Thursday, December 5, 2013

Giveaway and Review - MedCenter System

It's not a secret that cancer patients take drugs.  As do the elderly and most of of the people in this country. And, if you take more than one, like I do, then you end up having pill bottles stacked around. Not only that, but if you have chemo-brain, you might not remember how many pills you have taken in a day.

I know I have done this - had a day of pain and likely taken more than prescribed.  On the other end, I've had days where I felt good and didn't take any, when one of them is supposed to be taken anyway to keep the pain control at a steady level.   Non-compliance with medication is a huge problem in the medical world, and a lot of it is accidental.  "Did I take my pills today?  Hmmm.....well, I guess I better take one/skip one, just in case."   So, when I was asked to review this MedCenter System, I didn't hesitate.

The MedCenter System is not one of those weekly pill counters that still leaves you with bottles of pills in your bathroom or bedside or kitchen - several types of which I've tried and discarded.  It seems silly to only use it for a week when you have a month of medicine.  This system has the entire month at your disposal in a very handy and neat-looking form factor.  Not only that, it comes with a timer that you can set for up to four times a day, for your morning, afternoon, evening and nighttime meds, and will remind you when your next dose is due.  Each case end has a different color - green means full, red means empty and you can see it at a glance.  There is a little tray marked "today's pills" and you take that case out of the stand, put it in the tray and take your meds at the appropriate time of the day, and then when you put it back that night, you turn it over to the red side, and pull out the next days pills.

There are only two problems that I have found using this system.  One, the containers can be difficult to open at first.  I had a spoon sitting beside the system so I could open using that instead of my fingers. It has a little curve on the side so a spoon will just pop it open.   If you are setting it up for an elderly parent, you may want to open and close each case for a bit to loosen it up, and show them the spoon trick.   They do, however, loosen, and not all were tight - 90% of them were easy to use straight from the box.  The other problem is that not all of us get a monthly supply of pills at once.  Some of mine are every ten days, some every month, and that happens at different times during the month. I used to save all the bottles so I'd see how empty they were getting and know when to refill.  Instead, I now keep a little pad and paper behind the system with the prescription number and refill date (which I also put into my calendar).

The best part is that I don't take too many meds per day anymore. If I'm having a bad day with pain, then I just know I have to take what is in the container and not keep reaching for the bottle, possibly overdosing myself and then have the problem of being short at the end of the month.   But the best best part is that I have my counter cleaned up.  I keep mine in the kitchen as it is the handiest place.

Before:



After:


As you can see, there is an open spot for your nasal spray, if you happen to be addicted to Afrin like I am.

This is an excellent product for anybody who needs to take medications and I highly recommend it.  It would be especially handy for a confused elderly person but is very useful for me too.

Not that I'm not confused. Or, by some people's estimating (hello son), elderly.

So, where do you get one?  Well, the MedCenter System products can be found nationwide at a variety of retailers including Walgreens, as well as hundreds of .coms, including our favorite store, Amazon.com

But, in honor of this month of giving, the company has agreed to giveaway not one, not two, but three of these MedCenter Systems to my readers!

Here is all  you have to do.  Go to https://www.facebook.com/MedCenterSystems and "like" their facebook page.   Then come back here, leave a comment telling me you have done so, and I will randomly choose a winner.  You must comment by noon on December 12th.   You may remain anonymous in your comments but you will have to share your name and address with me privately if you do win so you can be shipped the product.  The company promises it will ship as soon as they get it, so it might make a nice Christmas gift.

Oh, and if you can, please take the time to vote for me on Healthline's Best Blogs contest.  Not a requirement of entry but I would appreciate it.

 The contest is closed and the winners will be announced this week.  Thank you!

Thursday, November 28, 2013

Happy Thanksgiving

I am so grateful that I am around to celebrate this holiday again.  I'm thankful for my family and friends, who have been so supportive. I'm indebted to my medical team: nurses, doctors, assistants - who keep me going and are so kind and caring.   I appreciate all of my blog readers, facebook followers, whose comments and posts keep me going.  On those days I'm so sick I can barely move, one of my first thoughts is you all.  Who knew you'd be integrated into my life the way you have become?

I hope you each has a wonderful Thanksgiving in your own way, with friends and family, football and turkey.  But if this is not your holiday, if you are reading this from another country, than just take a moment today to be grateful for what you do have - as we all should ever day.  No matter how difficult life can be, there is always one good thing, whether it is a purring cat, the way sunlight catches on a leaf, or a hot shower with a delicious soap.  The simple things, ultimately, can keep you going.

Happy Thanksgiving,

Love,

Ann






(PS:  Don't forget to vote for me on the Best Blog Contest.  Due to technical problems, people could not vote for me for a week so we have some ground to make up! )

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Healthline's "Best Blog Contest" Begins Again

Last year, I won this contest by the skin of my nose.  To be honest, I didn't think I would be around to enter it this year.  Remarkably, I am still here, thanks to Perjeta and Gamma Knife radiation.

I had thought, when told I was nominated again, that I may not do it.  I dislike the nagging, the reminding, the problems.  I don't really have much of a competitive spirit.  I get sick too often to even vote for myself everyday and wouldn't that be guilt-full if I lost by one vote?

But I asked my friends who post on facebook, and to a person, they said to do it again.  And, I can't turn down a potential $1,000 prize for my son's college education.  He's a senior, he graduates THIS YEAR!   So, I've decided to participate again.

You can vote right here:  Click on but doctor i hate pink. (I don't know why it's in lower case this year.)  You will need either a facebook or twitter account to log in to vote.  They use your facebook account to post that you voted for me, but you can click the "x" if you want to keep it a secret. They will not spam you throughout the year, you don't need to worry about giving them access.  Better yet, share it and ask your friends to vote for me too.  I'm currently in 3rd place and my dream would be to get so far ahead so quickly that I can ease up on the reminders.

This month I will have three giveaways for you, in honor of the month of Thanks and the Season of Giving.   So, most of my upcoming posts will be about you all winning prizes but I do have one or two written about my past and how I came to be "me."  I think it may be time to "go there."

Now, I have chemo today so I must get ready.  Whether I win this contest or not, the fact that I've lived to see it come around again is truly a gift.  I wish everybody who is participating good-luck and good cheer from me.






Thursday, November 14, 2013

"Take a breath.....Hold it.....Breathe Out...."

You all probably recognize the title as what a CT machine says to you  in a sing-song way when you are laying there on the scanner, warmth wearing off the blankets,  curly cue cord of the IV in your arm ready for contrast to be pushed into you remotely.

I finally got frustrated at my endless night of sleep, listened to my family, and called my doctor a few days ago, telling him I was not able to wake up.  When I made the call, I had gotten out of bed, struggled to the dining table, and was breathless, which his wonderful assistant could hear over the phone.  I told her my big problem was fatigue but she seemed concerned about the breathlessness and hey, at the time, I was really breathless, she was right.  My body had been in bed for more than a week straight, moving and talking on the phone was a struggle, and I had to pause between every word to get air.

Naturally,  they called me into the oncology office to get my blood checked.  Anemia made the most sense. Getting there was a hard task with my exhaustion, particularly getting dressed. Fortunately, my son has not started his new job yet and was able to drive me.   I was afraid I couldn't stay awake on the road, and I felt too weak to drive myself.  When my blood came back as being non-anemic, even in the ranges of you normal people, the doctor scratched his head and sent me off for a chest X-Ray.

Okay, he wasn't actually there so I didn't see him scratch, I'm just assuming.

That X-Ray also came out normal.

I was willing to leave it there. I'm feeling a bit better, awake more; I was up for hours yesterday, and although I have been availing myself of ritalin - it is working unlike before.  I got up at a normal time today, much to my cat's dismay. I'm still lacking in energy in an extreme way, and I feel weak,  but am not sleeping all day. Then his assistant called and left a message, saying the doctor wanted a scan.

In my head, I was thinking maybe a PET so I was okay with that.  To be honest, if anything is wrong with me cancer-wise, it seems like it would be my brain going wonky and wanting to sleep, and I thought maybe a PET would show brain mets.  I was not thinking lung, and I still am not.

But just now, I got the call for the appointment and it is for a chest CT.  With contrast.

This makes maybe my 50th scan and that is not an exaggeration, nor an exact count.  It could even be more considering all the surgeries, radiation, etc, that I've had them for.

I am just not sure I can do another one.  I just ..... can't. They aren't scary or hurtful and they don't make me nervous or anything.  But I'm tired of this.  I'm sick of being in machines.  I'm sick of having to dress, get in the car, go wait in a waiting room, change, get on a machine, little poke, take a breath, hold it, breathe out, okay, here comes the contrast you might feel warmth down there, breathe in hold it breathe out, okay you are done, drink lots of water and no caffeine, get dressed, drive back home........how many times is one woman expected to do this?

Maybe cancer has moved into my lungs.  Or brain.  Maybe I just had some virus.  I'm getting up again, still tired but not sleeping all day.  Maybe it was just a "thing."  Maybe, imaginatively, my body is practicing to die, maybe, practically, the infusions are affecting me, maybe ....maybe.... I don't know.  But I do know that whatever it is, I cannot do one. more. test.  The doctor hasn't seen me.   I am tired of being doctored by machine.   I don't want to do this and I feel like a 3 year old stamping her feet.  I CAN'T DO THIS AGAIN!!!!!

I called and talked to my doctor's assistant, told her I was better and didn't feel like I wanted to do a CT, and said unless the doctor had a good reason for it, I was going to cancel my appointment.  She said she'd ask him and let me know.  She did, he said that he'd only ordered it in case the chest x-ray missed something, I know my body best, and so the CT is cancelled.

The lesson for me is:  DO NOT CALL MY DOCTOR if I feel sick but am not in danger of imminent death. My problem was sleeping, and it got translated into breathlessness, which is understandable because that's what they could hear, but then I was going down the wrong road.

Which barely matters, because all roads lead one place:  machines.   And, right now, I am so over CT machines.  So so over them....

Breathe Out........




Oh, and you are welcome insurance company, I just saved you $7,000.00.

Monday, November 11, 2013

Serious Fatigue

Right now, I walk a weird line.  Having written a blog that is based on humor, and now finding myself in a very unfunny place, what do I do?  Do I keep writing?  Do I wait until I can make what I'm experiencing amusing for my readers?  Do I hope for the best, or do I just let those of you who are now invested in my story know what life is like for me, even if it's dreary and complaining?

My plan from the beginning was to chronicle breast cancer in a non-threatening and amusing way, so that when others got it and did what I did - google for first-hand stories - they would find something not so scary. Because, early treatment really isn't scary and it isn't like the movies or TV with all that barfing and crying. All that seemed to be out there when I was diagnosed were blogs of people who died, or those of people who were still writing (and complaining) about cancer ten years past their treatment, making it seem like the worst thing that could happen (which for them it may be, but it wasn't for me and I imagine it isn't for everybody).  I felt like it would be a blip in my life and then over; I'd be annoyed at having one boob and that would be it.  I wanted others to know that people like me are out there -that we had cancer and let it go and that is okay, we don't have to run pink races or be activists or live a life defined by one bad experience.   Since I couldn't find a blog like that - I would write it.

As my treatment ended and I had my 3 month check-up post-therapy I had decided to say good-bye here and close up shop.  That post is half written, lying around on my computer somewhere.

Because of course, I never finished it due to the discovery of mets to my liver.  I now would not be one for whom life would go on, spent with occasional annoyance at my boob-less state but mostly just enjoying my family and career.  Instead, I would have cancer material for the rest of my very short life. Cancer could never be the temporary, nerve-wracking yet interesting life experience that I had thought it would be. It was going to kill me.

Damn.

And, while I could still have some laughs along the way, it was going to get grim.  I mean, death isn't always funny if you aren't slipping on a banana peel.  But I decided to write about it up to the end, or as close to the end as I could get.  Every story needs an ending and while we know mine, we don't know the details.  So I decided to continue along as far as I could get.

And so here I am, not close to death, I don't think,  but also in a very unfunny place right now.  Not as unfunny as c-diff, which is probably the un-funniest experience of my life, but my life right now is pretty miserable.

Where I am and what I'm doing is sleeping.

All the time.

18 hours a day, at least.  I sleep like my cat, who is in kitty heaven having me in bed continually.  I sleep so much  I am only hoping I can finish typing this before I go back to bed.

Now, if you follow me on facebook, you may have seen posts or likes, but they don't give much of an indication of what I'm really doing, all of the time.  Which is lying in bed, and not only lying but also sleeping. I wake up, have to pee, which wears me out so much I need another six hours.  I wake up, walk into the living room to see who is around, which is so exhausting I need to go back and sleep for two more.  Because family is important, and food is important, I do get up and eat, and stay up after that.  My body somehow adjusts itself to stay awake a few hours at night.  But that's all.

Just a month or so ago I had energy.  I was creating pendants (don't buy one) and was excited about life and starting a little business that could help my son with minor college expenses (very minor, like a Starbucks Mocha, but still...). I knew I was sick, and felt sick compared to when I was healthy - but life was okay.   I enjoyed getting up and making the jewelry and picking my son up from school.  I was happy sitting by my computer, watching my hummingbirds feed from a feeder I bought, from nectar I made, and while my life was restricted, those little things were joyful.  I wasn't able to cook dinner for my family - standing for an hour or more was hard and I have zero appetite and believe it or not, when nothing sounds good you don't want to cook.  So, my husband has taken that job over - but I could make myself a bagel in the morning. I read the paper, as I have since I was six. I pick my son up from school.  I went with a friend to a show.

A month ago, I felt like I was getting better and that I'd soon be able to grocery shop again, cook again, live a normal life again.  The cancer was stable, I'd radiated it, I had time, I thought.  It was getting easier to walk, to stand, to breathe.   I told my husband that I thought he'd get a break, that I'd feel good enough to do chores and be normal soon.  One day, I even cleaned the entire living room - dusted, vacuumed, wiped the leather chair, stuff I hadn't done in a year.    I invited people for the holidays, made gifts, thought ahead.  Life was small but okay and I felt like it was going to get better.  I knew it wasn't forever, but I thought I might have some time before cancer grew back and I became ill again.

Then about two weeks ago, I crashed.  I got out of bed at about 10:30 and still felt exhausted, my legs like rubber.  I drank half a cup of coffee, skimmed the paper, and decided to go back to bed. It was just too early.   I slept until 1:30 and got up, checked on the dogs, sat in the dining room where the sunlight and computer is, and then 30 minutes later, went back to bed and slept some more. I slept until 4:30 or 5:00.  I woke up long enough to eat dinner with my family, check facebook, and then nap until  8:30 pm.  My husband woke me to watch TV, and I stayed awake the longest period of that day - until 11:00.  Then I went right back to sleep.  I'd been awake maybe 6 hours that day.

Okay, so this has happened before.  I know what this is, (although not why) and I call it my "downer day."   Tomorrow, I thought,  I'll be tired but better, and the next day I'll be a little weaker but be fine,  and the day after I'll be normal.  For me, anyway.

But that hasn't happened. I'm still sleeping all day.  At first, I thought I was getting a cold, like my son had, but that isn't the case.   I am just completely and utterly fatigued, even when awake, which is just brief periods a day.  During those minutes, I might look at facebook or check my email but it's not long until my eyes start to close.    My legs shake as I walk; they feel like jello and I am terribly achy and weak.  Getting dressed seems difficult to the point of impossible, and I spend the day in PJs, carrying a blanket around like a ghost because I'm cold.  I can't shower as I can't stand on these spaghetti legs, so I take a bath, but not daily.  It's too much effort to fill the tub, get the temperature right, and I'm afraid I'll fall asleep in the middle and flood my house.  I can't come up with words, talking is difficult, and even typing - I make many mistakes.  This post has been days in the writing.

My doctor had prescribed me ritalin for fatigue.  That was for normal "cancer" fatigue - and the drug worked fine for that.  I'd take one occassionally when I'd start to feel sleepy in the afternoon and had something to do, and I'd wake up enough to do whatever it was.   Now I take two and sleep for four more hours.  I'm not even taking pain medicine right now, I'm too tired, too often sleeping.  I should be going through withdrawal, yes?  I've been on pain meds for three years.   If so, I'm just sleeping through it.   This is fatigue unlike any I have ever experienced and it's now lasted two weeks.  I've slept for two weeks pretty much straight.   It's time to confess. Because, what if I don't recover?  What if this is it?  What if my life is like this now and won't get any better?

It's not funny.  I'm pissed.  I have things to do.  The holidays are coming.  A grandbaby is coming. I have accepted, quite gracefully I might add, that my life is going to be cut short.  But I wasn't planning to sleep what's left of it away.  I figured I'd get sick, the cancer would grow, overwhelm my body, I'd have hospice in, and then turn up the morphine.  Bye.  There was nothing in any book I read that said I had to sleep 18 hour days for weeks first.

Supposedly, the cancer in my body is quiet so I don't know why this is happening.  I suppose it could be a form of anemia.  My red cell count is about 11 which is good for me, normal is about 12.  My doctor does a transfusion when I get down to 8.   But maybe there is a form I don't know about, or maybe something else is going on in my blood.  I don't see him until December, however and even then, what if nothing unusual shows up?   And I'm still like this?

Fatigue is common in cancer patients, I read, due to treatments, cell death, etc.  But I have been doing this for four years, there is nothing new. I've been fatigued.  This  is a whole new level of weakness and fatigue and I'm nervous that it won't improve.

When they say cancer is like riding a rollercoaster, they aren't kidding.  At the end of July, still on Gemzar,  I was able to drive to Carson City to see my sick father (and get a speeding ticket) and, while very tired, arrange for his care.  In early August, I had gamma knife type radiation and fatigue was one of the side effects, but it was nothing like this.  By September and October, off Gemzar, I was feeling so good I was planning for spring, imagining college trips, my son's graduation, little doubt that I'd be there. I'd bought myself enough time with the radiation and perjeta, I figured.   Now, I can't get to my front door.  Now, I can't even stay awake. I can't remember what I've done or said I'd do, and confusion reigns.

All I know is my bed is there with me and my cat in it.   My confused husband every once in a while peeks in, to see if I'm breathing, and then leaves.

I just hope this rollercoaster goes on the upswing again.  Because, I'd be really mad if I wasn't so damn exhausted.

Now I'm going back to sleep.




If you paid for a pendant and want your money back, I'm happy to refund you, just email me.  A few are made but haven't been shipped because I got confused so I will do that ASAP.   I still have a folder of orders that I am hoping I can complete as I enjoy doing them very much.  I keep hoping that I will will get back to normal.  Maybe tomorrow I'll wake up and stay awake.  But I don't know that I will, it's starting to make me very, very nervous that I might have to sleep until the sleep is permanent.








Thursday, October 24, 2013

2013's Most Disgusting Pink Fundraiser



The worst part about October is that I am always having to defend myself.  "No really," I insist. "I do have a sense of humor."  Or, "No, I'm not a radical feminist; I'm not a feminist at all."  Worse, "Yes, of course I want a cure for cancer."

It seems when you disagree with the concept of the pink ribbon being used to sell product under the guise of supporting breast cancer patients, you are labeled as one who doesn't support "the cause."   But when the items in question are pink vibrators or breast-focused pornography and you object, than not only are you pro-breast cancer, but you are also an old-fashioned, unfunny prude who is pro-breast cancer.    You are a veritable Jane Hathaway of a human being, humorless, sexless, and clueless.

The fact that you, indeed, have cancer yourself, even that you are going to die from it, doesn't seem to change opinions.

They get it, and you don't.

For those of you who land on this page by some search term I can only imagine, all the defense I'm going to give myself  is to remind you that reading more than one page of this blog will tell you whether I have a sense of humor or not.  It's pretty simple to do, and I bet you don't have to read too much to figure that out.  But if you don't want to take the time, just trust me:  I'm hi-fricking-larious.

Just not usually in October.

Every year, I highlight one group or person for worst Pinktober fundraiser of the year.   2013 was the tightest race ever, with the Ironman guy and his breast size-related donation levels;  the sale of the Pink Vibrators for Komen; the "set the TaTa's free" day (encouraging women to go braless for the cure - on Metastatic Cancer Awareness Day no less), and the video in which women walked around laying their breasts on counters while clueless people stared in wonder, to raise "awareness".  (One would presume that's all they meant to raise.)

But the winner became very clear as soon as I saw this and I don't believe I need to wait until the end of the month to make my announcement.   Motorboating for Breast Cancer


If you can't see the video above, try this link.

Last year, my choice was PornHub's Donation to Komen.  That was bad, but they are pornographers and how much can we expect?  Sure, they wanted in on the action, who doesn't?   They are not in the business of caring, and while I do believe pornography exploits women and harms relationships, the women involved in making it have had time to consider what they are doing.  Those who create it - we always knew they were trying to sell product and point attention to certain videos and weren't really about helping cancer, right?   The most disgusting part was that Komen took the money, and while they did eventually change their minds - it was eventually, weeks,  and took many, many emails from outraged supporters. They didn't have the moral compass to do it on their own, and they still don't.

This year, the motorboating "campaign" not only supposes to help cancer patients, but also exploits healthy young women.  The above "men" (and no, I cannot say that word without quotation marks as there is not a chance on earth real men would do this) are putting these young women in a no-win situation.  Do they help the cause of breast cancer by allowing themselves to be sexually used, or do they say no and risk the possibility of looking foolish?

"Miss Hathaway, these women were adults and knew what they were doing."

Ask yourself this: do you think any of those women would have said yes to being motorboated without the lure of a charity donation?  Did they have time to do any research or find out what was really going on?  A group of men walked up to them on the beach or in front of a club, a camera was pointed in their direction,  and the question was asked.  Did they know how it would be used or how they would appear?  How much time were they given, what kind of pressure was there, what would happen if they said no?

"Do you want to save women with cancer? All you have to do is let me motorboat you for a couple seconds. and we'll give $20.00 for cancer research," the boys ask, seemingly to only beautiful girls, a camera pointing straight at them,   "Well....sure" these women say, because you know, who doesn't want to help cancer and how does somebody say no and risk looking insensitive with a camera focused on her?     I'm sure some of our more confident sisters did turn them down,  despite the knowledge that they were being filmed and their refusal could also be used online to make them look like, erm, well, Jane Hathaway.   But truthfully, most of us aren't that confident early on in our lives, we tend to be trusting, and I can imagine being young, confused, and having said yes to this request myself, because I would want to help cancer.  Mostly, I might have said yes because it was easier than what I imagined the consequences of saying no would be in today's video age.

As these boys put their hands on the sides of these women's breasts and push their faces in to their cleavage and make "raspberry" noises, as children are wont to do, you can see the conflict on the faces of the women.  Their body language also tells a story.  They almost universally back up.  Many scrunch their faces in disgust or they look at the camera as if hoping for approval. A few frown.  Many giggle at the tickling but their hands tell a different story - they reach up to push the boys off as they step back, or they keep their hands up, fists closed, protectively holding their shirts as if they could close them.  Many turn away and one even takes a pull on a flask. Only one or two seem to really not mind, throwing their head backs in abandon - a stark contrast to the majority who seem universally uncomfortable.

The difference in  motivation is highlighted when the boys make jokes about the size of the women's breasts. "That wasn't a motorboat, it was a yacht!" said to raucous laughter, while a women sighs in resignation,  "Well, that was my good deed for the day."

"Oh but Miss Hathaway, they raised $7,000 for charity!  And, the charity refused the money.  It's women like you who is going to cause cancer to continue."

I must congratulate the Breast Cancer Research Foundation for refusing the money, and they did it before there was any major outcry, or certainly, before I'd heard of it - but really, their refusal is no surprise.  Like these women, they were put in a no-win spot.  Take money that trivializes disease and makes it about boobs, or refuse research funding.  Really, there was no choice.  They simply stated that the way this money was collected was not in line with their ideals, which by the way, it is not.  There is no chance that they ever would have accepted money gained in this manner, and anybody who has paid even the slightest amount of attention to breast cancer charities and how they operate would know that.

Of course, these online marketeers/motorboaters (they had a promo company help them with the video, by the way) had no clue about this, did they?  They feign surprised that their money would be refused, yet it's almost like they KNEW the money would be refused, and that publicity would surround them based on that.

Why, how DARE a breast cancer charity not take money from people who demean and sexualize women or which trivialize the disease.  Why not take their money from guys who collected it by sticking their faces in women's cleavage.  Hey, lament the guys, we were just trying to help.   The boy's statement about the refusal was both whining and designed to turn up the heat.
"It's obvious that they had to do this because they were getting pressured by a small minority of haters who thought that this video was 'offensive.    So congratulations, haters. Breast cancer research literally just lost $7,000 because of your personal problems with this video." 

So it is we "haters" who are causing breast cancer deaths to continue in spite of the heroic efforts of these boys.  Never mind that the "haters" are pretty much all breast cancer patients themselves, ones who are sick of watching our fatal disease be turned into a sexualized, trivialized, pink boob-fest every October.  Never mind that I, a hater, am dying of this disease and wants a cure more than they can imagine.  Never mind that $7,000 is a drop in the bucket compared to the multi-millions collected in October.  We haters, we Miss Hathaways, we pulled those white horses right out from under those boys' butts and single-handedly set breast cancer research back decades.

How dare we.

It's possible, of course, these boys got exactly what they wanted.  They did a video that went viral, they got to sexually harass women in the process,  but because it's for "cancer,"  anybody who objects gets to be called a prude, making themselves in the right.  They picked a charity that couldn't take the money in good conscience in order to create a fake controversy, which of course, causes the video to continue to be played. Now they are making all sorts of money on this and other videos on their channel with no obligation to give any of it away since the cancer charity they picked - suspecting it would refuse - refused.  They are the underdogs, the helpful heroes, now insulted, refused, rejected.

Dude.  Score.

I've said it before and I'll say it again:  Males finding young, hot girls and "motorboating" them, or guys jerking off to boob porn, women laying their boobs on tables, shirts that say, "Save Second Base" all purportedly For The Cause - it all minimizes and trivializes a disease that we, your sisters, moms, wives and hey sometimes your brothers, suffer from tremendously.  And die from.    

Why are other cancers not trivialized this way?  You don't see Get Some Pussy for Cervical Cancer Research, or Rim Shots for Colon Cancer or  Make-out for Myeloma,  Teabagging for Testicles.   Why not?  Is that beyond the bounds of good taste, but this is not?  Could it be that people understand that folks actually suffer and die from those cancers?  And too much awareness has left breast cancer not about death and disease - but {giggle} boobs?

You know the most common thing people say to me?  "At least you have the kind of cancer people don't die from anymore."  That's what all these pink jokes do, these facebook games, and slogans like "save the tatas."  People have forgotten there is a real disease behind the pretty ribbon, one that doesn't only take breasts, which is mostly only important to the boys in that video.  What is really important is that it takes lives.  It could kill your wife, your mother, your little sister - it will kill me.  Breast Cancer has become a joke, a way for somebody to get themselves noticed in October, to sell their product or get their video to go viral - to get their piece of the pink pie.  Just slap a  pink ribbon on it, promise a little to charity and hey, you can get rich. And, if it hurts the feelings of a dying Jane Hathaway, well, who cares?  She clearly doesn't get it.  How can she?  She spends too much time in the hospital to know what's going on in the real world.

We see through you, you immature boys.  You use the pain and suffering of women, real women, like me, to get your heads where you wanted them and your pockets filled, and when we object, you call us names, because you are the heroes, not us.    I hope you enjoy whatever fame you have received and whatever momentary excitement you got from making this video.  I know you are not worried about the tens of thousands of cancer victims whose pain and suffering you have trivialized, I know you don't even understand that.  I hope sincerely that it never becomes real to you - that it is not someday your wife, or your mom, or your sister who is eventually in my place, planning her funeral, hoping against hope to live to see her child go to college, living with the knowledge that the end is near.   I hope you don't have to watch somebody you love die a slow and painful death, while everybody in society around you uses the symbols of their suffering and disease as a way to make a buck.

I hope that you never have to become men.


Peace,

Miss Hathaway.




Sunday, October 20, 2013

Reddit - AMA

I've decided to do an AMA at Reddit.  This will not only give people a chance to talk to me about what it's like to live with end-stage cancer, but it will also give me insight into what other people are interested in, and may help direct this blog some.  Might also be a chance for me to educate folks on pink.

Because Reddit wants proof that you are who you say you are, this blog post will be that proof.

Here is the link:  http://redd.it/1ov8li

Ask me anything!  :)