Years ago, my wife launched and maintained a self-help group for Women with and survivors of Breast Cancer. This was made necessary after she and a colleague made a in-depth study about the incidence of Breast Cancer on the area we resided then. It was 3x higher than the National average, but it was 6x higher than the European Average. Basically the chances for females in that area were that 2 in 5 would have it, and of those 6 of 10 would die of it. The causes of it, were promptly buried, I'll let you all imagine why.
She organized meetings, where the survivors and diagnosed women would come, share strength and hope. Since the first moment of the diagnosis, they were chaperoned by someone from the survivors, any medical appointment, any treatment, they were there for each other. Some underwent plastic surgery, but most of the oldest, opted for external prosthetics. The smiles on the faces of those old ladies, when they managed to get the prosthesis and look at themselves feeling closer to whole, is something that I will never forget. They seemed drunken on joy. A few, couldn't stand the touch on their scars, or, their bodies had rejected the surgery, those opted for tattoos. With tears. With heartbreaking sobs that broke my heart because nothing else could be done. At those times, I was asked to leave, being a male I was bringing in their fear of rejection or disgust in my eyes, there was none, but they feared it.
then the inevitable happened, the first male joined the group. Ashamed. Timid. Scared. Those women gathered around him, shit, they made him feel an Harem Lord. Sadly he didn't survive, but the change in his posture and his demeanor was 180º from when entered the group. I saw them doing it over and over. Never ever underestimate the power of love, folks.
OH, and:
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