Fight like a girl... October is breast cancer awareness month

It sort of just dawned on my that we're on the cusp of a new month. Don't know where my head has been. In case you didn't know... October is breast cancer awareness month.

Well, of course this hits home pretty hard for me. And I really am starting to gag on pink ribbons and such. But... this isn't about me... rather, it is about MORE than just me.

Where ever you are located... if there is something going on in your community for breast cancer awareness... please try to attend, or make a small donation. If you can afford it.

I've decided to have a breast cancer awareness party on the 25th. I haven't selected a location yet, but the plan is to have some breast cancer survivors and some medical personnel come out and talk about breast cancer, its effects on black women and other general information. On the 18th of October, I will have had my 4th chemotherapy treatment -- and will be HALFWAY through the entire course.

Since I need a pick me up and it is breast cancer awareness month, I'm going to have a "Fight" party -- its time to really get into the fight for breast cancer. I'm hoping that the event will be part celebratory and a little bit of educational fun -- as well as a fundraiser for several breast cancer charities.

I thought I knew about breast cancer before I was diagnosed. I did my self-exams (not as regularly as I should have maybe...) and I was just waiting to hit my 40th birthday to start my annual mammograms. But since my diagnosis I've learned so much more about the disease and some of it is scary stuff.

Breast cancer in younger women (under 40) is on the rise, but they don't know why. Breast cancer, when found in black women, is normally found at a much later stage than in white women (like mine being found at stage 3). The issues surrounding black women and breast cancer are combinations of genetic disposition and access to health care. So, we've got to fight the battle twice as hard. When we are found to have breast cancer, our disease tends to be more aggressive and even more likely to kill us, than the same disease in white women. We're not as likely to get breast cancer as white women... but when we do, it is often more deadly, more likely to recur and more difficult to treat than our white sisters.

(even in illness, we gotta work twice as hard for half the reward... )

Check out this link: http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2008/03/080317164342.htm

Very interesting study results found in Chicago regarding black women with breast cancer. A Nigerian sister found that women in her country were dealing with a really aggressive breast cancer problem. Then she came to the US and found that black women here were having similar issues with very aggressive and treatment resistant breast cancer. I am fortunate that I do not have the triple threat breast cancer that most of these studies is focused on. However, many sisters are dying from breast cancer and it is a tragedy.

So... keep these thoughts with you:

-Women have a 1 in 8 chance of being diagnosed with breast cancer in their lifetime.
-African American women are less likely to get breast cancer but are more likely to die from the disease, according to the American Cancer Society (2008)
-From 2000-2003 African American women had a 36 percent higher death rate than white women, giving them the highest death rate and poorest survival rate of any other racial or ethnic group for breast cancer.

All in all... its frightening out there. And while this certainly isn't the only thing in the world we need to be vigilant about, it is one more thing.

If you don't check your breasts... start now. If you feel anything suspect, tell your doctor. If your doctor isn't responsive, find a different doctor. If you're really freaked out, press for the mammogram anyway. (now, let me be clear here... if you press for the mammogram you might have to pay for it out of pocket -- and its not cheap, but death ain't either and chemo isn't any fun at all) In other words... don't let breast cancer take you out. Fight back.

Fight back.

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How I'm feeling today: Better. Anxious. Scared. Nervous. Tired but not as tired as last week. Ready to get on with life, wishing I could skip chemo on Thursday. Generally... I'm okay. Food has taste and I am eating all that I can when I can. And we know that eating is a good thing.

I keep thinking back to earlier this summer when I started this journey. And no matter how much I review it in my mind, it still really doesn't make sense to me. But I guess... its not supposed to. At least not right now.

My hair is still falling out in patches. I look like a chicken took a razor to my head... but I'm scared to shave it for some reason. It seems so final. Yesterday I was contemplating methods of hair removal... should I use some clippers, or just a regular razor, or maybe some Nair/Veet. I opted against the chemicals because I was afraid some might drip down and take away my eyebrows (which are holding on nicely... ). And the razor scared me because I don't want to nick my scalp or something. Of course, you know that I can't use clippers to save my life... and I can't go back to the barbershop again.

So, that's where I am. I don't know what I'm doing. My visual isn't fit for public consumption... and I'm freaked out again because its chemo week. *sigh*

But its a good day, right? Another blessed day on the planet.

I'm holding on to that.