Felicia Mitchell, retired from college teaching, is a poet and writer who makes her home in southwestern Virginia. She is a survivor of stage 2b HER2-positive breast cancer diagnosed in 2010. Website: 

Felicia Mitchell

Felicia Mitchell is a survivor of stage 2b HER2-positive breast cancer diagnosed in 2010. Catch up on all of 

October went by in a blink of the eye, no pink. Well, almost no pink. I did pause at Kroger one afternoon to covet a dozen small pink roses, only 10 dollars, and imagined arranging them into two vases, one for me and one for a friend who is a breast cancer twin.

I even held the roses in my hands heartfully, just for a moment. They had come all the way from South America to my Appalachian town, perhaps not the best use of jet fuel, yet still so pretty. Perhaps not the best use of $10, either. I could spend that money on two cartons of power greens instead. Survivors need power greens more than roses.

I thus bought two cartons of power greens instead of a dozen pink roses, roses so beautiful that I almost went back and put them in my basket. Would it hurt to spend a little money to mark Pinktober? Would it hurt to share a little pink love with a dear friend? I had pretty much been ignoring Breast Cancer Awareness Month, which this year coincided with worries over cleaning up my yard, downed trees and roof after Hurricane Helene.

Instead, apologizing for ignoring October, I sent my dear friend a “gift” article from the 

. “This is such an uplifting story,” I told her. “She threw a ’70s-themed ‘cancerversary’ to dance in death’s face,” by Amber Ferguson and Drea Cornejo, is indeed a heartwarming story about the magnificent spirit of Deltra James, a woman who lives with metastatic breast cancer.

I also wanted to send everybody I know another story I read in the 

, a reprint of a classic column by Marjorie Williams, “The Halloween of My Dreams.” About a tender moment with her daughter and her last Halloween before dying of liver cancer, this essay is so poignant that it makes me cry. Not everybody has my interest in cancer heroes though.

Another thing I did in October was collect coats to donate to local flood victims. One was in fact a bright pink. I bought because it was the sale color and not because I am a survivor of breast cancer (survivors can be frugal, saving not just for a rainy day or pink roses but for more treatment down the line). I like to imagine that a breast cancer survivor picked this coat.

I do love pink. But October? It is a hard month, and all the pink reminds me of that. It is not only the month I learned the full extent of my cancer after a mastectomy but also the month my mother was diagnosed with her first (not last) breast cancer. For decades, I have tended to relive the shock of my mother’s diagnosis. This year, I did not dwell on it. Nor did I let my mind linger too long on another October, a brother was diagnosed with a terminal lymphoma.

Being preoccupied with cleaning up the yard and arranging for people to help me with trees, etc., helped. Pinktober was going to whiz right by until I saw those pink roses in Kroger beckoning me. They say flowers are nature laughing or something like that. Roses, more like a lucid dream, are beguiling. Maybe somebody else bought that bouquet to mark a cancerversary or Pinktober?

I thought I was past fretting about the past. Was I? As I was driving to Kroger, the phone rang, the cancer center calling to change the upcoming date for my annual follow-up bloodwork. I recited the date aloud to try to remember it as I could not write while driving. Thinking about the cancer checkup (what these lab results can reveal, what the annual mammogram can reveal), I walked into Kroger. It is no wonder the first thing to catch my attention was a bouquet of pink roses that helped me to calm my mind.

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October, often associated with Breast Cancer Awareness, can evoke mixed emotions for survivors. The narrative reflects on the internal conflict between indulging in symbolic gestures, like buying pink roses, and prioritizing practical needs, such as purchasing nutritious greens. The month also brings memories of personal and familial cancer battles, underscoring the emotional weight of anniversaries. Despite the challenges, acts of kindness, like donating coats, offer solace. The story highlights the ongoing journey of living with cancer, where reminders and reflections are intertwined with daily life.

Preoccupied with other worries during October, a month full of cancer anniversaries, I reflect on how Pinktober caught up with me.

A Month Without Pink, Almost

Felicia Mitchell is a survivor of stage 2b HER2-positive breast cancer diagnosed in 2010. Catch up on all of 

The last time my house lost electricity for multiple days, I was in treatment for invasive breast cancer. The power went off as I was resting from the administration of two chemo drugs, a biological drug and adjunct medicine.

It was December. Cold, I zipped into a long down coat and nestled under heavy covers, hibernating when I did not need to venture outside the house. Then, for a few days, I escaped with a friend who whisked me to a cozy bed and breakfast in nearby Asheville, North Carolina. What a luxury that was, even if I could not enjoy the tasty meals the town offered.

Now, with the aftermath of Hurricane Helene affecting so many communities, including Asheville, I cannot help but worry about everybody going through treatment alongside dealing with the loss of not only electricity but also, for some, homes, loved ones, medical facilities and more.

This hurricane as it wound down rushed through my own neighborhood, more benign than in nearby communities. Still, I woke early to branches and tree debris hitting my roof. Disconcerted, I watched the rain fall hard, but flash floods are common here. At one point, the sound of falling trees added to an eerie ambiance. Electricity went off and would stay off for about six days.

Since it was not cold outside and the house was safe, you might think I would have spent my time hunkered down knitting holiday gifts or catching up on reading. That is not what happened. Like so many of us with roofs over our heads, I first began checking on loved ones and then scrolled through news stories about ravaged communities. Sitting in my house without electricity, phone powered by backup battery blocks, I felt both connected and disconnected.

And, of course, I began to add “cancer” to search queries. How, I wondered, were people with cancer dealing with this catastrophe? Given social media, I found out. In public posts available for all to see, I saw cancer survivors resilient in the midst of devastation. I saw posts asking for prayers for people in treatment. In one of those haunting posts in which people were seeking to see if loved ones were safe, I read this: “Nana has stage 4 cancer and we are trying anything in our power to find them” (update: Nana and spouse found safe). There were news clips with cancer stories too, including from a patient whose home was damaged.

Community volunteers began helping. The American Red Cross was helping. FEMA came in. But blood and platelet drives had to be postponed, and we all know that transfusions can be a part of the cancer journey. What else? Some cancer medications need to be refrigerated. Food helps when you are weak from treatment. There was so much else, too much else, and I had to draw back after a few days, checking intermittently but not obsessively.

There is something called catastrophe fatigue. I experienced it when I had cancer for simple reasons. And if we experience catastrophe fatigue for things we can move past, with support, just imagine what is going on now for people with cancer also dealing with the issues going on in many parts of the southeast, including my Appalachian community of northeast Tennessee (where, among other significant losses, a hospital had to be evacuated by the National Guard), southwest Virginia (where homes and also roads people need to take to get to medical care were washed away), to western North Carolina (so much in the national news about this town that you can already visualize the ripple effect on patients with cancer).

While being in my home without electricity was really a piece of cake, it also made me relive a harder week and then, by association, worry about survivors actively dealing with cancer amidst the devastation. The process of recovering from a storm, and cancer, can last so long. I wish everybody better days.

Experiencing a power outage during breast cancer treatment highlighted the challenges faced by cancer patients during natural disasters. The aftermath of Hurricane Helene exacerbated these difficulties, with many losing access to essential services and medical care. Community support, including efforts by the American Red Cross and FEMA, provided some relief, but issues like postponed blood drives and medication storage persisted. The emotional toll, compounded by catastrophe fatigue, underscores the resilience required by cancer patients navigating both personal health battles and environmental crises.

When natural disasters come, they affect everybody, including people dealing with cancer. I hope for speedy recoveries to patients affected by Hurricane Helene. 

From Survivor to Survivors: Best Wishes for Recovering From a Storm 

If you have lymphedema after breast cancer and want to enjoy the company of cats, there are strategies to avoid potential problems, especially scratches.

Balancing A Love of Cats With Lymphedema After Breast Cancer

What should a person developing lymphedema after breast cancer do to balance loving cats with a health challenge that means scratches are off-limits?

When I was first diagnosed, I had a 23-pound middle-aged cat. This was not necessarily a cat I had to worry much about, as he was old and mellow. Still, I was careful in general. Knowing scratches happen accidentally, I wore long sleeves when I brushed this cat. Plus, I began to ensure that my right arm was covered by a sheet when I slept.

While that cat has passed on, there are new cats in my home, both rescues. One was an older cat when he moved in, a docile creature with the temperament of a sweetie pie despite earlier abuse. He indicates no threats at all to my good health, though I still protect my right arm near him in case he surprises me one day.

Then there is a maturing kitten, rescued at 1.5 pounds, with an extra toe on each foot providing more opportunities for scratches. As she also wants to nip when she feels threatened, we are working on responsible behavior, so that rarely happens and never to my arm. I safeguard my arm during waking and sleeping hours.

With both cats, I use handy suede gloves that go past my elbows if I need to groom them. While the docile cat loves to be groomed, it may reach out in play, which makes me vulnerable, despite his efforts never to harm me. The growing kitten sees grooming tools as toys and goes into full play mode, wanting to bite or scratch, with my arm in the way.

Enter gloves designed for rose gardening. These thick coverings work well to protect both arms, not just my arm with lymphedema. Early on, I tried dishwashing gloves but found that gardening gloves are more durable.

Although I try to make sure that my right arm is always out of harm’s way, I know accidents can happen. I got a few scratches from the kitten in the early days, all on my left arm save for one small, accidental puncture wound where a nail got me as she climbed a chair.

In such cases, you do what you are supposed to do. I cleaned the miniature wound with appropriate supplies right away and then treated it with an antiseptic. I also keep a strong antibiotic cream to use as needed. Having the right supplies to treat a scratch or any wound is essential. In addition, see a doctor or go to urgent care if a wound worries you at any point.

Another piece of advice is to trim cats’ nails. If you can do that yourself, great. I tried. Maybe when my kitten is older, I will succeed, but I do not want to risk getting scratched and cannot hold nail clippers while wearing gardening gloves. Therefore, every few months, tech assistants at my vet’s office trim my rambunctious cat’s nails. It is a splurge but under $20. As I do my own manicures, I save money grooming myself. The older cat gets his nails trimmed annually.

With two cats, of course, there is a good bit of vacuuming. My vacuum was heavy, though, and I got tired of using it during a time when I was guarding against a possible lymphedema flare threatened by something other than cats. I splurged again and bought a lightweight, cordless vacuum specializing in pet hair. Now I love to vacuum, and the kitten loves to follow along.

Most importantly, cats can be trained to be respectful of their humans. Diversion and toys help with some behaviors (and toys can be empty toilet rolls and paper bags). Cats also learn “no” and how to respect boundaries. Working with my kitten, I use a pitiful voice to exaggerate “no” if she is about to forget a boundary. Ultimately, Lucy and Fluff make my life much sweeter.

“You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine” is not just a Willie Nelson song. Sharing differences and commonalities is a natural way some breast cancer survivors bond.

Such sharing is rooted in childhood. I remember the first time somebody other than my mother looked at my breasts. A friend new to bras asked innocently during a sleepover. At that point, I was still flat, but my friend’s reaction was neither shock nor disdain. Our mutual acceptance just went to show me that bodies and breasts come in all varieties.

From friends and other role models, I have treasured those who helped me to live with a maturing body, including a post-mastectomy one. One reason I have always felt comfortable being asymmetrical, wearing a prosthesis rarely, is because a woman who worked at the library when I was in graduate school greeted anyone who entered the lobby with a body she felt so comfortable in, one with one breast. Showing me who she was prepared me to be more of myself when my turn came.

I also learned another lesson about body positivity during graduate school in Austin, Texas, a time swimming topless or nude was acceptable. It was liberating to go to Barton Springs or Hippy Hollow. While I have not gone skinny dipping since I jumped into a secluded creek near my current home with a friend almost 40 years ago, I sometimes think about how much fun it would be to skinny dip today with my new body: one breast I worry about (not size but cancer risk) and one mastectomy site. It will happen one day.

Fortunately, early days of skinny-dipping along with other lessons on difference over the years prepared me for my lack of inhibitions during breast exams, scans and dermatology checks even after the mastectomy. Having breast cancer role models including that woman in the library and, a few years later (my mother) also helped. Body positivity can embrace all our body types.

Recently I was talking with a friend about how people scar differently. I asked her how well she had scarred with her mastectomy, and then we did it. We shared our mastectomy sites in my living room couch, like two old friends with a new bond or two young girls unhampered by false modesty. We were different but the same, no judgment (even if my site was puffier, my scar redder).

Of course, I am only one person. Margaret Fitch has written comprehensively about attitudes toward bodily changes in “Living With Body Image Changes Following Completion of Cancer Treatment.” Some survivors, for example, feel as if their bodies are mutilated or deformed. (This is why counseling can be so helpful throughout breast cancer journeys.)

While sharing can help with acceptance, we need to respect where others are in their journeys. Some cancer survivors may thrive with a less show-and-tell approach. When sharing does not create envy or disordered thinking, it may make breasts changed by lumpectomies and mastectomies feel more natural.

Having role models who illustrated body positivity helped me feel more acceptance of changes after my mastectomy.

Felicia Mitchell

A Month Without Pink, Almost

From Survivor to Survivors: Best Wishes for Recovering From a Storm

Balancing A Love of Cats With Lymphedema After Breast Cancer

Sharing Body Positivity after a Mastectomy

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