Documentary Delirium

When I was a kid my parents bought a set of Encyclopedia Britannica which included a set of children's volumes. Each of the books had a specific topic: fairy tales, nature, science, etc. The worn, faded cover of the "Famous People" volume with the pages falling out was a testament to my fondness for my favourite. Yup! Red Riding Hood and Rupunzel were tossed in favour of Harriet Tubman and the underground railroad, Susan B Anthony and her fight for women's rights and "Give me liberty or give me death" Patrick Henry. Simply put, I was a cynical child who found fairy tales frustrating and childish, and true stories totally satisfying. Did I mention I didn't smile until I was seven?That has not changed (except for the part about me not smiling), and extends to my taste in films as well, especially documentaries. Real life is simply more riveting (to me).

I have been on a bit of a documentary roll lately, and enjoying every minute of it. Last night my daughter joined me downtown for a preview screening of Pink Ribbons, Inc. The film examines a myriad of issues around breast cancer and the corporate pink ribbon marketing phenomenon -- pinkwashing. “We used to march in the streets; now we run for a cure.” When the lights came up Harmony and I sat quietly in our seats, absorbing what we had experienced and regrouping. The film left an indelible mark and so much to discuss. What causes breast cancer? How can it be prevented? Where do the dollars raised go?  Who, if anyone, is spearheading the search for a cause/cure for this devastating disease? What about the hypocrisy in companies running pink ribbon campaigns that sell products containing toxins linked to cancer? How can we affect change in women's health care? Who is in charge?

If you have breasts and/or have ever donated to breast cancer research, you should see this film.  It was named one of the TOP 10 Films when it premiered at TIFF in September and when it opens in theatres February 3rd I hope people flock to see it. It is an important film. And hey - you need something to gnaw on when you are lying in bed with your insomnia! [steps off soap box]

Waiting Room

The waiting room past the outer waiting room is full to capacity. Waiting room. It's where women sit, their offending breasts partially concealed by poorly designed hospital-wear. They sit elbow to elbow, focused intently on their outdated magazine, or the book they brought along for amusement - if there is any to be had.

Some, like me just sit staring - at the paled hues of the walls; at the posters cautioning that these procedures could harm pregnancies, and reminding us to turn off our cell phones. Everyone has their own technique for masquerading their fears, but the eyes don't lie.

The waiting; it's trying and terrifying. Boobs in vices, needled, squeezed, examined, scanned and then tested some more.

Old ladies; younger women; ladies in running shoes, strappy sandals, and flip flops. Breast cancer does not discriminate. Here, we are all ladies in waiting ...

I am not the one being tested; I am just along for support for my loved one.

You may be interested in a previous post I wrote:  Clamp Down on Breast Cancer.

Clamp Down on Breast Cancer

Don't give up hope. I love this message -- found in a Dove chocolate wrapper.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month and I am using this post to remind my lady friends of the importance of early detection. I had my own scare two years ago ...

 "I don't think THAT is supposed to be there."  Hubby had found a lump. I had trouble feeling it for  myself ... but after much prodding and squeezing, I found the offensive, hard, ball of terror. My knees instantly weakened, my breathing stopped - and I felt like my heart did too. For certain - time stood still. I processed the finding. After the shock faded, so did the fear. Years ago I had a similar experience when I found a lump the size of a small plum on my neck. It turned out to be a cyst. I didn't worry then - and I didn't worry with this new discovery. I was fairly convinced that it would turn out to be a cyst ... but I took immediate action all the same.

I went to my family doctor, a woman about my own age. After conducting a physical breast exam, she was unable to find or feel any lumps. I asked her for a mammogram. At 47, I had never had one, and there had been some breast cancer in our family history. She was nonchalant, and replied, "well, if you think you will feel better by having one, I'll schedule you a mammogram. I guess it couldn't hurt".

So off I truddled to my first mammogram appointment (the details of which could be its own humourous post), confident with the knowledge that I was being proactive and preventive. It's an odd sensation having your breasts sanwiched - flattened - between the metal clamps. The elderly, kindly technician smiled as she tightened the clamps and said, "let me know when you can't tolerate it anymore". She had explained that the flatter the breast, the better the result - so I bravely went beyond my tolerance and then whispered --"OK - that's as far as I can take it". Then she kciked it up one last notch. That little lady was a sneaky one, but I was on to her game.

I never imagined how good relief could feel until she freed me and invited me to take a seat while she reviewed the film. Admittedly, my knees were weak and the big black spots I was seeing was telling me that I was on the verge of passing out. Release came just in time. After waiting for about 15 minutes in my trendy gown, she emerged from the developing room to announce that we were going to do it again. Well, we ended up doing it three times over, and by the time I left with her cheerful, "now don't worry if we call you to come back in -- it's your first one and that is very common" - I was starting to get a little nervous.

A week later, I was called back in. We repeated the process and she explained that she wanted the radiologist to be present to get a good reading. I agreed wholeheartedly. Believe it or not, I was called back for a third time and this time I received an ultrasound. Fear was starting to creep in. I could see a mass on the screen. The technician is not allowed to reveal what they see, but there it was, as plain as day, and it looked like there was more than one.

A follow up visit to my doctor resulted in her telling me I was loaded with what they thought were cysts -- more than 20. Ironically she still was unable to detect any of them in the physical exam she gave me that same visit -- even after I tried to show her.

Needless to say, I fired her and went to my dad's family doctor. I needed to know something definitive here. After all that I had learned about breast cancer, I wasn't going to fall short of knowing what I was dealing with. I was mobilized by anger and frustration.

To make a long story not so long, I ended up having a needle biopsy and a few of the larger cysts aspirated to make me more comfortable. I had been referred to a breast expert and under his diligent care, I found out that I have dense breasts and am just loaded with cysts - but I do not have cancer.

I am one of the lucky ones but what I learned from this experience is something that I knew all along -- we have to take charge of our own health and insist on knowing what our symptons point to. I will continue to request mammograms every two years and conduct regular self-exams on my breasts. Early detection is key.

To all of the women who are living and fighting with breast cancer, I send you strength and hugs. Don't give up hope.

The Canadian Cancer Society  has this neat little gizmo called the Thingamaboob. It looks like a keychain made of different sized clear, pink beads and it shows  the different lump sizes that can be detected through a variety of breast-screening methods. Go the to the Thingamaboob website to learn more about the importance of mammograms or get your own Thingamaboob.

View the TIME: Breast Cancer Photo Essay -- prepare to be moved.

You may be interested in my post Waiting Room.

Relay for Life

Hope is alive and well and faith restored. And no, I am not talking about Obama. Last night I grabbed Fritz and wandered up to the high school for the Relay for Life opening ceremonies. Kidlet and her pals had a team of superheroes (their costumes) and were participating with more than 600 other students, to help raise awareness of, and money for cancer. The inner field of the running track was converted to a tent city, local bands entertained the crowd with their mostly own material, the air was electric and the excitement was palpable.

I sent Kidlet back to her friends as the ceremonies began and I tried to get Fritz to walk off some of his hyper-ness. As we wandered up and down the makeshift "streets", I couldn't help but smile at the personalities of the individual "camps" ... a Harry Potter pillow, a Sailor Moon pillowcase, someone's special blanket, various beloved stuffed animals, posters of loved ones lost to cancer ...

I could hear the speeches of the four students who told their stories -- of loss and of survival. As each student took the stage, the crowd was hushed, many faces contorted in sadness and tears and some had expressionless, faces frozen in stunned shock. There was a moment when one of the girls speaking stopped mid sentence, voice clenched with grief .... dead silence. The crowd waited just a moment before slowly breaking out into supportive applause.

It moved me beyond words. The sight of the future custodians of our world, experiencing - demonstrating - the goodness that can be achieved in solidarity, in the joining of hearts and minds.

Fritz and I bid Kidlet a fond goodnight - she even kissed me in front of her friends without apparent embarrassment. As we made our way home Fritz and I agreed that nothing makes us more hopeful than the beauty of youthful action ... Relay for Life is really a Display of Life.