Bring humanity back to October
courtesy photo
Laura Simpson, Polson
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Fall is most certainly in the air. As I walked into a store this morning I was greeted with a bouquet of beautiful apples, the smell of cinnamon brooms, and the sight of pumpkins and calico corn.
Then I glanced to the left and I was bombarded with pink. Pink T-shirts, pink socks, pink pajamas. Anything and everything they can make pink, they did. It’s all pink in the name of Breast Cancer Awareness.
October is just a few days away so stores are busy putting pink on the shelves. I have to admit, I used to be one of the first ones to sport the gear. (Just because I liked pink and thought it was cute.) Now, every year by the middle of October I can’t wait for the month to be over so I no longer have to acknowledge it. I know … reading this you think, “what a cynic.”
I feel like somewhere along the way the truth of breast cancer has become watered down to, “If I put on some pink I’ve done my part.” I’m by no means saying that’s the case for everyone. I know the debate can go on and on about what type of awareness is true and right. I mean, isn’t anything that gets people talking about it raising awareness?
Don’t get me wrong, I think breast cancer walks and runs are important. I did them myself. I’m just asking you to go deeper. My goal for anyone and everyone taking time to read this will be truly to think before they pink during the month of October. Be a smart consumer when buying a breast cancer awareness product. Does it go to a charity that is truly a charity? Also, when you are wearing the product, take the time to really think about the person you are wearing it for. If they are currently fighting, ask yourself, “How can I make a difference in their life? How can I help?” Even something as simple as preparing a meal can make such a huge difference in the life of someone who’s fighting cancer. And remember, not all cancers are pink.
I know by now you are thinking, “What does this person know about cancer? Well, I promise you, I have validity. You see, six years ago I was diagnosed with metastasized melanoma at 28 years old. I was told I had a year at best. I ended up having to undergo a radical hysterectomy, as well as multiple bladder reconstruction surgeries, chemo and radiation.
Soon after that I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, and if that wasn’t enough, breast cancer as well. Along with the breast cancer, I underwent a radical double mastectomy followed by multiple attempts of reconstruction — which, in the end, wasn’t meant to be. I also underwent a spinal surgery replacing two disks in my spine, and multiple removals of in situ (non-metastasized, earliest stage) melanomas throughout the outer layer of my skin. When all was said and done: 32 surgeries in all.
And it’s far from over because I have a rare genetic disposition called Li-Fraumeni Syndrome, a TP53 gene mutation. Everyone has a TP53 gene in their body. The gene assists in repair or destruction of “bad” DNA, preventing abnormal or cancerous growth of cells.
The mutation of TP53 allows damaged cells to grow and multiply, thus spreading the uncontrolled growth of cancer cells throughout my body like wildfire.
Now that you understand a little bit about this past six years, let me introduce you to my best friend, Dani, aka “little sis.” She carried such a giant piece of my heart that my eyes are welling up with tears just to mention or think of all I could say about her. Dani was born Feb. 23, 1985 and passed away Aug. 25, 2012 of malignant breast cancer, leaving behind the most incredible, beautiful little girl; a husband who loved her very much; and a family made up of friends who moved mountains just to see her smile. The last few weeks Dani was here with us she spent in hospice. I spent every moment I could with her. I was there holding her hand when she passed. It was one of the worst moments of my life.
All because of cancer.
The more I live life, the more I realize that although people are different, we’re all very much the same. We speak different languages, have different cultures, values, religions, and physical traits, but we all share common hopes and dreams of love, family, and most importantly — survival.
It’s not all pink ribbons and cancer walks. It’s a person, it’s a mother, sister, friend, cousin, father, brother, aunt, uncle, grandmother or grandfather.
So let’s do something daring. Instead of just wearing pink, or participating in the No Make-Up challenge, or the silly games that go around on Facebook, let’s share a video. (See link below.) Let’s see how far this video can go.
Everyone chooses to handle his or her walk differently. After all I have been through, I have to hold on to hope, prayer and love, because, like the song’s title, “I Am Worn.”
As long as cancer exists our lives will always be at risk. Cancer is ugly, harsh, exhausting — and we need a cure.
(Editor’s note: Laura Simpson writes a blog at http://lovelosskidscancer.wordpress.com. To see a video depicting her walk with cancer, through her eyes, visit http://youtu.be/rfuPjtajE4M )
