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My last short fiction instructor told us not to write about cancer. "It's been done," she said. Well, the hell with that. I learned in the last three weeks that I have stage III breast cancer. Writing, painting, and assorted other arts are how I process stuff, in addition, of course, to long conversations with friends. These conversations have begun in earnest these recent days, but I realized my Facebook page in particular was in danger of becoming a medical-update site. I do not want that. My life is still going to be about more than cancer, as much as that may not seem possible right now. Also, I don't want to alienate friends who are not ready to walk this particular valley with me at this time. For example, one elderly friend who called to cheer me up this week can't even handle the "c-word," and there is no way she will be up for any truly frank discussion of what's about to happen here. So she is advised to keep in touch with me via Facebook. People who are comfortable with the c-word, honest discussion and occasional cursing are welcome to join me here.

Friday, November 2, 2012

One year, cancer free!


                It was one year ago yesterday that my radiation oncologist told me I am “cancer-free,” as far as anyone knows. I only know this because it turns out my daughter, Julia, started keeping a diary the day I was diagnosed. She has, so far, filled up a paper diary and part of a hard drive with it. I did not know that. It goes to show you that cancer affects everyone, not just the patient. Anyhow, she looked it up and congratulated me on my anniversary.

Different people celebrate their cancer survivorship on the anniversaries of different milestones. I think my big celebration will always be March 9, the day I was diagnosed. That day is etched in my mind as the day everything changed. On November 1, not much happened except I had finished radiation, on schedule, and had a quick meeting with the oncologist. I remember it more from being told I would never be “cured,” than from being told I was already “cancer-free.” I suspect Julia prefers the Nov. 1 date because she is at heart an optimist and she would rather celebrate a more-upbeat occasion.

                The start of November also means I need to announce the winner of my month-long contest on Facebook in which I asked people to submit photos of the most offensive pink ribbons they could locate during Pinktober. There were some doozies! It was hard to choose the winners. Some pink ribbons were more ugly, some were more obviously not going to raise any money for actual cancer-relief purposes, and some were on products more likely to cause cancer than to cure it. So I just settled on what I found personally the nastiest.

                I disqualified a couple of photos people sent me, because while they were pink and awful, I could not be sure the items depicted were real. Steve sent me a photo of a pink tank he found online. It was awful, but possibly Photoshopped. My son, Matt, also located an image of some cigarettes with pink ribbons on them, but again, I think someone created them just for the irony of it. Steve also found a photo of a truly offensive (but pink) AK-47, but instead of pink ribbons it had Hello Kitty logos. Not good enough!

                I disqualified two of the best entries on the grounds that they were mine, and since I am also the contest judge, that would have been a conflict of interest. But they were preposterous. One was the large, juicy-looking steaks Safeway was advertising with pink ribbon stickers all over them. The other one, also at Safeway, was Mike’s Hard (pink) Lemonade with pink ribbons all over it.  My doctors tell me that alcohol and extra fat are things that can actually cause breast cancer, so I think these pink ribbons were particularly questionable. But I can’t win my own contest, so the winners are:

 Third place goes to my daughter, Julia, who found a remarkably ugly car air-freshener in the shape of a lurid pink ribbon that looked more like a condom or something. I am sure it did not raise money for anything useful.  Second place goes to Kathy Bittinger, who found some pink Porta-pots of Awareness.  And, drumroll please, first place for the ugliest/least sensitive use of a pink ribbon goes to Kathleen Morrish, who found a horrible urn with a pink ribbon on it. Seriously. It’s depressing enough to have cancer, without having to imagine your bodily remains spending eternity in something like that! (Note to friends and family:  When I die, scatter my ashes on a mountain in Montana. Do not keep them on the mantle in an ugly urn with a pink ribbon on it!)

By the way, Kathleen’s prize is a coyote-ugly Tape Dispenser of Awareness. I believe 50 cents of the purchase price actually goes to a bonafide cancer charity, so it’s not entirely pointless, and if your tape needs dispensing, hey, look no further. But boy, it is ugly.

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