Be kind; for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. —— Plato
Yesterday I ran into a woman I know casually. We exchanged hellos briefly and she asked how I was. “Great”, I said, the way you do in polite conversation. I asked how she was, also the way you’re supposed to do. She didn’t say “fine”, or any of the polite answers you usually get from one of these encounters with someone you barely know.
“Not so well.” she said.
Now I looked at her the way you don’t usually look at people you run into on the street.
She was smiling bravely, a little ruefully. But it’s in the eyes. Behind the eyes. In them I could see something I knew well, something in her soul that she couldn’t mask with her smile: the fear.
“I have breast cancer”, she said. And suddenly the pain poured out.
The specifics of her situation aren’t pertinent. But they matter —-to her, to everyone she loves, to everyone who loves her—- because her life is in the process of being turned upside down. She’s embarking on a journey that literally is changing the ground under her feet. She will never walk on the same path she walked before.
The good news: she’s not walking alone.
There are support groups and foundations and and blogs and organizations and action groups and people who are there to help her every step of the way.
The bad news: also that she’s not walking alone.
Every day more women find themselves in her shoes, facing the same diagnosis; every day more women are ripping apart their lives—and every day, more women are losing them.
Probably I hear these stories more often than most people. And each time I’m struck with the fact that breast cancer has reached epidemic proportions.
I used to think it just seems that way because I’m a survivor and I’m so involved. Unfortunately I’m not imagining it.
30 years ago, way before my own diagnosis, I did a television documentary on breast cancer. At the time, one in 12 women would get breast cancer in her lifetime.
Today that number is one in 8.
In 1975, a 50 year old white woman had a 1% chance to get breast cancer.
Today, for the same woman, the chance is 12%.
Those numbers are shocking—–and clear. And can’t be explained solely by early detection.
Scientists believe they are finding the explanation in some unusual places. Such as—-the kitchen. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend this column by Nicholas Kristof of the New York Times.
A hint—it’s not about the food. But it’s definitely food for thought.
other blog entries from »
Being a survivor and living in Oregon with the second highest rate of Breast Cancer, next to our neighbor north, Washingtom, I look at causes and trends. Different people respond to a diagnosis like the woman you met. I acted similar with leaving on voice mail to friends that Ihad cancer.
Little steps can be made for prevention like not using plastic to heat up foods in your microwave, or eating those frozen meals that are in palstic and prepared in the microwave.In fact I am against plastic!
The dangers of plastics are the subject of that article I recommended by Nicholas Kristof. This is something I first learned about years ago when I was diagnosed, at the time it was a wacky idea when I stopped used saran wrap in the microwave. Now it’s penetrated into mainstream medicine—I’m sure this will be a story similar to pesticides etc. and there’s no question that environmental causes are behind many cancers.
Darryle, thank you for the thought from Plato. I think it’s a beautiful piece of wisdom for all of us to bear in mind. If we look around at the brave expressions we see day in and day out, it’s easy to think we’re the only ones with problems. Not so. Pain is a constant in human affairs, and reaching out in kindness is an antidote. One heartfelt smile at a time, that’s what it takes.
DarryleP,
Thank you for this post. It have shown the most compassionated hearts of many of the Vibrant Nation’s posters. I love your subject; “Be kind; for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle” It reminds me of what happened back in October of this year. I was being admitted to the hospital for just a one day, in and out procedural. As I was walking with my son down the hallway, towards the outpatient department and was quite nervous about being put to sleep and was all wrapped up thinking about myself.
I was almost to the check-in desk, when I looked back and saw a woman walking behind me, holding her stomach and crying. At that moment, I forgot about myself and turned to this lady and asked if she was ok? She was alone and said through her tears, no I am not alright, I have cancer and she began to cry harder. I told her how sorry I was and asked if I could give her a hug? She responded it was ok. We hugged for 15-20 seconds. She put her head on my shoulder and continued crying.
At that moment, I didn’t really want to go forwards with my own surgery. I wanted to be with that lady, because she was alone. I did ask her why she was alone? She said, that she had not told anyone about the cancer or the surgery and that her family didn’t live in the area. At that point, the medical staff came forwards and asked if they could help us? I allowed her to sign in ahead of myself and they took her away, to a private room. I didn’t have a chance to get her name, but today 2 1/2 months later, I can still see her face and my own heart flutters, when I think about the pain she was suffering and no one there for her.
Our Federal Government have made things so bad regarding privacy issues; the hospital would not have been able to give me her name or any information about how she was doing. I can only pray that she was ok after surgery, back on October 8th. What I am saying is that, I agree with you about treating people with kindness. It do not hurt and can help lots of people; just one act of kindness can go a long ways in helping someone through a day, a week, a month or even a year. Thanks for this posting.