I know about strength in numbers. I know about the solidarity of a group and representing that group as a whole. Countries are recognized by the colors and symbols of their flags. I remember our school picnic parades as a kid where each class was assigned a "color" to dress in to stand out, identify, be part of the pride of being in that grade. We all know that pink is the universally recognized color for breast cancer awareness. I remember walking in the Komen Race with my family in memory of our mother and seeing the sea of pink and how moving it was. Why can't I think pink now? Why can't I embrace the color and its instantly recognized branding? Is it because I am now part of the club? A club no one ever wants to be part of? A club we can only hope will someday be disbanded?
I remember seeing women that I now look exactly like. They were women I would pass in the grocery store, at a restaurant, the park or simply walking down the street. They were women who wore the baseball caps that I now wear, the scarves sometimes under them to somehow try to hide those areas that were bald. We all know they have cancer. I use to do one of two things. The first would be to catch her eye and give a small smile of what I hoped came through as encouragement rather than pity. The second would be to not catch her eye at all so that she could feel "normal" and not be looked at, judged or pitied. Ah, but I now know the second option was never helpful as you never feel "normal" again. At least, not for a very long time if ever I suppose.
I see people look at me now that I am bald and wearing my hats. The weather is "too hot for hair" right now in St Louis so I do not wear my wig often. I see them look at me exactly the same way as I looked at all those women before me. Most of the time, I try not to make eye contact as I am not yet a totally comfortable member of the club but every once in awhile I make eye contact. And when I do, it gives me strength. I feel like a fighter that must look at fear right in the eyes. I am surprised at myself that I have gotten quite comfortable so quickly with my new head and its' wardrobe. But I learned from Jake and my sister that your new "normal" is set for you pretty quickly and you have to get right back up when you are knocked down in order to keep going.
When my mother was fighting her battle, we rarely talked about the cancer. It was the big pink elephant in the room (god, even that elephant was pink!). We went to her doctors appts, sat by her hospital bed, watched as her hair fell out but we never TALKED about the cancer. Pink wasn't even in the picture then. But now I have an ocean of support and people I can talk to daily if I want to. How afraid she must have been and didn't vocalize it to anyone that I know of. I have a list as long as my arm of people I can call and cry with, laugh with, shout with or simply be with. We have come come along way and I am sure all the dollars donated has made that difference. And if the color pink helps people make that connection, then it has already done its job.
Maybe I will get use to pink although I don't think so. I want it to remain my daughter's favorite color without bringing to mind her mother's cancer; I want it to be the color of the roses on the 50 year old rose bush in my neighbor's garden; I want it to be the memory of the bridesmaid dress I wore in my sister's wedding; I want it to be the color of my husband's dress shirt (my favorite); I want it to be the memory of the pink and white checked seersucker dresses that my mom, my sister and I wore one Easter (now a fond memory - at the time not so fond). Maybe in my lifetime, I can see pink go back to just being the "pink" I had in my life before my diagnosis. Maybe in my lifetime, the club I am now a member of will be disbanded.
Presley bought me a tshirt to wear to my chemo appts. It is a white tshirt with pink and brown writing. It says "think pink" on the front in small lettering. If someone comments on my shirt, I say you must read the back for those are the words that mean everything -
Supporting the Fighters
Admiring the Survivors
Honoring the Taken
And Never, Ever Giving up Hope
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