I talk about breast cancer too much

Earlier today, I was having a private conversation with a friend. Venting about my inability to really encourage people to join my Race for the Cure team, or to donate. I didn't mention to her how difficult it had been for me to ask people to walk or run with me. But it really was. And I didn't mention to her how often my tummy balled into knots at the notion of asking people, in the midst of a recession, to donate to a cause that I honestly prayed would never touch their lives anymore than it already had. And she made a comment that made me pause... she said... "some people think that you talk about cancer too much".

She was reminding me of a previous conversation where I shared with her some negative comments that a few people had made about my blog and the things that I wrote about. And her remark reminded me that in August of 2008 -- just a few days after I was diagnosed with breast cancer -- I made a solemn promise to myself not to become "that" girl. I swore to myself then that I would get past this issue of breast cancer and it would become a blip on the screen of my life. I would not allow it to become so large and monstrous that it colored every moment and shadowed every fear. And now... almost three years later... I absolutely embrace being THAT chick.

Yep. I'm that girl. I talk about breast cancer each and every day. I proudly wear my "Survivor" necklace every day. I talk about "My Fabulous Boobies" each and every chance that I get. You know why? Because every day... every three minutes... a woman somewhere is diagnosed with breast cancer. I was that girl. My friend T, was that girl. My friend M, was that girl. And on and on... every day. Every few moments. It doesn't stop.

Until we have a cure... just remember that the time it takes you to order a cup of coffee at Starbucks... another woman (or two) just found out that she has a monster living in her body that she didn't ask for and now has to fight with everything she has to not only save her life but to maintain her life.

So, I'm a little sad that I didn't accomplish more to help save lives from dealing with this disease. And I'm disappointed that I was still so worried about myself (worried about bothering people and worried about being a pest and worried that people would talk about me and my "cancer" stuff)... that I didn't reach my goal of $5000 for the Race for the Cure. That money would have helped 50 women to have a mammogram. That money could be the difference (for someone) between being diagnosed at stage 3 like I was... and maybe stage 2 or even stage 1. And, I didn't accomplish that goal.

I have a tough skin but sometimes... sometimes it gets a little thin and my really sensitive side comes out. Especially when it comes to those things that are close to my heart. Breast cancer is one of those things that touches me deeply. But its not just about my experience... its about the pain and the fear and the anguish that I see on the faces of the people I meet every day when they talk about this beautiful woman (sister, mother, grandmother, co-worker, girlfriend...) that they know who is struggling with this disease. They don't know what to say, what to do or how to feel. And even after spending two years fighting this illness... sometimes, I don't know what to say to comfort them either.

I just want a cure. And until a cure is found... I want to help. Because, as cute as I was baldheaded...none of us like having a treatment that takes our hair away or makes us sick. So, to everyone who reads my blog posts and thinks that "damn, she's always talking about breast cancer"... I'm sorry to offend you. But I won't stop.