It's All About the Pink, Take Care of Yourselves Sisters!

A few things come to mind when October rolls around: my sister's birthday, my best friend's birthday and most importantly, Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Unfortunately, the latter wasn't a part of my reality until December 2005, my senior year of undergrad. As I sat with my mommy on my bed days after I completed my fall semester finals, I listened as she proceeded to tell me a lump was found on her breast. For one of the first time in my life, I was speechless. And I felt completely helpless.

She proceeded to tell me she discovered it one day while she was in the shower, not long after she was told by her doctor her mammogram indicated she was okay. So, this meant (fortunately) the cancer was caught in its first stage, but I wasn't hearing that at the time. All I heard was there was cancer in my mother's body. My mommy. The woman who was my backbone, my everything (in a moral sense) had cancer. Was she going to die? What made it more interesting was she had known for at least a month and didn't tell me. Actually, everyone in my family knew, but she swore them all to secrecy because she knows how sensitive I am and that I had finals approaching.

I instantly grabbed her hand and told her WE would beat this. She told me her surgery (a lumpectomy) was scheduled to occur within the next week.

And we did beat it.

About a week later, we traveled to the hospital and I waited for her as she underwent her procedure. I sat in the waiting room with others as they waited for their loved ones. I saw doctors enter the room to tell some their loved ones had passed and was instantly brought back to the moment less than a year prior when my grandmother (my mom's mother) died, and I wanted to flee away. I was snapped back to the present when my mother's last name was called and I was directed to meet my mommy in recovery. Thank you Jesus! So, I watched her sleep, ate hospital food and watched old episodes of Cops as I slept off and on on a couch next to her hospital bed.

The next day, we traveled back home where her recovery began and Nurse/Mommy Iya came in mode. I slapped her hand every time she tried to lift more than the doctors said and cut my eye at her every time she stayed on her feet longer than necessary while I was home for Christmas break.

She started her six and a half week radiation treatment in February, which ended in March, the week of my Spring Break from school. Most girls I went to school with were going to the beach, but I wanted nothing more than to travel with my mom every day during her last week of her radiation treatments. She was indeed a trooper! Her hospital trip included an hour and a half drive to AND from the hospital AND the treatment itself, with the most positive attitude! Wow...

So, about a year later, I was contemplating another tattoo, which is important to me because it's permanent. So, I kept thinking--what do I want? And just like that, one of my dear friends suggested it--a pink breast cancer ribbon! Genius! So, the next trip to see my mommy, that's what I got, and it's a friendly reminder of her and all women who fight this disease.

It wasn't until I started conducting research on the topic (because of my mom and for articles I've written) that I realized how prevalent this disease is among African-American women. According to the Center for Disease Control, breast cancer is the second most common cause of cancer among black women.

I thank God for my mommy every single day. I thank God for telling her at 59 years old to trust her "woman's intuition" and get checked out.

This is a lesson to all of us to keep mindful of our health. We're never too young or too old to do so.

As much as we sometimes hate to admit it, Mommy does indeed know best.