to top

Breast Cancer Awareness Month: Needles & Nurses & Cells, Oh My

breast cancer awareness

 

 

 

I recall my first mammogram. Not fondly. The amount of pain shocked me. So did the doctor.

 

This was pre-Women’s Imaging Center, when I was living in Chicago. Pre-sister’s cancer diagnosis, too. My doctor was a solo practitioner radiologist so everybody stepped into her office to get their results.

 

 

After a poker-faced review of my images right in front of me, the doctor slapped both hands on her desk and demanded, “So, what do you want to know?

 

 

“You want to know if you have cancer.
   Well, you don’t.”

 

Hold on, Nellie. I DID NOT WANT TO KNOW IF I HAD CANCER. “Do I have cancer?” was not on my list of questions at all. I didn’t have a list of questions. The sole purpose for my masochistic visit was that I recently turned 40.

Breast Cancer Awareness Months and Months and Months

Monthly Self Exam

 

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

 

 

To paraphrase the Bard, “Some are born aware, some achieve awareness, and some have awareness thrust upon them.”

 

 

Count me in that last group.

 

 

Agreed, you’d have to be headless or TV-less to duck the October deluge of heart-string-tugging ads from corporations rolling out their pink carpets, t-shirts and limited edition packaging. Breast cancer #humblebrags are thrust on all of us 24/7/3

 

 

Not that there is anything wrong with that:

 

 

Big business = big bucks = support for research, education and screenings.

 

 

Awareness and money are raised by the fully array of entities: Ford Motors, an early partner with breast cancer organizations; Comcast-NBCU, whose Chairman is married to a survivor; and even the NFL where for four weeks, attention to women’s breasts is not offensive.

 

 

When it’s over-the-top cloying or annoying, we can hit mute or change the channel until orange and black and red and green replace pink in our collective color coding. By the time we turn back the clocks, we tune out breast cancer.

 

 

Unless…

 

Awareness hits you like a Ford Focus. Like me. Now I can’t keep my eye on the ball. My favorite fall TV shows have been bumped by non-stop, live coverage of….

 

 

My left boob.

The Pope, a Ghost and a Single Gal Have Something in Common. Believe it or not.

Pope in Philly

Is Francis as shocked as you, or is he just throwing a kiss?

 

The Pope, a ghost and a single gal have something in common. Believe it or not.

Good Friendship vs. Bad Romance: Guess Who Wins?

Good Friend Bad Romance

  Good Friendship vs. Bad Romance: Guess Who Wins?     Why are women outraged, devastated and horrified when a friend does us wrong, but manage to limit our emotions to hurt and confused when the love of our life turns out to be a cheating-ass liar?     You won’t forgive her in a million years but him? You forget his sins in weeks, or days or sometimes mere minutes.     You know the story—the one where the friends and lovers hook up. Imagine it’s your story: they are YOUR friends and YOUR lovers.  Want to bet you give your bestie the boot and give him a chance to explain?     Perhaps you have a less messy tale of treachery, like a friend who was vocal and loud about your lousy...

Continue reading

Declare Independence From Dumb Relationships

 

Some people celebrate July 4 with barbecues and fireworks.

 

 

I prefer historical re-enactment: honoring the fore-mothers of America by declaring independence from tyrants.

 

 

I observe the birth of our nation and most national holidays by getting out of dumb  relationships with dumber boyfriends.

 

 

How’s that for patriotism?

Are You the Best Supporting Actress to Everyone in Your Life?

and the emmy goes to

 

And the Award for Best Supporting Actress goes to….. YOU!

 

 

You, because as a single woman, you are the best of the best at being supportive to the cast of characters you have in your life.

 

 

Whether it’s the drama queen or crazy be-atch you hang out with, the weird uncle you get stuck with, the fun aunt you travel with…. the nosy neighbor, long-suffering parent, work husband, childhood pal, incompetent boss or irritating coworker…

 

 

You listen. You ask questions. You give solicited advice or simple encouragement. You applaud, you bail out, you bite your tongue.

 

 

You help.  You show up.

 

 

You don’t expect an award, though a gold statue might look good on your mantel.

%d bloggers like this: