Showing posts with label cancer language. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cancer language. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

I DON'T Love Boobies

In breaking breast cancerish news,  Judge Rules 'I Heart Boobies' Bracelets Are OK For Students To Wear, as reported by the Huffington Post.

"Boobies" has been a hot topic in the breast cancer blogosphere of late, and if you need to catch up with the discussion from my vantage point take a look at "Boobies". I said it. Now, May I Have Your Attention Please?" by Gayle Sulik.

Upon reading the Huffington Post article this morning, I felt my blood pressure rising, and the deep need to go and add my two-cents worth to the discussion.  I also posted on my Facebook page and asked my posse' to join me in my disruptive action.  Uneasy Pink and others heeded the call, and so we went to work trying to drill some sense into the debate.  The comment thread is worth a read if you have the time.

Of course we got the usual responses to our comments:

"Lighten up"

"Why are you so bitter over this?"

"I Love Boobies" 

"Very serious situations are often made light via jokes.  It's not an attempt to belittle the situation, but rather a way to ease the pressure"

"Using the word boobies, which obviously jostles the sticks in some people's mud"


As I tried to explain in varying language forms:

I guess the word "boobies" when used in the context of BREAST CANCER does "jostle the stick in my mud".....especially since both my "boobies" were surgically removed along with my "Babymaker " all by time I was 37...... all because my "boobies" are now killing me at the ripe old age of 40. 

But I soon realized that my rational arguments were not being heard by the boobie-obsessed majority so today I have decided to take an attitude of "if you can't beat 'em join 'em".  I have an idea that I hope you will all share with your communities.

Since we're all so comfortable with the term "boobies" as a way of  "raising Awareness", "easing the pressure" and "using humor"  in talking about a deadly illness I propose the following adjustments to  The Cancer Dictionary:


  • Breast Cancer = BOOBIE Cancer
  • Ovarian Cancer = HIGHBALLS Cancer
  • Uterine Cancer = BABYMAKER Cancer
  • Testicular Cancer = BALL Cancer
  • Scrotal Cancer = NUTSACK Cancer
  • Penile Cancer = DICK Cancer
  • Anal Cancer = BUNGHOLE Cancer
  • Rectal Cancer = POOPCHUTE Cancer
  • Colon Cancer= POOPMAKER Cancer
  • Bladder Cancer= PISSER Cancer
  • Vaginal Cancers = I can't decide whether I like PUSSY Cancer or just plain CUNT Cancer


Is anyone offended now?

Because I'm seeing HUGE fundraising $$$$ if we can all get on board with my proposals.

And I know the kids are going to go ape for the "I Love PoopChutes" bracelets.

As for the schools?  Well not so much, but praise the Lord for our First Amendment rights to free speech.  And so long as the kids are happy, right?  And the retailers.



Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Selling Hope

There's been a lot of talk recently in the breast cancer blogosphere about language and how it's used in the breast cancer culture.  Uneasy Pink's post on "Word Matters", Being Sarah with her post, "What's the Word?", and The Accidental Amazon's post, "A Lump By Any Other Name" provided excellent commentary on the issue, and generated much discussion amongst readers.

Well, I'd like to throw one more word out there as the subject of today's post.

Yes it's a tattoo
Hope: 

  1. to desire with expectation of obtainment
  2. to expect with confidence
In the cancer culture, "hope" is a word that carries a lot of power and emotion when uttered in the context of cancer patients and their desire to be healed from their disease by the miracle cure that everyone wants to believe will be forthcoming within their lifetime. 

And in the breast cancer culture particularly, "hope" is a concept that holds plenty of marketing cache' for the savvy corporations looking to make a buck off society's hope for a world free of breast cancer.

You can purchase a "Facets of Hope Breast Cancer Awareness Bracelet" for the bargain price of $99 where;
"Companionship, courage and love today; hope for a cure tomorrow. That's the heartfelt message that this Facets of Hope crystal bracelet expresses to everyone, whenever you wear it to show your compassion and support for those who face the challenges of breast cancer."
Except just be sure to read the attached warning label which, although legally only required by the State of California, should probably be read by anyone  considering buying this bracelet.
"California Proposition 65 WARNING for lead crystal: To enhance optical clarity, the crystal in this product contains lead, a chemical substance known to the State of California to cause cancer and birth defects or other reproductive harm."   
 My hope is that nobody buys this ridiculous piece of pink-ribbon schlock, since it's production might actually contribute to increasing cancer incidence, and purchasing it doesn't really feed my hopes that we'll have a "cure tomorrow".

In the U.S., Susan G. Komen for the Cure®, the nation's largest breast cancer fundraiser, has a commercially vested interest in this concept of "hope", as do their corporate partners, evidenced by the following examples of campaigns undertaken in recent years.  We've seen Komen trademark the phrase "For The Cure" and enforce it's legal rights over anyone else deigning to use such phrasing in their fundraising efforts.  I wonder if we're going to see a similar scenario unfold for the word "hope" when used in the context of breast cancer?

DOVE® Chocolate: Promises of Hope: 
Susan G. Komen for the Cure is proud to be the beneficiary of DOVE® Chocolate Promises of Hope™.  DOVE® Chocolate Promises of Hope™ feature messages of hope and inspirations written by breast cancer survivors. These messages capture the strength, compassion and voice of women who have overcome the battle of their lives.
 MMG Corporation
Susan G. Komen for the Cure® is proud to partner with MMG Corporation for their “Knots for Hope” campaign to support the vision of a world without breast cancer. The Knots for Hope collection of 100 percent silk ties featuring the Susan G. Komen for the Cure signature running ribbon logo will be available at www.Macys.com,  Belk Stores, Boscov's, Lord & Taylor, Macy's, Nexcom, Peebles, Stein Mart, Veteran's Canteen, and select TJ Maxx and Marshall’s stores nationwide. 
 Smiles of Hope ® toothbrush
Susan G. Komen for the Cure is pleased to partner with Cause Care, LLC in the breast cancer movement.  From August 15, 2008 through August 15, 2010, Cause Care will sell a specially designed Smiles of Hope ® toothbrush through various retailers nationwide to benefit Komen for the Cure. 
 Susan G. Komen for the Cure®, Seattle branch, is also the recipient of a portion of proceeds from sales of the Walther P-22 Hope Edition gun from Discount Gun Sales LLC in recognition of Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Yes that's right, a "Hope" gun.
Does this gun accurately represent 
your hopes for a world free of breast cancer? 
It just makes me hope for better gun control laws in this country.
The Hope Bear
And the slick marketing campaigns go on ad nauseum with many, many examples to be found, where "hope" is the primary focus of campaigns designed to tug on the heartstrings of ordinary citizens to buy products that support the desires of breast cancer patients everywhere to receive the miracle of a cure.  The message is simple.  If you buy this product, then you invest in "hope", and what better way to show you care about breast cancer?  This is all very nice, but does the average person really know where their dollars are going when they cuddle that Hope bear, drink that Hope wine, or shoot that Hope gun?  They hope that their dollars are going to the right place, but is that enough?




"Hope" as a marketing strategy is not limited to corporate America alone.

The Cancer Treatment Centers of America, a network of cancer hospitals, actually have a website devoted entirely to this concept of "hope" called "The Journey of Hope", an online resource for cancer patients and their families seeking spiritual support.  Indeed, you can even train to be a "Hope Navigator"  so that.... "As you minister to cancer patients and their families, you help them find hope for their journey … hope spiritually, mentally, emotionally and physically. Hope for a successful battle against cancer."

The American Cancer Society offers their Hope Lodge service which provides free accommodation to cancer patients and their families and "is a place created to ease the burden of cancer treatment - a place where we give hope a home."  In addition, they have a charity campaign called "Give Hope" where "we all have reason to hope for a world with less cancer and more birthdays".

But what does "hope" really look like for someone dealing with a cancer diagnosis? Hope that the cancer is not too advanced and responds to treatment? Hope that the cancer doesn't come back?  Hope that we get to live out our dreams? Hope for a miracle cure? Hope that future generations won't have to worry about developing cancer? Hope that we won't die a painful and premature death?

Hope, it seems, is everywhere, especially in the breast cancer culture.  But is it really? Or do we just hide behind a mountain of pink-ribbon laden merchandise oozing syrupy hopeful messages, trusting that our purchases and donations will make all the difference and that corporate and benevolent America will deliver on the hopes of every breast cancer patient? Or are we being sold on false hope?  Perhaps,  the reality is that we are just hoping against hope, a state in which we hope without any basis for expecting fulfillment, because if we don't have hope then what else is there?

There are so many dynamics to "hope"in the context of cancer and yet what evidence do we really have to think that "hope" alone will save us?  It won't.  It's not enough to simply hope.  What we must to do is keep critically questioning.  Why does the incidence of cancer keep rising unchecked? Why have cancer mortality rates remain largely unchanged for decades? Where is the cancer research focus? Where are all those cancer fundraising dollars really going? Are we simply pouring money into more cancer awareness and education campaigns at the expense of funding potentially game-changing cancer research?   When will the government make cancer research funding a top priority? When will governments realize, that in setting law and policy, they can address key issues that will result in cancer prevention? What else can we be doing to aid the fight?

And what about my hope? As someone living with metastatic breast cancer, the statistics of my disease are frightening and offer very little in terms of "hope";

(Statistical information sourced from MetaVivor and Metastatic Breast Cancer Network).
  • It's estimated there are currently 162,000 women in the U.S. living with metastatic breast cancer 
  • 90% of cancer deaths result from stage IV cancer, but only 2% of research funds are devoted to stage IV cancer research.
  • In developed countries, nearly 30% of women with early stage breast will go on to develop metastatic breast cancer
  • Only 27% of patients whose breast cancer has spread to other organs survive five years
  • Median survival after diagnosis is three years with no statistically significant improvement in the past twenty years
  • The number of Americans who lose their lives to metastatic breast cancer is about 40,000 per year, a number that has changed little in decades.
  • Far too many patients must face their challenges with little to no support. Most programs focus on wellness and recovery, avoiding any reference to stage IV. 
  • Breast cancer is the most common kind of cancer in women, and the leading cause of cancer death for women worldwide, with nearly half a million deaths every year.
So where do my hopes lie?
  • I hope that I can continue to defy the grim statistics that come with my disease.
  • I hope that, sooner rather than later, metastatic cancer will be given the research priority and funding that it needs, so that we too stand a chance to live long and productive lives.
  • I hope that we will move away from cause-based product marketing and consumerism that has become so ingrained in our collective psyche', so that we can be sure that every dollar we invest in "hope" for a cancer-free world is directed to meaningful and potentially life-saving research.
  • I hope that I can expect positive change in the way we confront cancer to happen within my lifetime.  
  • I hope that I can still have real hope.



Sunday, January 9, 2011

How Are You Feeling?

Here I am back to blogging with a vengeance after what can only be described as the worst vacation ever.  My hubby and I had slunk off for a week in a warmer climate, which at this time of year, put us half-way around the world.  We landed on Monday, and by Tuesday I was laid up in bed with a serious fever and a chest infection the likes of which my immune system had never seen before.

Similar size to the bag-o-drugs
I was prescribed on my vacation
A consultation with the hotel medical team, a butt-load of injections, and a shopping bag full of drugs, and I was at least on the road to recovery, but not quick enough to be able to enjoy our little taste of summer.  Suffice to say, I only managed to leave the hotel room on our last day there, so I was only able to soak up some rays for a couple of hours, until it was time to repack our bags (or not, in my case, since I barely got out of my bed shirt) and head back home to the freezer.

So with all that said, today I am still quite under-the-weather and still feeling somewhat irritated with life, the universe and my battered immune system, which doesn't seem to be able to protect me as well as it used to from all of these little nasties.  But enough with feeling sorry for myself !  Here's what I'm irked about today.

I had an email today from an old friend, whom I haven't seen in at least a few years, although we've traded the odd greeting over Facebook.  So she sends me this email that basically says, "Hi. How are you feeling ?  I keep up with your news via Paula (a mutual friend). Hope to hear from your soon.  Love X."

There's a few things about the nature of this email that ticked me off, so strap yourselves in, here's my first real rant for 2011.

1.  "How are you feeling?":  Why does this question have to always be the lead-in to conversations with me? It irritates the hell out of me. I could understand it if you're my doctor, then this seems like a reasonable question.  I could also understand you're wanting to know if I was lying horizontal in a bed, with a fever of 103, and a death-rattle in my chest worthy of a serious emphysema diagnosis.  Oh wait, that was me this week, but it's not me usually, is the point I want to make.

I just don't know how I'm supposed to answer this question.  I mean what is it that you want to hear when you ask me that ?  Do you really want a run-down of my entire medical file, or do you just want to hear me say "good, good" so you can feel okay about the rest of our conversation and we won't have to go THERE.  Christopher Hitchens, columnist for Vanity Fair, deigns sometimes to simply answer "I seem to have cancer today". (See his article, Miss Manners And the Big C).  I usually just turn it around, by asking the other person how they're feeling.

Someone in my family recently said to me that many people struggle with what to actually say to me as they don't know, and they're afraid of saying the wrong thing.  The problem with this kind of an attitude, is that it usually translates into saying nothing to me at all, and that's not right.  I've always tried to be open about what is going on with me, but I don't feel the need to open all my conversations by talking about my cancer.  So why should you feel the need to either ? However, I can certainly understand if you have questions, so how about something like this?

"Hi.  What have you been up to ? *talk for a good 5-minutes or so on any topic of your choosing* then feel free to throw in, "So how's your treatment going?" or "How's things with you these days?". You see by this time, you've indicated that you're really interested in hearing about what's going on with me on both the normal life-in-general front and the cancer-front.  And if I'm in the mood to talk about the cancer-front, then I'll tell you and I'll be perfectly happy to answer any questions you might have.  If I'm not in the mood to talk about it, I might say something like "Hey, do you mind if we don't talk about this right now, but I'd be happy to do it another time".  And hopefully because you know me so well, you'll respect that, and we can just get on with it.  The thing is, I don't hold the key to the all the rules of cancer etiquette just because I have it.  But I am still a person with feelings, and I'm not a walking medical file or oddity and nor should this be the only thing that we have to talk about.

2. "I keep up with your news via our mutual friend".  So why are you bothering to talk with me at all ?

3. "Hope to hear from you soon".  So you send me a three-line email and now you are expecting me to send you a full accounting of what's going on with me without even bothering to tell me what's going on with you?  I don't think so.  Friendship is a two-way street.  You get a bit about me, if I get a bit about you.  Pretty simple, right ?

All I'm saying is just have a normal conversation with me.  If you want to know about what's going on with the cancer, then just ask.  But don't be offended if I decline to answer, or don't be shocked if you get more information than you bargained for.  Most of all,  just treat me normally.  It's not required that you ask me how I'm feeling every time you talk to me.  

Ask me how I'm feeling today though, and the answer is, "grumpy!"

Friday, June 5, 2009

What Am I ?

In an earlier post, I mentioned the issue of identity within the cancer culture, something which seems particularly significant within the so-called breast cancer community.  Since my original diagnosis I have struggled to maintain and shape my identity within the breast-cancer realm.  On the one hand, I feel angry that I have to some extent lost the identity of the person I was before diagnosis but on the other hand I continue to struggle to determine my identity now. Mostly, I just feel like an ordinary normal person dealing with extraordinary circumstances the best way I know how. But the cancer culture that I inhabit seems to want to constantly label and identify me in a way that just doesn't seem to fit me as an individual.  

The breast cancer community has  adopted it's own vernacular, for which the usage of certain words appear to seek to make the disease more palatable  and marketable as a cause to the rest of the world.  Pink has also become the color of choice to symbolize the cause and underpin the (mostly) feminine nature of the disease.  Too bad if you're a man with breast cancer I guess.   At this point,  I don't really wish to engage in a debate on the for's and against of the apparent commercialization of the breast-cancer cause,  except to say that there are certainly aspects which I find quite disturbing as an unwilling bystander in the circus of Pink. (Further reading on this particular subject is listed below).

The well-known activist author, Barbara Ehrenreich, wrote an extremely enlightened and honest article for Harper's Magazine in 2001, entitled "Welcome to Cancerland".  In this article, she points out that there is no single noun to describe a woman with breast cancer.  She is either a patient, a victim, or a survivor.  She also never suffersstruggles or endures but instead bravely battles or  fights with the disease and then emerges a victorious soldier worthy of donning the esteemed mantle of survivor to proudly display to the world at a dizzying array of pink-colored events.  Other cursed women become sisters, part of a larger sisterhood who are inherently expected to provide unending support and impart wisdom and hope to the latest additions to the sisterhood.  As Ms Ehrenreich points out: 
"it is the survivors who merit constant honor and acclaim.  They, after all, offer living proof that expensive and painful treatments may in some cases actually work."

Well what about the rest of us ?  Those of us who live with cancer everyday because current treatment protocols simply aren't curative. Where do we fit into all the pink hoopla and pageantry ?  If we are not survivors then what are we ?  Are we  failuresdisappointments, inadequate letdowns, useless , etc ?  

I don't really have an answer to this question but I do know that I just don't identify with the pink ra-ra chanting sisterhood of survivors which the rest of the world seems to want so desperately for me to be a part of.  It's not okay that I have cancer.   Having this thing in me doesn't make me a hero and I don't wish to be cast as an inspiration to anyone.  And most of all,  it certainly isn't cool or glamorous in any way shape or form and I don't wish to adorn myself, my house, my neighborhood, or my office in tacky, sappy, syrupy pink merchandise.   It sucks and I'm angry and pissed off about it but this doesn't mean that I need to find solace in the arms of a well meaning support group or counsellor.  I just want to get on with it and I don't want to do it wearing a pink t-shirt emblazoned with the word "Survivor".  

Further reading: