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| yes - the scar is the length of my middle finger; the original lesion was smaller than the nail on my pinkie! |
Midlife is when, I've decided, that you really don't give a shit about offending people and you do take a stand against bullshit in the world.
My own brush with a similar "game" was almost 25 years ago, when, as a terrified young adult, I had a superficial malignant (yes, malignant) spreading (yes, spreading) melanoma removed from my left shoulder. And then I had it removed again as it was indeed spreading. It was sudden and painful and not what I would call a game. I had no choice about playing, and my appearance on Team Skin Cancer has left me with a 2.5 inch raised scar plus a lifetime position on the bench, wondering if I'll be recalled.
Fucking wonderful game - I hope I never ever get called to play again.
So, this latest "game" doing the rounds on FB is yet another version of the vacuous breast cancer meme which is meant to encourage us to check our boobs regularly. Friends urge friends to post mysterious status updates in this marvellous smut- and gigglefest, to tantalise and confuse other readers (mainly the men, who, it must be admitted, do get breast cancer and do need to self examine in that region). A couple of years ago it was the-colour-of-your-bra game (yes, the one which caused so much outrage and hurt in the post-mastectomy community); last year, the ubersmutty "I like it on the table/floor/postman" final resting place for your purse dialogue.
This year I've been lucky enough to receive two invites to the game.
The first was to label myself as a fruit according to my relationship status - there was nothing, not even turnip, to describe the amount of relationship stress and confusion I was going through at the time, thank you. I did note that eventually widows got to play along with a fruit for bereavement (how tactful) but still no option for 'do I throw in the towel after 18 years?'.
The second one hit my mailbox last week with an enthusiastic "let's play the latest breast cancer game ..."
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| it's all behind me now :) |
So, this latest "game" doing the rounds on FB is yet another version of the vacuous breast cancer meme which is meant to encourage us to check our boobs regularly. Friends urge friends to post mysterious status updates in this marvellous smut- and gigglefest, to tantalise and confuse other readers (mainly the men, who, it must be admitted, do get breast cancer and do need to self examine in that region). A couple of years ago it was the-colour-of-your-bra game (yes, the one which caused so much outrage and hurt in the post-mastectomy community); last year, the ubersmutty "I like it on the table/floor/postman" final resting place for your purse dialogue.
This year I've been lucky enough to receive two invites to the game.
The first was to label myself as a fruit according to my relationship status - there was nothing, not even turnip, to describe the amount of relationship stress and confusion I was going through at the time, thank you. I did note that eventually widows got to play along with a fruit for bereavement (how tactful) but still no option for 'do I throw in the towel after 18 years?'.
The second one hit my mailbox last week with an enthusiastic "let's play the latest breast cancer game ..."
A.game.
What a great email that one must be to get on the evening of major cancer-related surgery.
And the latest humorous little gem is one which turns your status update into a pseudo-pregnancy announcement! Already, breast cancer patients are reporting that one coming on top of their own chemo-induced fertility tragedies. Again, tactful.
So - promoting breast health awareness is now making cancer into a game? or by titillation, sex and innuendo? Why not just ask your girlfriends to check their tits? Why not donate something, or take a meal round, or offer some childcare or, if you must, take part in Pinkwhitewash Marketing Month and buy a rose-coloured kitchen utensil?
Anything but coy, titillating, sexual, innuendo, ladies please!
Is this really what social media is all about, or do we really check in our intelligence at the Facebook login?
Beautiful fucking game indeed!
PS: Friends don't let friends take part in such mindless crap - stand up and say something about this crass waste of time and sensitivity. I promise you, it won't make you friends and it won't be popular, but please take a stand (and then go get your boobs fondled).
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| doing something practical about it all - self portrait and blogging about my mammogram "i like it on the radiography plate" |
