Bracing for the Impact of Pinktober

It's almost the end of September, can you believe it? I can't. I'm already bracing for impact. This is the time of year I hate most, not the end of September per se, but the beginning of October. Why do I hate October, well, it's because this will be my 10th Pinktober. 

Pinktober is a phrase that was coined when the Susan G. Komen Foundation made pink ribbons their world famous logo. The ribbon was chosen to represent the founder's beloved sister who passed away from breast cancer. I'll have to admit, Pinktober is a cute name for Breast Cancer Awareness Month, but I don't like pink. 

When I was a little girl, my Mom wanted to dress me up in frilly pink dresses, but I hated them. I wasn't a girly girl. I was a bonafide tomboy. Pink reminded me of Pepto Bismal and that over the counter medication always made me think of illness. Whenever I had a stomach ache, that was the go to remedy.
To this day, I hate the color of Pepto Bismal. 

I don't know why I have such an aversion to pink. It's probably because, in my mind, pink represents femininity and I've never felt very feminine. 

When most girls my age were watching their bosoms develop into those of young women, I remained flat as a board. When they wanted to play dress up or play with dolls, I wanted to be outside climbing trees. I always felt like there was something wrong with me. I didn't fit the mold of what a little girl should be - all dainty and cute. I was more of a ripped jeans and t shirt kind of girl. I was the one with unkempt hair and dirty under my nails. And speaking of nails, to this day I don't get manicures or pedicures. To me they're a waste of time. 

This past weekend, my husband and I came home from a week long vacation. My son had invited us to join him in the mountains. He has a timeshare in North Carolina and knows how much getting out in nature means to me. We agreed to meet him at work and pick him up so we could travel together. It was going to be a great time of rest and relaxation. We were looking forward to it. 

One day, we decided to go hiking. There were several waterfalls nearby. We loaded up the car and headed out. It was a gloriously beautiful day. The sun was shining and it was a mild 72 degrees. When we got out of the car and headed for the trail, I noticed my son was wearing a t shirt his company designed for breast cancer awareness. Across the back of his shirt was the name of his company, beneath that was an American flag with a bright pink breast cancer ribbon on the far right. Beneath that were the words "What's Important Now." The W, I, and N were also in bright pink. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, my son had worn that shirt to let me know he loved and cared about me. It was special to see he and his company wanted to be part of sharing the importance of breast cancer with others. 

Pink breast cancer ribbons are on almost everything now, not just during the month of October, but that's when they're a little more visible. 

I have to say, before my own diagnosis, I rarely paid attention to the pink ribbons. The first year after diagnosis, I wanted everything I saw that had a breast cancer ribbon on it. I purchased hats, t shirts, purses, tennis shoes, you name it, I had it. Now, I don't want a thing with a pink ribbon on it. I guess you could say, after 10 years of being submerged in a sea of pink, I'm over it. At first I swam hard in that sea. A few years later, I relaxed and floated lazily along. Now I'm treading water wondering, if one day, I'll be thrust into the sea of pink again. 

I don't like pink, as previously stated, and I especially don't like pink ribbons. Yes, they are a good thing in many ways - they make people stop and think about breast cancer or perhaps, remind them of someone dear they've loved and lost to the disease. Whatever the case, as I said in an article I wrote back in 2018, "One thing is for sure, that little pink ribbon is a symbol known all over the world. No words need to be spoken. The meaning is clear. Breast cancer can affect men, women, and even children. It touches the lives of all races and religions. Breast cancer is nasty business and changes lives forever. And if we can make sure people understand that, while offering information on prevention and care, then I say, Brace yourself, the tide is rising, the water is gathering at your feet." 

Pink makes you think, especially when it colors that famous ribbon. I pray this year, as you see them pop up, they'll remind you of two things: 

1. The importance of breast self exams and regular mammograms. 

2. Not to forget that breast cancer isn't a respecter of persons. It can strike anywhere, anytime and may affect someone you love.

 

 

Will the health challenges ever end?

I wish I'd understood how age affects one's health. Even though I saw it first hand, I didn't grasp the concept as my in laws and my parents began to decline. I knew their stamina would wane, that's just part of life, but to fully understand the challenges of aging, I think one must have first hand experience. 

By today's standards, I'm not really old. Yes, I'm closer to 70 than 60, but to me, that's still pretty young. I don't necessarily feel my age. Perhaps that's because I push myself day in and day out. Since my cancer diagnosis back in 2014, I've pushed even harder than ever before. I've often asked myself why, but when I think about it, I believe the feeling I need to use up every minute of every day is rooted in the fear of wasting time that I am not guaranteed to have. Funny how a disease can impress that on you. 

This year has been extremely challenging. I've been hospitalized more times than I can count. Some of those hospitalizations were planned surgeries and others, complications of surgeries or unexpected issues that snuck up on me when I least expected them. 

I don't like hospitals but I will say I feel comfortable in them. I know, even in hospitals where the care isn't the greatest, I will receive some care. That gives me a weird form of security, but I have to say, the last few visits to the ER were definitely not good experiences. In fact, they were pretty bad and I'm not just talking about personnel, I'm talking about uncleanness and ineptitude. I never thought hospitals in our city would be that way. How naive of me! 

Today I had a CT scan on my knee. I wasn't expecting to do it so soon. On my last visit to the bone and joint center, I'd had a good many x-rays done. My poor left knee had been giving me problems for the past 2 years. I'd already had a lateral menisectomy and a condroplasty on it. I'd also had 4 cortisone shots. Those bought me some time, but the doc said we were now at a point of making the choice to better my quality of life or keep winging it with medical patches. He said the x-rays revealed my situation was now bone on bone. There was nothing left to do other than a complete knee replacement...OH JOY! 

I wondered why they wanted a CT scan after I'd received this news, but the medical assistant cleared it up for me. She said they needed the scan in order to make my prosthetic joint. When she said that, I became very quiet. 

My poor body has been through a lot. In fact, sometimes I wonder how I'm still alive with all the pieces and parts I have missing. You could say I'm a miracle, but I think God isn't done with me yet and that's why He keeps letting me go through one health trial after another. 

I keep hoping my kids will see and understand the things I didn't as my parents were aging. If they lived closer, I imagine they would. I don't ever want to have to need their help, but eventually it will come down to it. 

Aging joints, lack of strength, needing to rest more often, random aches and pains - I've got all of those, I'll admit. It sucks, to be honest. I'd love to have the strength from my youth again, but that won't ever happen. 

If this surgery can make me more mobile, I'll be thankful. I don't look forward to all it entails, but sometimes you do what you have to do to keep going. 

I've got my walker fitted with little gliding tennis balls and I'm psyching myself up for physical therapy. Just like the train in the Little Engine that Could, a story I used to read my children when they were small, I'm telling myself, "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can..." I sure hope I'm right. I don't ever want to be confined to a wheelchair again like I was after my awful car wreck in 1990. That was a time of excruciating pain and trauma. My right tibia and fibula were completely

crushed and it took almost 3 years for me to be able to walk without pain again. Thank goodness it's the left leg this time. Boy, I'm glad we only have 2 legs!