Today was the finish of my ‘basic 25’ radiology treatments. I celebrated with a lavish and luxurious, top of the line, pink and sateen… nap. The pink and sateen part was my comfortable little breast care pillow that eased me into slumberland. I confess that the first time I saw it, I had to stifle a slight urge to ‘wretch’ from the overwhelming ‘pink-ness’of it. It came at the end of a long line of pink things that kept finding their way to me, immediately after the biopsy, before I’d even gotten the diagnosis of breast cancer. And then there was more. I completely understand the identification with pink and the value of it to marketing strategists trying to raise awareness and money for research. But spare a thought for the person who is newly diagnosed and doesn’t particularly want to walk around advertising that she is the newest member of the ‘club’.
The day I checked into the hospital for surgery, there was this very pink ‘breast care pillow’ that I really didn’t quite know what to do with. The Breast Care Nurse picked it up and showed it to me (as if I could miss it!) explaining it was ‘made with love by the Zonta Club ladies’ and it would be useful to cushion the weight of my arm from my beast after surgery, and again toward the end of radiation treatment as my breast got sore. By the very next day, I had to concede she had been right, it did help to cushion my breast from the car seat belt, and again at night so that my arm did not rest so heavily against my breast. It was just so pink.
Thankfully the ‘pink thing’ abated as I progressed through the steps after treatment, and I think I’ll even be able to wear my pink cardigan again, eventually. Today, at the end of my first 25 treatments, and with my special ‘bonus’ of 5 ‘boost treatments’ to go, I have made peace with my pink pillow. It has become my friend, and those ladies who have made it for me, ‘with love’, I, humbly, thank for giving me this bit of comfort.
Now that is pink. I like pink. But that is blaring pink. Hang in there.
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