Pink – More Than Just A Color
“I have the results from your biopsy, and unfortunately you have cancer.”
These are the words spoken to me by my surgeon just a couple of weeks after finding a lump in my left breast while taking a bath. My husband had gone with me for the results. He wanted to be there if I were to get bad news. And yes, it was bad news.
The words you think will never be spoken to you, only others, were spoken to me that day. I know it was God’s grace that got me through that moment and the hour that followed. As I watched the doctor draw pictures of my surgical and treatment options on a piece of scrap paper he took out of a drawer, I was very focused and clear minded.
I was able to talk to the surgeon and make the decisions I needed to make, and my husband cried. I decided to go ahead and schedule surgery because I wanted this disease out of my body as soon as possible. Surgery was scheduled for the following week.
On that bitterly cold and snowy January day, we bundled up, went outside, and got in the car to go home. My husband was driving and I was sitting in the passenger seat, staring out of the window. There was complete silence in the car other than the crunching of the snow under the tires and an occasional sniffle coming from my husband, who had taken the news rather hard.
I wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular, when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, I thought of heaven. Not knowing yet how bad the cancer was, an excitement rose up within me at the very thought that I may be going there soon. I didn’t want to leave my family of course, but I was somehow reassured of something that I already knew. Heaven is real and I am going there someday. It was almost more than I could contain at the time. In a way that I can’t really explain, I felt so happy.
After that day, my life forever changed, and before I knew it, I had been thrust onto the proverbial pink bandwagon, and off I went. At first, I was in all the way! Give me that pink—I’m gonna wear it proudly! But as the days and weeks of surgery and treatments went on, I became tired…very tired. Tired of everything.
“You’re a fighter.” “You’ve got this.” “Fight like a girl.” “You can beat this.” “You can do it.” “You’re strong!” All of these words were constantly being spoken to me by well-meaning friends, when in reality, I felt nothing like those things. I felt like curling up into a ball and just staying there, not wanting to deal with any of it. I just wanted it to go away! I just wanted my life back as I knew it before cancer had come into it.
My whole world became pink. Pink ribbons, pink jewelry, pink scarves, pink clothes, pink slippers, pink socks – everywhere I looked, the color pink seemed to be there. It wasn’t just a color anymore though, it was screaming out at me, YOU HAVE BREAST CANCER! A color I used to love had become ugly to me. It represented the very thing that could possibly take my life. The very thing that was causing pain and fear…causing my family heartache. I hated it!
The whole experience left me with so many different feelings and emotions about so many things! Who knew something as simple as the color pink could become such a big issue? It’s something that unless you’ve been there, you can’t possibly understand.
Going through this experience, I found myself wearing a plethora of masks, not wanting anyone to see me as I really was most of the time. My happy mask with the big smile became the one I wore most. Regardless of how I was feeling, I wore a smile, when on the inside I was sick, insecure, and afraid. It turned out that after smiling so much, I gained strength through that. Somehow the ‘happy mask with the big smile’ was no longer a mask…it was me!
Having lost myself in the year of surgery, hospitals and treatments, it was good to see a small portion of me again. That was four years ago, and although I am not completely me yet, I am well on my way. Honestly, I have missed me.
When cancer came into my life, it consumed me at different levels and at different times. Some days I forgot I even had it, and other days it was as if it crept down into the very core of my being and just laid there. I grew as a person. I learned a lot. Being a Christian, I experienced God on a deeper level. He proved His unfailing love and the truths of His Word time and time again.
Today, I look at people differently. I have the ability to see beauty where before I would have been quick to see the ugly. I am able to relate to those who are suffering in any way, not just with cancer. I learned that people are a lot more caring than I had originally thought, and I learned that my heart is a lot bigger than I ever knew it was.
The day of my last radiation treatment, I came out of that place with a sense of accomplishment. The marching band I had imagined would be there for me wasn’t, but I heard it anyway, and it was a glorious sound as I marched out of that treatment center. I held my head high, breathed in the fresh spring air, and felt as if it were my very first breath of life. I guess, in a sense, it was.
With it being spring, when things become alive again, I felt as if this body of mine became alive again that day. That day I was deemed cancer free. I have since grown to love the color pink again and I am proudly donning my breast cancer attire. As I am writing this, I can’t help but notice the pink Bible on my desk. My source of strength and everything else I needed during that time…and still do.
The pink ribbon. It might be a large one flying in the form of a flag, one on the bumper or back window of a vehicle, or a tiny pin on someone’s clothing. However it’s displayed, everyone knows what it stands for; but until you view it through the eyes of a breast cancer patient, you will never know just how important it is…
To me, it’s a sign of strength…a sign of courage. A sign of a battle I fought and won. It’s a reminder of how precious life is, and just how valuable each day is. It reminds me of how much I love my family. It’s a reminder of God’s faithfulness and His ever present help. It’s a reminder to pray for those who are in the “battle” now and the families of those who did not survive.
So yes, the pink ribbon. A symbol that I loved and then hated. To the eyes of this breast cancer survivor, it once again has become beautiful.
Barbara
OH
Submitted 07/03/2024
This story is intended to convey a personal experience and should not be relied upon as a substitute for professional medical advice.
