She stood in the crowd, invisible in the sea of pink.
Though pink was her least favorite color, the past year had forced it on her, making her another woman caught up in the grip of a disease still incurable, still terrifying just in the contemplation of it. The color was a badge of recognition, awareness, celebration, and sadness. It was a testament to the complexity of the disease and the women who endured it.
Pink - the profound reminder of very woman’s nightmare: breast cancer.
Standing among the women who were within the various stages of their own journeys, she felt the weight of the previous year wash over her.
Her journey was different in so many ways. It had been easier in some ways. It had been harder in others. Still, her journey with breast cancer propelled her into communion with women of all ethnicities, beliefs, ideologies, and ages.
Now, she was not really in remission, but she was also not really fighting it; her journey with breast cancer continued to be a strange one. Thankfully, it had been found early, and was deemed an “easy” cancer. It had been removed relatively quickly. There seemed, at the time, to be no need for radiation or chemo. So after one surgery, she had healed just in time for another, a surgery much more invasive both in procedure and recovery.
Then, during the second surgery, more of the dreaded cancer cells were found, throwing uncertainty forward beyond recovery. Now, she had to reassess. She’d have to consider additional therapy.
That was for another day.
Today, she was thankful. Thankful for the program at the hospital that offered free mammograms, allowing for her early detection. She was grateful to represent herself as a beneficiary of that program.
There, among the mass of women she did not know, she realized she was not a statistic.
No, she was far more. She was a sister. A friend. A survivor. A supporter. A teacher.
She was added to the ranks of a sisterhood she’d never expected to be part of.
Though she knew none of the women around her, she didn’t feel alone. She felt empowered. She felt courageous.
She wore that pink with pride, and she marched ahead, with all the surrounding women in her heart and in her prayers.
For the first time in her life, she felt like a warrior. She was ready to fight.