[Andrea Barnett Budin]

There are no stupid questions. It is a sign of a curious mind. And that's a good thing, for all of us. I have my collection. A rhinestone bc ribbon pin, breast cancer stamp replica pin, a necklace w/healing stone dangling, necklace w/charms that say -- *believe*, *hope*, *strength*, a lilac touch stone that says *destiny* in metallic gold that I keep on my night table. I have not one but two huge pink bath towels w/elaborate bc ribbons designs, which do not go w/my color scheme but are appreciated and sit in a laundry basket in my laundry room on top of the dryer. All were given w/love, I know. All unused, but kept. Expressions of love, wishing to help but aware all they can do is offer their love.

The necklaces hang from my face towel hook and each time I use the towel and remove it, the necklaces clink and sway and I feel loved. I think of Myra (now in Heaven) and Carol (fighting lung ca for 3 yrs, surviving the chemo and enjoying Life more than ever before). My 11 yr old granddaughter gave me a silver large link bracelet w/pink leather wending its way throughout (kind of Chanely looking). It has a heart charm (I adore hearts!) that hangs at the toggle bolt closure. It says, We can make a difference. She gave one of these to her Mother, my daughter, as well, who is healthy and prayerfully will remain so. All thoughtful, caring gifts given w/love. I try to wear this bracelet whenever I see my Josie, b/c I appreciate her sweetness. Friends sent me myriad bks full of inspirational messages and beautiful cards and dozens of floral arrangements at the beginning, 100 yrs ago. They still often tell me with gusto that I'm their hero, amazed I have endured I suppose. It's been 12 yrs now.

When my husband and I go out, and jackets are required for men, he wears a suit and tie, a pocket silk in his breast pocket and a pink bc ribbon pin on his lapel. He does this proudly, and w/love, and it never fails to touch my heart.

I too do not want bc to define me, but my response to it seems to be received invariably as something to be admired. When it comes up, and it often seems to, I explain my situation, having had chemo and this or that lasting side effect, or that I am a bc survivor, pp look me in the eye, stop what they are doing and I can feel *vibes* of loving energy coming at me. They are elated to meet a person who has walked through fire and is here to tell about it. They all know someone who is fighting bc as it is a bloody epidemic. Strangers hug me, take my hand in both of theirs and say, God bless you. It was sooo nice to meet you. And I feel their warmth and generosity of Spirit and it lifts me up.

So no, I don't wear pink ribbons, but I am open to talking about my experience, for others to know some do survive. As our society is adverse to discussing death, even mentioning the deceased's name, uncomfortable about the very word cancer, whispering it... I have learned through bc to help others speak up at such moments begging for kindness. Often pp will say, I can't go to the hospital, to the house or make a phone call. They don't know what words to speak. I tell them how meaningful it was to me to receive cards that said, I just wanted you to know I am so sorry that you have to go through what you are faced with. You are in my thoughts and in my prayers. And they pounce on that and thank me for sharing. They seem to think, I can do that! I explain it makes a world of difference to the person receiving such sentiments.

I think we all owe it to the world, and in tribute to those who we have lost, to urge people who hide in other aisles in the supermarket to avoid facing you and others like that, to be kind and caring and express such feelings. I'm guessing many of us have had the friend we thought was a friend turn their backs on us when we were dx. They were afraid. They were ignorant. They didn't *get it*. So, I think, we need to help educate pp, when the opportunity arises, to evolve and help our culture learn to begin to teach how to deal w/such touchy topics with a more open-heartedness.
Andi