October brings a variety of changes when She comes.
Temperatures and weather change; my hot flashes won't be competing with
the outside temperature, and I can even look forward to feeling cool!
The time changes and I "fall" back an hour. The trees outside my
window begin to change colors, and when the wind picks up, the brittle
leaves chatter amongst themselves.
October is also a time when I become a noticeable activist. My goal is to inform as many people as I can about Breast Cancer Awareness Month. October means I'll be in charge of an information area in the BMU where the "Wall of Hope," with pictures of women in the community who are breast cancer survivors, will be displayed, and many volunteers will hand out pink ribbons and information packets. When I talk to women about breast cancer, I tell them that I belong to an exclusive group that I don't ever want them to join. And I mean it from the bottom of my heart.
I had worked on campus for two semesters bc (before cancer). I went for my yearly check ups, had my mammograms, and didn't pay any attention to breast-cancer statistics. I thought by having a mammogram, I was "safe." Wrong. I found my lump spring break, 1995. My doctor ordered a second mammogram. Nothing unusual there. My fingers told me something was very unusual, and I lived in fear-based denial until the diagnosis was delivered, and then I just lived in fear.
Breast cancer isn't just about losing your breasts; it's about surviving the chemotherapy and its destructive side effects, building a support group, learning how to get through the long, dark nights, and learning how to say good-bye. There was no way to prepare for the diagnosis, or the complications that followed. I remain sane thanks to a contingency of loving family and friends on and off campus who have been by my side since the beginning. My coworkers rallied around my son and me, cradling me, providing for us. I had someone to hold my hand when I was afraid, and drivers to get my drugs or take me to the next appointment.
A month after I was diagnosed, a friend on campus learned she had breast cancer. Donnis Sanders and I cried together, talked of our fears, our hopes, the concern we had for our families. With Donnis, I learned how to say good-bye. The "Wall of Hope" is dedicated to Donnis' memory this year. Before next October brings her seasonal changes, breast cancer will kill approximately 44,000 women and 300 men. There is no cure but early detection can make a difference. Take a moment to stop by the "Wall of Hope" any Tuesday in October, between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m., and to pick up a pink ribbon and a packet of information.
Written by JoAnne Elam, Physical Education and Exercise Science