I love October. Mostly because I love pink. And in October everything you could ever need from spatulas to trashcans to Oreos come in pink. And I love it.
Really everyone knows its not just about pink, its about boobs. Or more specifically, boob cancer.
Tomorrow, I'll have a rant for you and Wednesday and Thursday I'll have other cancer posts, but for today, let's talk about breasts, baby.
My grandmother, on my father's side was a teacher. She was kind-hearted and patient. She was gorgeous. And talented.
She was a devoted wife even though my grandfather was a cad.
She could find anything that anyone had lost.
She was gentle and considerate, loving and giving.
She also had breast cancer.
Everything that I've told you above is pure hearsay to me, because she died in 1979. I never met her.
When I was a little girl, I used to think that if only Grandma were here then someone would have understood me. That if she were alive then I would have had an ally.
I have no idea if that's true. Just like I have no idea if any of the above is true.
I never knew her.
But I do know that she didn't have to die.
She didn't find the lump until it was late. And she didn't do anything about it until later.
I could quote you facts and figures, but you can read them for yourself here.
The major point is that breast cancer is not a death sentence. It is a treatable illness.
But not if you don't take care of yourself and do your exams as you should.
No child should lose their mother, or grandmother or aunt.
No woman should lose a friend.
And a breast is not worth your life.