I hate pink.

I hate pink. This isn’t news to those who know me, I’ve always hated pink. I grew up in a room decorated by my sister when she was six years old. Pink and red shag carpet with Pepto-Bismol coated walls. It was Pinkalicious’s dream come true and enough to turn me against all things girly until 2004.


When our daughter was born I planned to dress her in yellow, purple, green or blue, with maybe a pair of lacy socks and a headband to make it clear she was a she. Anything but pink. The fact was Lucy really did look prettier in pink. As soon as she could make her opinion heard, it was clear that she loved pink as much as her aunt Shelly, so I’ve come to accept pink in my life and in some cases, even like it.
 
The pink things that irritate me almost as much as the Pepto-Bismol walls of my childhood are the ribbons. Pink ribbons are everywhere. Races are ran, Save 2nd Base t-shirts are sold and I can’t even buy toilet paper without the opportunity to support the pink ribbon cause. Breast cancer awareness and research funding is everywhere. I do admit that it’s great. Medical research, whatever its original intent, benefits us all and I have two marvelous Aunts who have conquered breast cancer and so many others are affected. Yes, I agree, we should all join the rally for the cause. Right now, though, the cancer that continually kicks my butt has nothing to do my ta-ta’s.


My husband has soft tissue sarcoma. Less than 1% of cancer diagnoses are sarcoma and of that 1%, 15% are childhood cancers. So my husband really is one in a million. And his rare cancer is becoming not so much of a rare occurrence in our lives. In our nearly 13 year marriage, he’s been through 8 surgeries, two regimens of radiation, two regimens of chemo and, most recently, one clinical trial. Last week we learned that the study drug was not a success for him. The small tumors he has have grown a bit so he is off the trial and will soon begin chemo regimen number three.

So the pink ribbons that are everywhere really annoy me.


There is so little attention on rare cancers because, well, they are rare. I get it. When just one in a million are affected, it takes that one to yell ‘HEY! I’m here too, ya know. Where’s my stinking ribbon?! Someone, please, find my cure!’


Honestly, Dane’s not crying out for a ribbon. I’m thankful for that. Mrs. 1 in a million really doesn’t have time to launch a campaign or the energy to search through the ridiculous amount of ribbon campaigns to find a suitable color still available. (Seriously, google it. There‘s a lot.) I am, however, feeling a push to share my thoughts and our story. Perhaps begin to raise my hand, let out a little ‘yoo-hoo, we’re here too.‘ Maybe even answer the ‘I don’t know how you do it’ I frequently hear. So I am starting here with this blog and my rather bratty, and certainly unpopular, declaration of I hate pink.