Breast Cancer Awareness Month: I Blinked and I Missed It

Well, for all of October I meant to blog about the fact that it was Breast Cancer Awareness Month. And now it's November.

All month I waited for a checkout clerk to ask me if I'd like to "donate to the cause today" because I had my response all ready: "No thanks, I already donated my breasts." (Funny! No?)

But, alas, they never asked, even though they sometimes would ask the people in front of me. Maybe it's because it's painfully obvious, most of the time, that I've had cancer. So obvious that total strangers have come up to me to talk to me about it. One time I literally wanted to say: What, am I wearing a sign or something? Because it seems like people not only know I've had cancer, they know it was breast cancer (even though I wear the jelly boobs--or joobs, as we call them in this house).

Granted, sometimes if I wear a wig I think I can hide things pretty well. But most of the time it's just out there. Obvious to the casual observer. Which used to bother me a bit, because I didn't like standing out in a crowd. But several months ago my sister offered me some perspective on this.

Deb has a dear friend who lost a child recently. Her friend told her one day that she wished she could wear clothing that signified she was still in mourning, still hurting--like the torn clothes talked about in Old Testament times, or the black garb and veil of more recent centuries. Because she was hurting on the inside and she needed a way to remind the people around her.

With cancer, you wear your pain out in the open. People can tell just by looking at you that you just went through hell. And while I'm really tired of not having hair and really anxious to begin breast reconstruction, I have to say that I've grown to appreciate the fact that I can walk into a grocery store and have other survivors come up and hug me and encourage me.

When the signs disappear, it's possible the support will too. So for now, I'm trying to be grateful that I don't blend into the crowd and that for perhaps the only October of my adult life, nobody asked me if I'd like to donate for the cause.

(And don't worry, next year I'll be donating to the pink ribbon people like crazy and I'll be bugging you to as well!)