Today, the 5th of January 2017, is Jane McGrath Day, and the Sydney Cricket Ground has turned pink for the annual #PinkTest. The foundation is aiming to raise $390,000 for breast cancer support. To donate, click here.
Three things scare the pants off me:
When I spot a lizard sunning its scaly skin in its ‘natural habitat’ (our front yard), I’m chilled to the bone. And it was the same for me when I spotted a lumpy bump on my right breast last week in my natural habitat, Sportsgirl.
In a rare moment without a child tugging at my jeans, I’d ducked into the store for a quick browse. Half an hour later as I was trying on my 7th item, I unhooked my bra to slip on a gorgeous white, silk top. As I moved my hips and shoulders slowly from side to side in front of the mirror striking various ridiculous poses to properly check out the top (c’mon, don’t tell me you don’t do this too!), I saw a little bump through the silk. Almost like a tiny erect nipple, but not where a nipple should be.
I ripped off the top – sorry about the makeup stains, Sportsgirl – and started pressing on the flesh, praying there was nothing there. But there definitely was. A little lump the size of a grain of rice.
Tracy Bevan on how she has kept Jane McGrath’s memory alive for her kids:
And as the colour drained from my face, I thought of my mum. Again. My mother who found a lump when she was only 25. My mother who was told it was nothing. My mother who went back to the doctor 6 months later, still concerned about that lump. My mother who had a mastectomy to try to remove the cancer. My mother who died from cancer aged 34.
The fear I felt in that fitting room blew my fear of reptiles right out of the water. But like my scaly antagonists, my blood was running cold.