Pink is Power

You may not realize this, but October is a very special month. Not only are the leaves exploding in color, and we finally have an excuse to wear clothes we bought on a Clearance rack by mistake and can pass them off as “Halloween costumes,” but October is also a month-long celebration of something very close to my heart. Officially it is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and tomorrow, October 29^th, is Wear It Pink Day! On this day we ask everyone to wear pink and donate a minimum of £2 ($3) to the Breast Cancer Research funds (to donate or find out more talk to me or go the website here: http://www.wearitpink.co.uk/ )

To me, the word “cancer” was like watching a horror movie – if I covered my eyes, it would disappear and not affect me. That was, until it invaded my own life. Almost two months ago, my mother, our Warrior Woman, was diagnosed with Stage 2 breast cancer. The diagnosis could no have come at a worse time for her, either. I had only left for Scotland a week before, and my sister had left for university three days prior. My dad, our Superman, was and is an amazing rock of strength. But the fear of the unknown was strong, and none of us knew what we were heading into.

To give a little help, I flew home last week to surprise SuperMom right before her first chemo treatment. Dad and I had been planning the visit for weeks, and we were bursting with excitement to finally execute it. Before we arrived at the house, he dropped me a block away so that he had time to return to the house like normal. I walked up and rang the doorbell, giggling with excitement to surprise Mom. The door opened, and Mom stood behind it, calm as ever.

“Hey! How are you?” she asked, as if I was the friendly neighbor just dropping by. Her calm reaction threw me a bit off guard.

“Hi Mom… I’m good…?”

We stood there awkwardly for a long pause before the shock hit her. Slowly she asked, “Wait. What are you doing here?!” I was then allowed inside the house, where Dad was cracking up in the background. It turns out that poor Mom had taken a good few muscle relaxers just before I arrived, and she can now vouch for them and say they can mellow any situation!

None of use knew what to expect when Mom started the chemotherapy treatments. Personally, I was not prepared for the long Infusion Room lined with rows of reclining chairs and IVs. I had imagined a private room, not a party of patients. On the one hand, the sight can be heart-wrenching. Patients in all stages of cancer and treatment are there, from the very elderly to the elementary school children. Seeing a six-year old cancer patient hooked up to a million IVs will change your life perspective immediately.

On the other hand, each one of the patients is fighting for normalcy, but willingly and gladly. The atmosphere in the long, white room is not depressing; instead, it’s encouraging. Patients and their families bring in cakes and drinks to share; everyone shares their stories as well, and after the nearly six hours of Mom’s chemotherapy I walked out with an entirely new perspective on my life. For example, the patient sitting next to Mom, we’ll call him Gerry, was with his wife. They cracked jokes the entire time, swapping stories about Gerry’s bad reactions to morphine and experimental cancer drugs. Even though I watched the chemo meds slowly drain Gerry’s energy as the hours passed, he never stopped smiling, and took a sincere interest in my family, even sending me a wedding package the following day. Later I learned that the couple have two young children, and that Gerry is suffering from melanoma cancer in his brain and have yet to find a cure. This man has no idea when he will be able to leave the hospital or live a normal life with his family, yet he still finds something to laugh about every minute, even regarding his own failed treatments. It made me ashamed of how I have treated my own life: of any complaints I’ve ever made, of any negative comments I’ve ever voiced. Gerry still walks everyday with God and with laughter, just like my Mom. They are such an inspiration, like modern-day superheroes. They taught me that each of us must face a storm or two in our lives. For Gerry and my mom, it’s more like a hurricane. But ten years from now, we will all be able to look back on this. And when we do, we can either remember the storm clouds or remember how we danced in the rain.

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for reminding me of that.

Wear It Pink Day is Friday, October 29, 2010. Please wear pink, donate money, or at least say a prayer to raise awareness and to help find a cure for all our superheroes out there. If you would like more information on how to help, contact myself or visit this website:

http://www.wearitpink.co.uk