It's the Little Things...

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"Don't Sweat the Small Stuff"

"Stop and Smell the Flowers"


"It's the Simple Things in Life"
...each of these are absolutely correct (albeit trite) adages.


I have had my own epiphany. A variation on these age-old themes, if you will, since my diagnosis with Invasive Lobular Carcinoma. If I appear to wax in a rambling poetic manner (a la Jabberwocky), or a perpetrator of TMI, please indulge and forgive - it is not intentional...at least the poetic part.

For me, it truly has been the little things that I have noticed since dealing with my diagnosis of breast cancer.


I noticed that I did NOT know that there are two types of breast cancer: Lobular & Ductal.

I noticed that I did NOT know that there are subsets to Lobular & Ductal, i.e. Invasive and Non-Invasive.

I noticed that I felt strangely compelled to look up the definition of invasive ten times.

I noticed that not knowing these things was only the proverbial tip of the iceberg.

I noticed the irony that the lobules in the breast are the source of the most nutritious food you can provide your newborn child. I breast-fed three - the last one just 7 years ago.

I noticed the irony that breast feeding is supposed to be a prophylactic against breast cancer.

I noticed that when I was going through all of the diagnostic measures I was always the youngest in the waiting room. (I do acknowledge that being in Arizona means I reside in one of the retirement capitals of the nation.)

I noticed that each and every med-pro that I interrogated started each and every conversation with the unquestioning assumption that because I was young (so relative) that I was going to jump into the toxic-soup. As they stood outside the pot--in their protective gear, holding the ladle.

I noticed that even as an organic, rarely meat-eating, fruit, nut, veggie-consuming type I had no idea of the nutritional deficiencies that can contribute to breast cancer. E.g. a lack of Vitamin D.

I noticed the irony that I live in a climate that has triple-digit sunshine weather 9 months out of the year. Hell, we can export Vitamin D.

I noticed that the my medical issues over the years have been "stressed-related": migraines, miscarriages, pre-term labor, cancer ...THINK (?)

I noticed that I was immediately aware of and repulsed by the ridiculous amount of "pink-ribbon" merchandising that is thrust upon us by retailers - especially during my birthday month.

I then noticed that I had been a good little consumer of some of these pink trinkets (under the misconception that I was contributing to the CAUSE...I mean...CURE somehow??).

I noticed that the CAUSE is making millions for pharmaceutical companies, so there really is no true motivation for a CURE.

I noticed that for some reason I cannot don my pink-ribbon running cap...and forget the Race for the Cure this October...I am so not going to be there. First, and permanent, absence in 15 years.

That's when I noticed that I really am not a good card-carrying member of this exclusive, yet expansive, club of "breast cancer survivors."

I noticed that I am having a hard time coming to terms with the concept of "survivor."

I noticed that I might have subversive tendencies. (If W were in office I might be more concerned that my blog would be monitored for typing (and pinging) the word S-U-B-V-E-R-S-I-V-E.)

I noticed that people are surprised by my appearance. Not because that I appear sickly, its because I don't.

I noticed that my 8-year old has a hard time taking his eyes off the "d-bombs." Even though I have tried to conceal them in a jewelry gift-bag that I lace through a pirate belt I sport at my hips.

I noticed that I am obscenely fascinated by the red-stringy stuff that gets sucked out by, and stuck in, the "d-bombs" (OOOOO, I DID HEAR THE COLLECTIVE 'EWWWWW' CHIME FROM MY LAPTOP.)

I noticed that in the sometimes awkward conversations regarding my recent mastectomy and diagnosis people are really "punny" (pronounced: pun-nee).

I noticed how much better I felt in just having the surgical oncologist remove the operative tape that covered the stitches from my sentinel node biopsy. The underarm is really an "ouch" area.

I noticed what a thrill it was to find out that without the surgical tape my shower-mobility increased two-fold -- no more Bohemian pits. (THERE'S THAT 'EWWWW' AGAIN.)

I noticed that I am thrilled with the bizarre and sometimes painful feel of nerve-endings firing in my surgical area.

I noticed that most everyone you meet or speak with has had their life touched by cancer.

I noticed that for me (so far) a breast cancer diagnosis has not been my emotional "rock bottom." It dawned on me that dealing with my child's eating-disorder diagnosis years ago was way more emotionally, psychologically and physically draining.

I also noticed that at times I cannot bear to hear yet another cancer story.

I also noticed that I listen nonetheless, because I know that they are retold for all the right reasons: to demonstrate courage; because humans believe in the power of healing by sharing; and that connecting through communication is essential for us as a species -- even those of us in the subversive subset.