It’s October and across the United States a sea of pink is in place. Pink ribbons, t-shirts, turbans, and signs all urge people to be aware of breast cancer. Susan G. Komen For the Cure sponsored walks and community health center high teas, featuring survivors and sweets, are all on board with the need to know about the disease and fight for funds to inform, as well as the continued need for research funding.
Daily I speak with women who have been diagnosed with breast cancer. They contact me because they have lost health insurance and are desperate for a way to pay for treatment. Our program is their last resort. Some come who have stopped treatment. They can no longer pay and so cancel their appointments. Their oncologists plead with them to continue, but without insurance they see no other way. It’s their voices that I hear when I see the pink ribbons. When women contact me, they are rightfully angry. They have usually lost their jobs, with the loss of their jobs they lose their insurance, with the loss of insurance they lose their treatment, with the loss of treatment, they ultimately lose their chance at survival. I’m not being dramatic. This is fact. It’s a domino effect. Their anger is not at me, it’s at a broken system, but I’m the one who is best situated to receive it. It’s a sea of angry pink.
While to those who have never been affected by breast cancer, all the pink may seem like a cute, little campaign, to those affected the pink ribbons are symbolic of their lives. There is a quiet desperation and determination to make sure women in the future have the best possible options for treatment and survival.
I have learned much from working with these women and I receive far more credit than I deserve from them. It is some of the reflections that I have heard that have affected me the most. My friend Chien-chi said this:
I wasn’t afraid of losing my breast. I wasn’t afraid of losing my hair. I was afraid of losing my mind!
Chien-Chi is Chinese and has used her experience to be a passionate advocate for women in her community to learn about breast cancer and take advantage of early screening. She has moved her passion from heart to paper, from paper to funder, and from funder to program. I am privileged to be a small part of her program to educate the Asian American community in the Boston area about breast cancer.
So I rarely use my role as a nurse in this blog but if you are a woman and you read this you can do a couple of things. As you see the pink ribbons, don’t think of them as pink ribbons, but think of them as women, each of whom are going through a long journey and process. Read up and talk to your doctor about breast cancer and your individual risk factors. And lastly, if you don’t have insurance and need to be screened, be aware of this program: The National Breast and Cervical Cancer Early Detection Program. It is present in all 50 states, Washington DC, and 5 US Territories and 12 tribes. I know there are varying opinions of government-funded programs but I have worked in this program off and on for over 11 years and can say, without hesitation, that the amount of money spent on the program is nothing compared to the number of lives saved – lives of moms, sisters, grandmas and friends. So – that’s my shout out to the sea of pink that may surround you during October.