We hear about cancer and we know plenty of people affected by it. As most people on campus know, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. People hand out ribbons and give us health tips. From time to time, someone we know that has had breast cancer may run through our heads. We sign up for Race For the Cure or wear a pink ribbon. For the most part, this is just a part of the year. It’s another month with another cause and another colored ribbon. It doesn’t affect us directly. Sure, a family friend or a grandparent may have had it or died from it, but we still seem to give this month a simple passing nod, rather than an embrace. It sure goes that way, that is until one day it does hit home.
During spring semester of my freshman year, I received a phone call that shook me and my family to its core. I remember I was standing in the Reid Hall bathroom, on the 4th floor when my mom said something along the lines of “I had a biopsy on a lump in my breast and it wasn’t benign.” The word “cancer” wasn’t used but every other term surrounding cancer was. After that sentence came out, all I could catch was “stage 2” and “grade 3.” I felt my face get hot and eyes brim with tears. My mom couldn’t have breast cancer. That simply could’t happen to my family.
It turns out that my mom was very fortunate, considering the situation. A double mastectomy allowed her to avoid radiation and chemotherapy. We were “lucky” and she was going to be ok. Despite the good news medically, the emotional affects were still present. A series of reconstructive surgeries still left her unsatisfied and the frustration and anger associated with this disease was ever present. Nonetheless, we were fortunate and have an incredible amount of things to be thankful for. It could have been worse.
As much as survivors often see this experience as “could have been worse,” that doesn’t lessen the damage or pain. It simply minimizes it. I have seen numerous friends lose loved ones, even parents, to different forms of cancer and I have seen the kind of devastation that ripples through loved ones. My mother’s story may be one of “luck” or “survival,” but there are two facts that never change; this disease kills too many people and even those that survive or are “lucky,” experience a pain that can devastate a household.
The facts remain that breast cancer is still claiming too many lives and damaging many others. With that being said, these things are also true for all forms of cancer. There is a moment of fear you never forget upon receiving that life-changing phone call. There is an emotional torment of “what’s next?” every moment of the day. There is an unimaginable level of discomfort and resentment for the distortions and tolls it takes upon your body. There is a life-long pain for those that lose family members or loved ones to this merciless disease. With effects this devastating, breast cancer and cancer in general, has to be stopped.
I thank God everyday for how blessed my family has been, given the situation. I am incredibly thankful because it could have been much worse. Still, that doesn’t erase the pain it caused and it doesn’t change the other tragic scenarios I’ve seen play out for friends and acquaintances. As normal humans, not scientists or doctors or researchers, we can only do so much. Cancer is a disease that leaves victims and their family members feeling like they have no control. It is easy to feel like we remain out of control because we can only donate $20 here and there or “raise awareness,” but that isn’t the case. We can continue to educate and continue to keep ourselves healthy. We can keep a check on our own health and we can do our best to take hold of what is within our control. Essentially, we can lower the risks and we can remain aware. However, the control we have doesn’t stop there.
We have the ability to reach out to people and relate to people. As humans and especially as women, we have the ability to step forward and take back emotional control. We can put our anger into fighting this disease. We can put our sadness into remembering and speaking for those we lose to this disease. We can put our pain and experience into sympathizing and relating to others. As individuals we can not stop this disease. What we can do is give when we are able, spread the word and takes steps towards prevention, speak out for those who can’t, and help those who are suffering.
I have learned a lot of things and so has my whole family. We learned that my mother is incredibly strong and we are proud of her for that. We learned that for the most part, we were lucky. Are lucky. We faced something terrible and it didn’t win, something not all who are faced with it can say. We learned that despite our “luck,” the pain and anger is still present. We learned that many others are still being claimed by this illness. Most importantly, we learned that we aren’t powerless. It is quite the opposite. I can’t give medical advice or psychological help but what I can tell you is that no matter how powerless you feel, you aren’t. If there is one lesson I could tell others this month, it would be that we can and must take the power that we do have. We don’t control what is given to us or our families, but we do control what we take out of it and what we do from there. This month, be thankful for your loved ones. And when you get the chance, take your anger, sadness and pain, and do something proactive and beautiful with it.
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