I am afraid of the unknown, of what I can't control. I've always feared this void, but the terror appeared its darkest when I was staring at the ultrasound screen of a biopsy.
The lump in my throat wasn't nearly as paralyzing as the lump I'd found in my left breast two months earlier. The utter shock of feeling something the size of a marble in the place that women fear most is overwhelming.
Admit it: you never think it can happen to you. I certainly never did. The guides I collected gathered dust instead of hanging from the shower or on a door; they simply seemed redundant because, of course, "It's not going to happen to me."
Yet, there I was.
Some think it's just repetitive. Pink, pink, pink. Pink shirts, pink key chains and pink accessories, all complemented by pink ribbons. Shades of pink dominate the month of October and flow delicately through the next 11 months, until pink can reign once more.
Despite the frequency, a majority of women (and men) still abandon self breast exams.
At this point, it is not too late to check your breasts. I wish I could say "It's never too late," but the fact is, the longer you wait, the further the cancer spreads, and the lower the chances of survival become.
At stage four, the last stage of breast cancer, less than 3 percent of patients have long-term survival or complete remission. By this point, the cancer spreads to other organs and tissues, and is considered incurable.
Breast cancer takes less than five years to reach this stage.
At stage zero, the cancer has not spread and it is highly treatable.
There's a reason for all of the pink. It's to support the 2.5 million breast cancer survivors in the United States, to fight alongside the 209,060 women and men who were recently diagnosed, and to honor the 40,230 voices lost to breast cancer so far this year.
The days following my biopsy appointment were long and painful.
The pain in my breast felt like I had been stabbed with a skewer. I didn't realize that I would be wearing a sports bra for three weeks or that I would bruise like a banana. I also didn't realize that it would still hurt.
I couldn't eat or sleep. I couldn't go to school or work. I simply felt ill all of the time. The idea of cancer consumed my state of mind, whether I had cancer or not.
Luckily, the lump in my breast was benign.
No, I didn't have cancer. And no, I don't know what it's like to have cancer. But I do know that it's a horror story which remains a mystery. There is no cure, no miracle and no answer.
Here I am, with a scar and a story. However insignificant they each may seem, they are not, because both are reminders of the lives lost in this relentless battle.
People go through this fear every day. People are certain they have cancer, but are not certain how long they will live in this world. I went through this for two weeks and was impaired beyond all belief, but they fight through this daily.
That idea in itself is strong enough to make mountains move. But the people are stronger.
So when you see the swarm of pink next year, embrace it. Recognize its familiar face and accept its purpose. Until then, keep a bit of pink around to remind you to check your breasts and to inspire you to encourage your family and friends to do the same. t&c;
