Dysfunction Junction Blog

I thought this information was worthy of a post on the Dysfunction Junction Blog.

It’s that pink time of year where billion of dollars are made promoting pink products. Since my diagnosis of breast cancer 12 years ago, nothing much has changed. There is supposedly a “race for the cure”. The real question is how can they talk about a cure when they don’t understand enough about what it is they’re curing.

There are no new preventative treatments and the things that we can take as a support to our immune system during treatment are still seldom offered as part of the protocol.  The big three standards of surgery, radiation, and/or chemotherapy are followed.  Tamoxifen may also be a part of the treatment series and typically prescribed post surgery for those with estrogen-positive cancer.   The concern is not so much about should these drugs/treatments be used but whether they should be the only option. Yearly, there are billions of dollars being donated.  Where are the results of the studies for the origin, prevention, and safer treatments of cancer? By the time we get to a “cure”, it is often too late, and/or the person has a recurrence that is this time deemed incurable.  (This question is not exclusive to breast cancer) Let’s follow a tiny bit of the science.

Astra-Zeneca is the manufacturer of Tamoxifen.  Tamoxifen is an estrogen modulator.  Many breast cancers are estrogen positive (high in estrogen) and an estrogen modulator is given to block the receptor cells for estrogen in the breast which, in a sense redirects it to the uterus. That is a blog post in itself.

Tamoxifen was originally created as a contraceptive pill.  Because of its interaction with estrogen, they eventually found it could not be used as intended.  Well, perhaps it’s not all a loss.  Studies continued and they found a new use for the drug.  Tamoxifen was repurposed as one of the key treatment options for not only reducing the likelihood of recurrence of breast cancer but also given to some women as a preventative.

Here’s where it gets interesting, sad, and infuriating.  Astra-Zeneca is also responsible for Syngenta who makes the herbicide, atrazine.  Guess what atrazine does? It’s used in pesticides for weed control.  Atrazine is an estrogenic.  Sound familiar?  It contributes to the cancer that Tamoxifen is supposed to treat.  It has been banned in Europe for this reason.   It is the most commonly detected pesticide contaminating US drinking water.

I realize the drug companies are huge and they manufacture so many varied products with some good and some bad.  I also know that removing this one pesticide will not eradicate cancer, but it could be a start. This is just one example of how a billion dollar corporation contributes to creating the dis-ease they are also receiving money to treat.  If this continues, we’ll be running this race for a very long time.

The recent onslaught of sexual harassment accusations brought up some not so fond memories of my own.  Much of my career has been in a male-dominated workplace.  I wish that didn’t equate to my being harassed, but it did.  Some may not have intended it as such, but is it ever?  One of my first experiences was when I was 18 years old.

I worked at Edwards Air Force Base as a clerk-stenographer.  I was working for a year after high school before heading off to college.  My boss was Senior Master Sergeant Raymond Miller.  I was a young, woman (a virgin by the way) who found myself working with a man who spent his time hitting on me. I’m not sure of his age, but he definitely fit into my father’s age bracket.

He called me, “Sweet Pea.”. There’s a lot of respect in that reference – NOT.  He would ask me to come into his office so he could watch me walk in and walk out.  How do I know?  He told me.  He would also tell the men who came to his office for briefings and meetings.  He would say, “Sweet Pea, come in her for a minute.” I would hate walking in there.  He would pat the side of his chair and ask me to sit down.  I wouldn’t.  I would blush with an awkward laugh and walk back out.  He would then tell the men in the office, “look at her…look at those legs”.

He would stand in the doorway of his office and watch me or ask me to go get something so he could watch me walk away.  This was when women (although I truly was a girl) had to wear dresses.  Mine were appropriate but probably shorter than women his age were wearing.

One day, another Chief Master Sergeant (I have misplaced/buried his name) was waiting by my desk before he went in to see Sergeant Miller.  We were chatting (he was and I was being respectful) and Sergeant Miller asked him what he was doing.  His reply?  His reply was, “I’m getting ready to make love to this sweet young thing”.

I’m a VIRGIN.  His saying that horrified me.  I’m sure I turned 10 shades of red as I sat there dumbfounded.  What he said was beyond inappropriate and disrespectful.  I had no clue what to do.  There was no way I could/would tell my parents.  I did tell my boyfriend who wanted to go after the sergeant who outranked him by many levels.

Why ddin’t I say something?  Why don’t women speak up at the time?  I can speak for myself.  I was a kid.  My first real job after high school before I headed off to bible college.  I knew there was an end in sight.  I also felt helpless and like this is what you have to put up with when working with men.  Don’t make a big deal out if.  It’s not like anyone actually physically touched me. Oh, the voices in my head.

It’s wrong.  It should not ever be tolerated.  I hope my nieces and grand nieces and my friends’ daughters will grow up being taught to stand up for themselves and to speak up when what is being said feels like harassment.  If it feels like harassment, it’s harassment.

I can’t think of anything more worthy of a post (or trip) to  dysfunction junction than our medical system – especially as it relates to cancer.  It’s Pinktober again.  While I completely understand and appreciate the joining together for a cause, breast cancer is not a celebration nor is it going to go away because of everyone supposedly supporting the “fight.” I do believe I experience a bit of post-traumatic stress in October because of everyone bringing “awareness” to breast cancer.  Join me for a walk down memory lane. . .

Prior to my having surgery,  it was automatic that I schedule an appointment with radiology and oncology.  Seriously; I’m going over the plan of action with the surgeon still in disbelief about what I’m doing and I’m told they will be scheduling my appointment with a radiologist and oncologist. Oncologist means one thing.  Cancer.  May I take a moment to let that settle in?  I asked to wait as I didn’t know what I would do post surgery.  I was strongly encouraged to schedule the appointments and to at least meet with them.  I refer to this process as the conveyer belt of treatment.

I let them schedule the appointments, and word got out that I wasn’t planning on doing either of the recommended treatments.  First appointmet – radiology.  Just a few days post surgery I enter the office of the head of radiology.  The nurse greats me with a big smile and asks, “do you have a will?”  I’m sure my face went white as I said, “no, uh, do you know something I don’t?”  She said this was her standard question to everyone because it’s good to be prepared.  I understand the truth in that, but since I was a little raw in that moment, couldn’t they send me home with some information to read? I really wish someone had been there to videotape my entire visit as most of this will sound unbelievable.  It’s all true.

In walks a nice looking man obviously in the position of authority.  After the basics, he smirks and says, “I understand you don’t want to have radiation therapy – why?” I said it was counter-intuitive. His expression was priceless.  In spite of still being in a daze with all that was happening, I held my ground and explained that I didn’t understand killling healthy cells because there might be some unhealthy ones.  I won’t go into the full extent of the conversation, but I will share that when he told me they were able to pinpoint extremely accurately the site of the tumor (I felt the need to remind him the tumor had been removed with clear margins). I asked  if he could guarantee there would be no subsequent damage to my ribs, lungs, and heart.  I also asked if it was now so safe, would he please stay in the room with me while I received the treatment. I wonder if he remembers me like I remember him.

I also said I might choose to do it later after I knew more of what was happening with my body.  He said it didn’t work that way.  What way?  I commit to it now while I’m weak and vulnerable?  Commit to it now because you can scare me into making a decision that isn’t necessary for me to make at that exact moment?  Where’s the empathy and willingness to listen? He did leave me with some kind, thoughtful, first-do-no-harm wisdom; “this could kill you.”  I did manage to say, “and so could a bus.”  (“I’m rubber, you’re glue; everything you say bounces off me and sticks to you” came to mind more than once).

I wasn’t angry or snappy but completely bewildered. He did everything he could to persuade me, and I graciously thanked him for his input and time.  I didn’t feel brave making this decision.  I was honoring what I knew was right for me, and that, unfortunately, is quite often, the road less traveled. It didn’t come easy but with a lot of prayer, research, and tears. It’s also not a judgement against anyone elses choice.  It was my choice.

When I see all the pink promotion, that’s one of the stories I remember.  It’s not pretty and pink.  It’s not a fight I wish on anyone.  I’m so blessed to be healthy and to know I can trust my God-sourced intuition.  All I ask – “think before you pink.”

—My heart goes out to the many women with high-stage cancer as there are limited treatment options available. With all the money being donated, this fight should be won–

Most think of the big promotion in October as Halloween – well, brace yourself as all things pink appear.  There will be a massive pink washing as breast cancer awareness month begins.  I am a survivor.  I don’t make light of that for a nanosecond.  However, I have much to say about the consumerism that surrounds me and my fellow survivors.  There isn’t a month-long marketing campaign for other cancers.  Why this one?  Think about it.  There’s big money in supporting a cause that involves women and shopping.

I live down the street from the Ford dealership.  Soon, their car lot will be decorated in pink balloons (lots of them) and a large sign promoting breast cancer…awareness.  I guess I could just drive by, honk, and wave as I graciously thank them for their support.  I may be wrong here and making a wild assumption – but, couldn’t they just donate funds privately?  Use the money spent on marketing and decor to help women in need during treatment.  Just a thought.

Last year, while in Bed, Bath, and Beyond, I was mesmerized as I saw brooms, mops, irons, and miscellaneous other household items being sold in pink.  If you like pink, go for it.  However, if you purchase said goods with the idea you are helping “the cause”; on the generous side, 1% of that goes toward said cause.  The money spent on production and marketing could be used much more effectively without the waste of manufacturing stuff that will end up in storage-land until next Pinktober.

I know many are well-intentioned.  People feel good contributing.  We should contribute.  I’m not a Debbie-downer – just aware of billions of dollars that are donated for a so-called awareness while there is little talk of prevention or cures that are less damaging to the healthy cells of our body.  I have an idea.  How about using the money toward a movement to end the practice of fracking.  Here’s another one…ending the use of so many toxic pesticides from which all cancers flow.  There’s no limit to much needed and necessary causes.

I find it difficult to join in the “fight for a cure.”  Sorry.  I’m not sure what that means.  Fight?  That’s the word we use?  The only thing that should be fighting is our immune system.  You won’t (yet) find it at Bed, Bath, and Beyond; but, did you know you can even buy a pink handgun?  Must be for all this fighting.

This is a bit of a rant. Okay, a complete rant.  One I feel compelled to share as I encourage everyone to “think before you pink.”

If you are so moved, please watch the movie, “Pink Ribbons”.  Excellent and informative.  Also, if you want to support and follow an amazing group of women, check out Breast Cancer Action here:  http://www.bcaction.org/

If you think about it, we, as the audience and consumer, decide what is acceptable behavior from a teenage celebrity.  If a politician does something we disagree with, they are snubbed, and/or voted out of office or lose their chances at re-election.  What happens to a kid that is way overpaid and acts out in a way no one finds acceptable (except maybe a like-minded kid) – more fame and money. I have an idea…let’s train the up and coming teenage celebrity like we would a dog.

A favorite approach while training a dog is to reward a desired behavior the second it occurs.  The positive behavior may be anchored with a treat, verbal praise such as “good dog”, and/or a vibrant “yes” as they are rewarded.  This works well for most dogs.

Old school training focused more on the correction aspect of the behavior.  The undesired behavior or lack of a response to our command, and the dog was corrected.  It worked but most found the positive training approach easier on the human and the dog and they still obtained the desired result.

Let’s practice a similar approach to training humans. What if everyone  ignored the unwanted behavior of celebrities/musicians and only rewarded the desired behavior or what we are actually paying them to do?  Imagine the surprise of a young musician like Justin B. when they disappear from the limelight while acting out.  We would merely be ignoring the poor behavior in anticipation of a positive experience for them when they do good. As it is now, the worse the behavior, the more they are noticed which serves to get them more attention thus rewarding the behavior and encouraging more of the same.  Any dog knows this.

It seems we have things backwards.  The more outrageous someone is, the more attention they receive.  I know that’s how it is and has been.  I know the more severe a behavior and the more destructive a movie, the higher the sales.  For those of you thinking it’s all no big deal and want to tell me to just turn off my TV, I will and do.  That won’t stop me from being amazed and disappointed that so many are willing to   promote (with money and lots of it) such annoying, unacceptable behavior.

I can’t tell you a single song that Justin sings, but I know he egged his neighbors house and has a drugs/alcohol problem.  Why is that glorified?  I may be a minority – no, I know I’m a minority, but I don’t care what an actor or musician does other than the expectation that if they are in the public eye, they act like we’re paying them for good behavior.  Quite the opposite is true, and our society is at fault.

I know I will be waiting alone and for a very long time before I give up a, “good boy” to Mr. B.  For now, I’ll stick with training dogs.

or is it?  I have been asked on occasion how much Massage Therapists get paid now that the cost of a spa treatment is typically around $130-150.  Some places, it is as high as $190 for a 60-minute session.  There are the Massage Envy and Element centers, and that’s a whole different story.

Most high-end spas hire therapists as part-time employees.  Sounds okay so far.  Here’s how that looks – the therapist is expected to be on the schedule for five days a week, eight hours a day.  Part-time you say?  The reason it qualifies as part-time is the therapist will not be working that entire time.  At one spa where I work, I call in the night before to see if I have any appointments the following day.  The next morning or afternoon (depending on the shift), I call in again to see if an appointment has been booked.  I am then required to call in every hour (at least three times) to see if I need to come in to work. If I don’t have an appointment the entire shift, the front desk will say, “enjoy your day off.”  What?  I don’t want a day off, I want to work.

There is a great possibility for those covering a long shift they will have an appointment in the morning and then another one six hours later.  They are expected to leave so as not to be on the clock if they aren’t busy.  Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?  Yet. . .”we” therapists let it happen.  This is why unions were born.

I’d like to ask everyone to boycott spas and to see Massage Therapists in their home or yours.  However, yours truly would be wishing I hadn’t suggested this if it were to happen.  We are paid fairly for the hour(s) we work, but I’ve yet to meet a self-supporting Massage Therapist locally that doesn’t work two or more places and or other jobs to make ends meet. (I can’t be disappointed by this aspect of it, as I prefer a variety of work).

As an independent contractor for a spa, there is the opportunity to set your own schedule and are usually compensated somewhere between $40-60 per 50 or 60 minute session.  As an employee, the pay is typically $8/hour + 18-20% commission + 18% gratuity.  Sounds great!  And, it is when you are working.  The hotels’ financial advisers got smart when deciding to automatically add the gratuity.  The guest is told it can be changed if they like, as it can’t be mandatory.  Most agree to it.  All in all, that provides more money for the hotel and offsets the therapists’ pay.  I get it – it is a business after all.

I LOVE being a Massage Therapist.  I have made some of my best friends through it and because of it.  Learning about the body, health, wellness and spirituality and how it is all inter-connected will be a forever passion and never grow old – uh, even though, with any luck, I will!  On behalf of the therapists I know personally, I do need to add that once in the room with you, we are there for you and because of you.

I am, however, saddened by the business-side of being a therapist. It has boiled down to everyone in the back room talking about how many appointments they have or don’t have and how a massage equates to a dollar amount.  Why aren’t we in the back room talking about new approaches, techniques, or how happy we are that we make a living doing what we love or even how much fun we’re having outside of work rather than hurrying to our next job?

I guess it sounds like I’m complaining.  Maybe I am – a little.  Thanks for allowing me to rant a bit. Ultimately, it’s up to me to accept this new way of the business of being a therapist.  As a spa director told me, “the old business model is no longer practiced.”

If you are wondering how I have the time to write a post like this. . .I’m on-call.

Those who know me have most likely heard me speak about my concern and the “bad” feeling I get when surrounded by all things pink.  You know…the pink skillets, toasters, and even hand guns!

This Sunday is the Susan G. Komen race for the cure in Seattle.  I have participated in the past, as I am a 2-year breast cancer survivor.  (Dang.  It still grabs me when I say it.)  I will not be participating this year.  I know my lack of enthusiasm for the event seems a little odd even to me.  I feel like I’m betraying the sisterhood.

I have come to realize I want a celebratory parade because fewer women are dying from breast cancer.  A huge party and race for fun because fewer women are diagnosed with breast cancer. I am all in for a celebration of life and to be surrounded by so many amazing women moves me to tears.  I am moved to tears for a different reason when I think of all the money that is donated and yet there has been very little improvement for the detection and treatment of breast cancer.  Detecting cancer early is not preventing it. There needs to be more of a focus on prevention.  There needs to be options for less invasive treatment.

Following my diagnosis, I found little support with any thinking outside of the standard treatment protocol.  It’s as though I was immediately placed on the treatment-for-breast-cancer conveyer belt.  I could barely wrap my brain around the concept of my having cancer and now I have to do what?  And when?  It needs to be acceptable to question cancer treatment.  Why aren’t there more treatment centers like the ones found in Europe?  Why?  Why? Why?  We should all be asking a lot of questions about where the billions of dollars that are donated each year are going.  What’s with all the companies getting in on the pink brigade to make a few cents off of cancer?  Please, think before you pink!  Give the money to one of the local charity organizations that disperses the funds into the community for support and care of women with cancer.

I am so grateful to all of you who have been with me through my questioning and have listened to my complaints, concerns, and sometimes rants.  I know its not always the best seat in the house.

He said, “I am not responsible for your happiness.”

She said, “I get that; but you are definitely responsible for my misery.”

I have been thinking about the analogy of American life in a product called “American Cheese.”

Here’s the Wikipedia definition:

American cheese is a common processed cheese. It is orange, yellow, or white in color and mild in flavor, with a medium-firm consistency, and melts easily. American cheese was originally only white, but can sometimes be modified to yellow in color. It has traditionally been made from a blend of cheeses, most often Colby and Cheddar. Today’s American cheese is generally no longer made from a blend of all-natural cheeses, but instead is manufactured from a set of ingredients^[1] such as milk, whey, milkfat, milk protein, and salt. It therefore does not meet the legal definition of cheese and must be labeled as “cheese product.”

As it is now, any processed cheese may be referred to as American Cheese.  It’s words like common and processed that should never go together.  Never mind that it no longer is actually cheese.

I know how easy and nice it must have been for Mothers like mine to find (not-real) cheese neatly wrapped.  How convenient!  Think of all that wasted time getting out the cutting board, knife or cheese cutter, and slicing cheese for a sandwich or snack.  Individually wrapped slices of (not-real) cheese ready to go!  It was convenient and affordable.  I’m sure the food manufacturers knew they were on to something – convenience was king.

Affordable and convenient…isn’t this what we Americans gravitate toward?  Affordable definitely is cool but why are we so busy that we can’t slice a piece of cheese (or apple or…?)  I own this one.  While I won’t eat American Cheese, I have stood looking in the refrigerator in a flash only to find blocks of cheese and thinking, “that will take too much time.”  TOO MUCH TIME?  I’m heading to the couch to watch something that will definitely take too much time, and I can’t stop to slice cheese?  Fortunately, I found some organic Mozzarella string cheese so I didn’t have to waste my precious time.

It’s not just about the cheese.  Take a look at all that is convenient and completely unnecessary as you walk the isles of your local market.  Someone eats this junk; and a lot of it!  Did we really trade convenience for health?  I think we did and do – by the pound!   We’ve trained our taste buds and body chemistry to want and need to consume processed products that aren’t to be found anywhere on the food pyramid.    Please don’t mention that we needn’t worry because the FDA is making certain that what is produced is considered healthy and good for us.

With layoffs and less work to consume us, maybe some will find it is more economical to buy foods that actually need someone to prepare them.   I’m not naive enough to think an economic downturn will convert non-cooks to cooks, but maybe we’ll have the time to look at things differently – one slice of a cheese at a time.

She said, “no babe, I don’t mind.  Go out with the guys.  Have some fun.  You deserve it. You work hard.  I’ll be fine.”

What She Thought. . .

She thought, “I can’t believe he’d go out with his friends when he could be home with me while I color my hair and do my nails.  He thinks he works hard.  He should try doing my job.  I’m a lot more fun than those guys.  What if he meets someone else?  I wonder when he’ll be back?  Should I wait up or play it cool and pretend I’m sleeping when he returns?  I’m calling Susan.  She won’t believe this.  He’s going to regret leaving me at home.”