Breast Cancer & Relationships

The pink ribbons are pretty. It is so common to see them plastered on various surfaces that they have literally become fixtures in society. Coming from an African-American family, I was quite familiar with how cancer affects families. Two of my grandparents were taken away by the disease. As a result, I have developed an odd relationship with it: On one hand, I'm deathly afraid (pun intended) of the havoc that it wreaks on families. On the other hand, there is still a part of me that feels somewhat detached from the illness. In fact, the pretty pink ribbons didn't mean too very much to me...that is, until I realized how widespread breast cancer actually is. In order to keep the actual identities of the breast cancer patients in my family private, I shall name them Helen and Sam, respectively.

Beating the Odds

I was barely into my twenties when I was told by relatives that doctors had discovered a cancerous lump in our beloved Helen's breast during a yearly mammogram. I learned that typically, especially in a Stage One diagnosis, a lumpectomy is preferable. However, in Helen's case (because of her age), this would not be an option. I was told that it would be best to remove the entire breast. So that is just what they did, followed by a systematic approach with chemotherapy. I spoke with Helen briefly after her procedure. She was groggy and exhausted, but in relatively good spirits. At this time in my life, I'd only heard about other people who had breast cancer. Most of them had died, or had gone on to live rather limited lives. But Helen was different. Months later, she had resumed a routine, and was going on with her life.

The face of breast cancer became much more familiar to me...

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