I lost a woman I loved like a mother to Breast Cancer October 17, 2012.

In February when we were called to the hospital for what we thought may have been pneumonia I was optimistic even after she revealed to the family that she had Breast Cancer.  I thought no big deal; Mama was diligent about her health and never missed a mammogram so I was sure it was early enough for her to beat this. This was not the first time I had seen a loved one battle the disease.  My stepmother won her battle with Breast Cancer years prior and this had made me somewhat oblivious to the severity of the disease. I remember my dad telling me she was diagnosed and I remember her being Cancer free.

Everything else is a blur to me partly due to the narcissism of my youth. I was sure this would be the case this time as well however 9 months later the woman who had loved me like her own flesh and blood was dead. I was floored. I just couldn’t understand how a woman who was the picture of health could die from a disease that I saw people beat every day. I was heartbroken, devastated, and innately pissed.

When someone close to you dies I believe it is human nature to begin to question your own mortality. I was no exception and I spent a lot of time online researching Breast Cancer statistics and I saw something alarming. White women over 40 are more likely to be diagnosed with Breast Cancer but Black women are more likely to die from it. There are many theories as to why this is so.

  Of course many believe socioeconomics play the biggest role. Black women in the inner city are alleged to not have access to adequate healthcare. African American women are also 3 times as likely to be diagnosed with Triple Negative Breast Cancer, a highly aggressive form of the disease that progresses faster and that is harder to treat.

Diets low in fruits and vegetables and high in fats raise your risk along with obesity which goes hand in hand with a poor diet. Of all of the articles I read on the disparities between Black and White women’s Breast Cancer survival rates the one that perplexed me the most was an article I read where a doctor was interviewed and he said some of his African American patients weren’t as persistent with their treatment because they believed “God would heal them”.  While I am a fervent believer in the power of prayer I don’t think that lifesaving medical treatments would be considered an affront to God but people are free to believe whatever they like. The absence of Black participants in the early days of Breast Cancer research didn’t help the issue either.

I am by no means a medical professional and cannot attest to the accuracy of any of these factors but the numbers do not lie.

Ladies, go to the doctor.  Ask a million questions if you have to and if he or she does not like it, find a new doctor!  Also be aware of your family history, perform the monthly self-exams, and don’t be afraid to get your mammograms; this is a case where ignorance is absolutely not bliss. Breast Cancer is by no means a guaranteed death sentence for African American women. My beautiful stepmother is a 14 year survivor and I’m sure there are many more just like her but one mother, one sister or one friend is one too many.