Broken

My body is broken. It's partly the effects of harsh chemo-therapy, partly due to my own neglect. But right now, what hurts more than my knees and ankles, is my heart.

Her story was a tragic one, the kind that would make a great movie if it weren't true. No kid should have grown up like she did. She didn't have much of a childhood at all, and spent her adolescence as more of a home maker than a teenager.

I always wanted to save her and her siblings. I had dreams of stealing them all away for a week and taking them to Disney World. I wanted to spoil them rotten, to let them just be kids, to let them have fun.

I wanted to rip them away from their father, who treated them more like property than kids, who failed to provide, who hid behind a religious mask and an air of superiority, who did far more harm than good.

I wanted to help.

I wanted to love them how they deserved to be loved. I was able to do a little for the younger ones, but not for her. I was too young at the time. I couldn't support myself let alone someone else. Besides, I didn't have reason. I didn't have cause. I didn't have the truth.

Now, she is gone. A life ravaged by every evil imaginable has ended. I don't blame her for the vices she turned to in order to dull the pain. I don't condemn her for not turning to the God she once knew. The evil of this world overtook her. It was more than she could bear.

I don't know how she died. I don't know much of how she lived. I only know that I loved her. And although I feel that I am partly to blame, I know that I am not.

I mourn the life she might have had. I mourn my family's loss. My heart hurts, and right now, I don't want it to heal.

Not a holiday

I got to the airport today, checked in, and saw paper pink ribbons hanging from the bottom of spirals attached to the lights. I get to the terminal and see pink ribbon stickers attached to walls. I feel like the disease that almost took my life has been reduced to a holiday. It's not something to be celebrated. It's a disease to be fought.

Gimmick or do you get it?

Last night Chris and I had dinner at the House of Blues. I love the atmosphere, the feel, the vibe of the whole place. It inspires my creativity and lifts my mood. We wanted to start our vacation time right, so we went.

On the way out I looked at the merchandise. I wanted a pin or something to remember our time there. The first thing I spot is a gray, hooded, zip up sweatshirt, something I've been wanting and looking for for months. It has light pink writing and a shiny silver heart on it that says, "where the heart meets the soul." If you know me, you know how much this hoodie completely fits me. I try it on and fall in love. The lining is soft and it's the perfect weight. Yes!

I'm willing to spend ALL of my souvenir money on this thing (which is good because it was almost double the cost of other hoodies I've seen.) I take it to the register and what do I see but these oblong post it notes that say, "I <3 boobies." You could buy one for a dollar, put your name on it, and think you did something to help fight against breast cancer.

Chris looks at me and says sarcastically, "don't you want one of those?" I glare at him. The cashier, Michele, says, "it is what it is." I shrug and am willing to leave it at that, but Chris asks me, "so do you want to tell her or should I?" We told her that I was in remission and counting down the days till I can officially say I'm cured. She was genuinely happy for me, got goosebumps, and then blurts out, "I'm going to give you the employee discount." Ka-Ching! 25% off. I was taken back, thanked her, and thought to myself, "she gets it."

We then walked a few blocks to another well known eatery with collectable merchandise to pick something up for my sister. Said eatery will remain nameless. (All publicity is good publicity and they won't get any from me.) nameless had a whole slew if pink stuff: T-shirts, pins, jewelry, all very pretty. I checked the tag and it said, "a portion of the proceeds will go toward the fight against breast cancer." Vague at best. So, I go up to the cashier and ask him if he knows how much of the proceeds go to research and exactly where they went.

Clueless, he was completely clueless.

That's what I expected. I visited the website on my smart phone to see if there was any information there. Nope. The stuff with the pink ribbon was just a gimmick, another way to make money. It made me ill. I bought a pin for my sister and left.

Now, I'm not saying you should all eat at the House if Blues or you should boycott nameless. (You'll note, I still bought the pin.) What I am saying us that you should be mindful of where your money goes. Are you really doing good for others or are you just making yourself feel better?

Michelle gets it. She didn't need to give me a discount. I was buying the sweatshirt despite it being over priced. But, she did. She did it to make a difference in MY life. One person helping one person in a very practical way. I have to say, it was pretty cool.

Orange Gloves

This morning I saw an interview with a wide receiver from the Indianapolis Colts. He gained attention last week due to a stellar performance and the fact that he was wearing orange gloves during the game.

In October, many players wear pink gloves to raise awareness for breast cancer, but never have i seen orange gloves. What does orange stand for anyway?

In all honesty, I'm surprised the NFL (affectionately parodied as the No Fun League) didn't fine him. I remember way back when they told Darrell Talley he couldn't wear his Spider-Man sleeves under his uniform, and fined him every time he did, so he tattooed them on.

But they didn't fine this player, they didn't even make a stink about it. Why? Because the gloves had meaning. That one pair of orange gloves overshadowed all of the pink ribbons, towels, pins, and graphics. No one was thinking about breast cancer anymore. They were thinking about a man, a friend, a person who's job went from coaching the Colts to fighting cancer.

Orange is the color for leukemia awareness. I didn't know that before today. I can't tell you what month they use to try and raise research dollars. I just don't know. What I do know, is that one pair of gloves brought more awareness to a disease than all the pink jerseys ever will. This act was one man showing support for one man. It is there, in the one on one acts of kindness, that cancer will be defeated.

Money for research is great. Removing stigmas are an incredible comfort. But for healing to occur, there must be hope. Be that hope to someone in need.

Seeing Pink

I was contacted this week by a newspaper reporter wanting to interview me because I'm a breast cancer survivor. I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, but I agreed.

Then today, as I was entering a drug store, I see two pink newspapers. They didn't just have a pink ribbon or a pink cover. The ENTIRE PAPER was pink. All I could think of was, really? How does that help anyone or anything?

I haven't made time to see if they are donating money somewhere or if it's just a gimmick to sell papers, but the "popularity" of "going pink" is really getting out of control. How many organizations went gold last month for pediatric cancer? Why aren't packages turning purple to promote domestic violence awareness?

Just like the interview, I don't know what to think. Raising awareness is a good thing, but it should be coupled with practical assistance to those in need. Otherwise, you are just selling papers.