Okay, I know this is pink. I know this is supposed to be a writing blog and this isn't about writing. I know it looks dumb, but, hey...I'm talking about breasts here. Boobs. Jugs. Tatas. Other euph--I've forgotten how to spell that word--that are even less elegant. And I'm talking about breast cancer. You know, that nasty disease represented by that ribbon over there?
We've got some "experts" saying don't bother with mammograms, don't examine yourself. I'd venture to say most of them have not buried their mothers or sisters or daughters. Most of them don't know and celebrate the survivors the way those of us do who knew and loved women who didn't survive. Most of them--oh, hell, you know what I'm saying.
You're women, you know the risks, you know how to minimize those risks. Do it for your children, the partners who love you, but more than anything, do it for yourself. If you can't afford a mammogram, call your doctor, the local hospital, or even an urgent care facility--they'll tell you what to do!
My mother died September 5, 1982. I still miss her. She had breast cancer.
It's Breast Cancer Awareness month. Be aware. Just do it.