Save the What?

Shirley Temple Black. Linda Ellerbee. Gloria Steinem. Richard Roundtree. Kate Jackson. Melissa Etheridge.

Fred Gwynne. Donna Reed. Steve Jobs. Patrick Swayze. Jack Benny. Michael Landon. Luciano Pavarotti. 

What is the link between these celebrities who were all found in a very elementary Google search? The first six listed are survivors of breast cancer while the next group of seven are victims of pancreatic cancer. Interestingly, I couldn't find a list of celebrity breast cancer victims in a search; nor could I find a list of pancreatic cancer survivors. 

October is a month when many people try to raise awareness of breast cancer. And quite frankly, I usually can't wait until October is over. 

I know that's probably considered heresy. After all, shouldn't we all be in support of Breast Cancer Awareness? Shouldn't we all get our our 'mammies grammied'? Doesn't everyone want to Save the TaTas?Don't we all <3 our boobies? Haven't we all posted a cryptically stupid Facebook status to 'raise awareness'? And don't forget to warn people to check their 'bumps for lumps'! 

The answer to the first question is absolutely YES. Breast cancer is real; it demoralizes, disfigures, and even kills women (even though Google seemingly doesn't want to tell you about that). But in answer to the remaining questions, I would answer: don't devalue your awareness of an ugly disease by referring to them as boobies, ta-tas, lumps, hooters, tits, jugs, or any of the other132 slang names found on listaholic.com. 

On the radio this morning, the talking heads were discussing a high school cheerleading squad who wanted to "raise awareness" for breast cancer and purchased "Save the TaTas" shirts to wear at their games and/or competitions. The principal said no; these t-shirts are not appropriate for school. I have to agree. By using such a slogan, the girls are buying into the male-dominated stereotype that breasts exist solely for visual or sexual pleasure and not for feeding babies. Cheerleaders elicit enough prurient interest already. Don't give them more to work with. These slogans also feed into the big business model that tries to sell us pink ribbons, pink dog shirts, pink hair products, pink stuffed animals, pink buckets of chicken, pink mixers and more. Where is all that money going, anyway? How much is actually going to help women (or men) who have breast cancer? 

Face it, people. Breasts (and the women who wear them) are not a commodity. Breasts are a functional part of our bodies. Just like an arm or a leg, or a lung or a pancreas. I'm all for awareness of breasts, and of breast cancer ... as long as it's for the right reasons. But I'm tired of breast cancer being over-hyped when people are getting diagnosed--and too often dying--every day of plenty of other types of cancer. 

I realize that I am very fortunate to not be speaking from firsthand experience in any of this. Maybe I'd feel differently about all this pink-ness if breast cancer had affected me directly. Or maybe not. I hope I don't ever have to find out. 

If you or a loved one have had breast cancer, or if you've lost someone to breast cancer, please know that I do not wish to insult you; I am sorry for your heartache. I don't mean to diminish that in any way. But I'm concerned that all the hype and all the pink-ness is somehow taking advantage of the very bitter struggle against cancer and creating yet another profit-making opportunity. And perhaps not one that actually benefits the cancer patients.

If getting involved helps you cope with the fight against cancer, I'm all for it. Many people find some comfort in the Breast Cancer 3-Day, or the Susan G. Komen events, or Relay For Life. Maybe you have a pink ribbon magnet on your vehicle, or a ribbon pin on your lapel, and I respect that as well. 

I participated in Relay for Life last summer. There were plenty of pink ribbons there, but there were also purple, and black, and gold, and green and ...you get the picture. I walked that day in honor of a dear friend, who has since lost her battle with pancreatic cancer; in memory of my dad, who died of lung cancer almost 40 years ago; and in honor of my husband, a lung cancer survivor. I also held in thought my friend and cousin, a 15-year breast cancer survivor. My friend who still struggles with periodic concerns over her T-cell counts 10 years after a bout with breast cancer. A friend's son, who was diagnosed with Lymphoma earlier this year. 

But you know what? More important than walking, or running, wearing a ribbon, or attending a cocktail reception is being there for the people you love. Feel like you need to do something? Call a friend who is battling cancer. Go and sit with them if you're able to. Bake a cake. Send them a magazine you think they'd like. Take them to treatments if you can. Make a prayer shawl, if that might bring them comfort. Sometimes, doing something tangible is way more important than raising money for a "cause."

The bottom line is this: every kind of cancer is despicable. It doesn't matter if you're famous like Farrah, Gloria, Steve or Luciano. Cancer also affects everyday people named Alma or Tom or David or Rita or Harry or Oliver. 

No one deserves that kind of pain. And it sucks, literally and figuratively.

Focusing on what's important ... and it's not the drama.

You know how sometimes you can read a quote that you’ve seen several times before, but at that particular moment it really speaks to you? That happened to me last week when someone posted the following tidbit on Facebook:

“There comes a time in life when you have to let go of all the pointless drama and the people who create it; and surround yourself with the people who make you laugh so hard that you forget the bad and focus solely on the good. After all, life is too short to be anything but happy.”

Wow. That really hit home I have had mega-drama swirling around in my head for several months now. Some drama in life is inevitable, of course. But far too much of what goes on in the name of business, organizations, politics, or even family life is definitely of the “pointless” variety. And I have decided I need to separate myself from that as much as possible, because … yes, life is too short to be anything but happy.

If that seems a bit Pollyanna-ish, perhaps it is. But I have to say that in the midst of drama and yes, even sadness over the past few months, I have still experienced a great deal of joy. And I prefer to keep it that way rather than let the sadness drag me down.

Drama can be addictive, though. You get caught up in it and you start thinking about it all the time and you start talking about it to anyone and everyone. It becomes a part of you. And it’s also contagious. Like a nasty virus, you start spreading it everywhere you go.

Five years ago, I had a co-worker named Jessica. We weren’t close so I didn’t hear her complain, but she obviously had her share of burdens. She was quiet and never shared much about herself with me. I knew she was a single mom; she had a couple of teenage kids; she probably struggled with money like a lot of us do. Like me, she was unhappy with her job, but she was grateful to have it so she kept on working, despite the drama and the contention and the fact that she obviously would’ve rather been just about anywhere else.

One day, Jessica didn’t show up for work. The office was buzzing, as an office does when there’s some drama afoot, with theories of what crisis had happened to her that day. We later learned that her young son had found her unresponsive in bed; she never regained consciousness. She was probably 10 years younger than me, and all I could think about was how sad she was and I didn’t want to be that way. I realized how short and precious our time is here. And we never know how suddenly it can be all over.

Rather than end up in a similar situation, I left the job that was stressing me out and creating all sorts of negative drama in my life. It wasn’t an easy decision, even though I knew it was the right one, because it was downright scary to be leaving the security of a decent-paying job with benefits. It was also something that had almost become my identity. (I’ll never forget the time my husband introduced himself saying, “I’m married to the Enterprise.”) But the daily drama was too intense. I realized I had caught myself up in it and was making too many personal sacrifices just to stay on that enticing stage.

Throughout my life, I’ve tended to be a chronic volunteer. My husband claims I don’t have the word “no” in my vocabulary.  I get passionately dedicated to a cause and I just can’t stop saying “yes,” even when that cause starts to incite more drama than I need at any given moment. And so it is at this point in my life, that I realize I need to separate myself from some of the commotion in my life and focus myself back on my faith, family, and friends.

It seems that there are people who seem to feel better if they can create drama and discontent around them. In fostering that drama, they can eventually destroy an ideology and even, sometimes, the organization that was built around that philosophy.

It’s that pointless-drama thing, and yet it’s hard for the people who feel a commitment to certain principles or causes to simply let go. Sometimes you want to stick around to take a stand or make it right or fight the injustice, but you can’t spend your life butting heads. That's one thing I've definitely learned over the years.

A dear friend who taught me much about faith passed away this summer. I still miss her every day. And I especially miss being able to run across the street to ask her to share her priceless wisdom when I’m facing some kind of an issue. However, I know very well what she would say about the drama I’m in right now—get away. Fast.

I talked in my last column about making some resolutions at this time of year. So I’m drawing my line in the sand. It’s time to remember that two-letter word. Rather than get sucked into further drama, I will walk away. I’ll surround myself instead with those people who make me smile—and laugh.

And next time I see this happening, I hope it takes me even less time to listen to that inner guidance and say “no.”