Warning: Reading further may cause you to be uncomfortable. It’s kind of the point.
I have read a lot over the past month.
I have read posts and tweets from mothers who want more time with their precious children.
I have read from mothers who have said good-bye to children who endured cancer for the majority of their all too short lives.
Husbands have carried on important work in memory of what their wives started.
Brave men and women have laid it all out there, revealing their souls and bodies in photographs and words.
Anger, pain, rage, doubt, despair, fear, suffering, grief, compassion, sympathy, empathy, humor, support, hope, inspiration, courage, strength, and love have all been represented. Feelings have been brutally raw and honest.
I have sobbed uncontrollably. I have grieved for their losses and relived so many of my own.
If only survivors or survivor supporters read these impassioned stories, not much will change in advancing research that will save lives.
More people must be reached.
More people need to be outraged.
More people need to feel uncomfortable.
Ignorance is not bliss in this case. Ignorance is more senseless death. Feeling discomfort means you care and that you may push for something better.
I believe we all have a responsibility to speak out and keep speaking out. Shout from the rooftops.
I ask you to consider how you can best influence change and then do it. Small shifts in the right direction are still shifts for positive change.
More effective treatments are needed. They were needed years ago. Who gets them should not be decided by insurance companies, pharmaceutical companies, politicians, or based upon who can afford them. Having access to drugs and surgeries is very personal – not some business for profit. We need something better for our mothers, fathers, children, friends, and all those we love. We need more for ourselves.
I refer you to Sweat Pants & Coffee for a post on 5 Charities that are making a real impact for breast cancer patients to add to you list for possible donations. My new favorite is still the More For Stage IV Fund.
The first breast cancer awareness event in the U.S. was just one week back in October of 1985. Thirty-three years ago. The number of deaths from metastatic breast cancers has not gone down since 1995 and has remained pretty much the same at 41,000 a year (113 a day). How can that be?
Hold the presses . . . I know why. It’s because 30% of breast cancers become metastatic (in addition to the 6-10% that already are at diagnosis) and only 4-7% of research funding is allocated toward secondary cancer research (also known as MBC). Eleven months from now it will start all over again. The awareness. The pink crap. I am over it. I want a celebration for the month when a cure is discovered. Every month is an awareness month for something. The thing is, if you have cancer, a different disease, or a chronic condition, every day is a day of awareness.
One of the key ideas I taught my second graders every year was that reading was thinking. I revisited this idea countless times during the year because I wanted it to stick like super glue. Reading gives us the opportunity to think, to act, and to change the world. This month my reading choices were not chosen for enjoyment. I read to gather information and then pulled it all together. One conclusion that emerged from synthesizing all this information was that the voices of those affected by metastatic cancer of any kind have grown louder and louder. What we have to say may be hard to say and possibly difficult to hear and to read, but we won’t be quiet.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for reading.
I’ll be more positive in November.