Color Me Bitter

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month and quite frankly, I am getting sick of the color pink! Everywhere I go. The grocery store, school, the office supply store, my junk mail all remind me about Breast Cancer.
I have to admit all the pep-rallies, fund-raisers and awareness campaigns pour salt into my wounded heart. I guess I am jealous of how much attention this form of cancer receives.

Why I am Bitter

Cancer affects virtually all families. Mine is no exception. My grandmother was diagnosed with Breast Cancer 30 years ago, after finding a small lump in one of her breasts. She had a mastectomy and lived well into her 80's outliving her husband and her daughter (my mom). Grandpa died of heart disease and Mom had ovarian cancer. My grandmother died with Alzheimer's , a few years after my mother passed away. Mom was only 58 years old. It was emotionally draining to visit Grandma after Mom died. It was difficult enough to explain who I was, I also had to explain why her daughter wasn't visiting anymore.

My parents were both diagnosed with cancer within months of each other. Dad found out that he had Multiple-Myloma and probably had at best 5-10 years left to live.

Mom threw herself into gardening to relieve the stress of his bad news. She then started to have neck pains. She tried everything to relieve the pain. Physical Therapy, Massage, visits to a chiropractor, wearing a neck brace and sleeping on the floor. Nothing worked. She finally had X-Rays which revealed metastatic cancer in her bones. After much testing the source was believed to be ovarian. Mom was put into treatment right away and barely made it out of the hospital in time for Thanksgiving.

I have bittersweet memories of Thanksgiving of 1992. Wearing a bad wig and too weak to host dinner, Mom requested to go to a restaurant. I remember being glad that our family was together and that Mom was able to get out just in the nick of time. I was disheartened at how weak and frail she was. Later that weekend we took what would be the last group photo of our family, together in my parent's living room. I have this framed picture on my bedroom dresser.

After a fighting a brave battle, Mom lasted a mere 6 months and died in May of '93. Dad died in May of '98.

May also is the month Race For the Cure is held in my city. I remember one year trying to put on a happy face while decorating a store in pink to help promote Race for the Cure for Breast Cancer. As I was hanging some pink trim in a window, I stopped to talk with a Race volunteer decked out in pink.

Turns out that this woman was battling Ovarian cancer and temporarily keeping it at bay. I wanted to ask this brave soul if she was helping with Race for the Cure because there are no races for Ovarian Cancer.I couldn't help but think of my parents and wonder. Is all the attention and money given to Breast Cancer taking away from other forms of cancer???

How nice to have a race for a CURE, while Ovarian cancer doesn't even have a TEST!
Shortly after my mother's death, I mentioned to my former OB-Gyn doctor that I wanted to be pro-active and get screened for Ovarian cancer on a yearly basis. From research, I knew that blood tests were unreliable and thought that ultra-sounds might be good.
He told me that by the time something would show up on an ultra-sound, it would be too late. In other words, a diagnosis of Ovarian cancer is pretty much a death sentence! I ended up switching doctors and now get yearly pelvic ultra-sounds as well as mammograms.
This past year, my family practice doctor suggested that I might want to have prophylactic surgery to reduce the risk of Ovarian and Breast Cancer. I told him that I would rather not take out body parts on the off-chance they might become cancerous.

While a cure for Ovarian would be nice, right now I'd settle for a reliable screening or test!