Such a wonderful thing we’re doing; so kind of us to offer our support. To symbolize our awareness, to show we care.
Most survivors, or those who are working to become survivors, are touched by this show of solidarity. Surely everyone who has been affected on a personal level must be thrilled by our efforts. They must get some kind of strength from this sea of pink.
Surely they must.
I listened as someone who survived told me how the sea of pink makes them feel. They hate it. They want to forget the trauma of surgery, chemo and more surgery. They can’t forget. They have scars and nightmares as reminders. In an effort to think of something else, anything else, sometimes they get lost in a sporting event or a movie. Sometimes they seek solace in a silly TV sitcom. But the reminders are there. The teams are wearing pink; everyone is wearing pink clothing, pink ribbons, pink bracelets. There seems to be nowhere to go where they can, however briefly, forget their illness. People think they are being kind. The intentions are good. But they never bother to ask, “Do you want to talk about it?” “ How does this make you feel?”
Sometimes we assume we know.