like, not only MUST I join in the Pink army, I have to SHOW IT by donning the uniform? Do folks really expect that?
Here’s the punchline to this story: the woman is a semi-retired nurse—who teaches intro to nursing classes at a local college. So I—unfairly, perhaps—expected more and better. I expect any medical professional to be a bit more savvy—would not their experiences, even for non-oncological nurses, inform them that there are all kinds of cancer? Don’t they see a more varied swath of patients and ailments? Am I really the first breast cancer patient this nurse encountered who disliked Pink?
This incident took place about a year ago. I did not write about for a few reasons. I was very busy, and in the few moments I did have to write a post, I was often distracted by other topics. Plus, I figured most breast cancer patients who are not fans of Pink have similar stories.
So why write it out now?
I keep remembering the incident because to me it seems almost like a fable or tale, telling what it is like to be a breast cancer patient–except it really happened. And the message of the story is simple: this is what the general public expects of breast cancer patients. We are to join the army, battle, and don the pink uniform—there is no room for different opinions, questions, challenges, or anything. Patients who do not conform just befuddle others. Those of us here in Cancerland know that there is no one right way to do cancer, but the general public does not understand this.
The recent months have been full of celebrity cancer stories, setting standards for ALL cancer patients, and much has been written about them—and yes I’ll contribute to all that chatter (when I get a chance to think and write). I know I will refer back to this story again. While I and others know it is acceptable to do cancer differently, that is not what the story on TV tells. And so, we are expected to don the Pink Uniform literally and figuratively.
anotheronewiththecancer 