The Republic of Pinkastan

The girl that I marry will have to be
As soft and pink as a nursery*

My friend Annie recently forwarded Barbara Ehrenreich's excellent article/rant, Welcome to Cancerland: A Mammogram Leads to a Cult of Pink Kitsch

I squirm at the mass-market girliness that masquerades as breast health care. After my diagnosis, my surgeon gave me a pink book (with roses!) titled "All About Breast Cancer." The pink thing is truly bizarre.
I associate the color with babies, and resent seeing my disease swaddled in it. The oncology center (and cancer in general) is unisex, so at least there I am spared the indignity of having my cancer branded like a dish soap.

Oh, yes...I start chemo on Tuesday. It's still feels like its happening to someone else. Tonight, I went to the Pitchfork Festival and listened to amazing performance by Sonic Youth. I looked around at all of the mostly younger faces, and honestly felt not a day over...well, 30. It is difficult to get my mind around the concept that I am very ill.

*From Annie Get Your Gun