I've always hated pink. Red was MY color; pink was more my sister's color. As it turns out, I've become more "pink tolerant" since I had breast cancer.
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I've always hated pink. My color was RED, my sister's was pink. Then I had breast cancer. The fateful mammogram was two years ago, and I had my oncology visit at the Breast Center this afternoon. When I walked back into my house afterward, I realized that the pen sitting by the telephone is pink -- even has a pink ribbon on the clip. No one else brought that pen into the house -- it was me.
The lock that I use when I go to the gym to introduce my titanium knees to the treadmill . . . pink, with a breast cancer ribbon on the dial. That was me, too. And the sneakers I had to buy this year in order to introduce my titanium parts to the treadmill . . . the color is listed as "Susan J. Komen".
They're pink.
The pink orchid in a pink cup sitting on the kitchen counter was the child's contribution, but when she gave it to me I didn't protest. Time was, I would have objected strenuously to the gift of anything pink from my family -- they should know better!
I have ALWAYS hated pink.
It turns out, I've become more pink tolerant after having breast cancer. I've got a pink breast cancer ribbon on my name badge at work. My co-chair on the Orientation Committee ordered 100 of them for our staff of 91 right after I went out on Medical Leave, and they all disappeared within a week. The NPs, Pas and MDs were wearing them in addition to our staff. Pharmacy, RT, OT and PT wore them in my honor. Iza had to order 100 more, and when I came back to work there were just enough to give me two. (I lost the first one the first day -- but that's a story for a "stupid nurse tricks" thread.)
The woman who did my bone scan before I started hormone therapy gave me a pink scarf. She asked me why I was having the bone scan, and I told her and then she told me that SHE was a breast cancer survivor of 20 years, and that the worst thing about the whole breast cancer ordeal was telling her mother.
Luckily, I was spared that.
My mother was already in the middle -to- end stages of her Alzheimer's, and she wouldn't have understood who I was or why she should care about my breast cancer, but the whole discussion would have made her sad. So we didn't have it. I told my aunts instead.
I had an easy ride with the breast cancer, as such things go. I was diagnosed early, the tumor was small and the sentinel nodes were clear. I was spared chemotherapy, and although the surgery and radiation therapy weren't a picnic, I was so lucky and grateful to have been spared chemo. I had plenty of breast tissue to spare, and after the bilateral lumpectomy and reconstruction, I still had plenty of breast tissue, but a whole lot less of it. What's there is real. I'm lucky there, too.
I've been a survivor for a year and a half. My chances of a recurrence lessen every year, and I'm optimistic about the future.
I stopped at the mall on the way home, and one of the things I bought was nail polish. It's pink.
