Prostate Cancer Bracelet – An interesting story about WHY You need to be wearing it

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Also known as prostate cancer awareness bracelets, this article contains a very interesting story that looks closely at these prostate cancer bracelets and explains why and how you too can get them to get involved in the fight against this condition.

I sat in the hall and stared at everything without seeing anything. To me, my world had just ended because the doctor had just told us that my dad was dead. At fourteen years old it should not have hurt that bad, should it? I was a big boy, even though the youngest of four brothers and a sister. I would hear my mum’s sobbing somewhere in the distant corners of my mind, but I was not there anymore. My dad was by no means a young man at sixty eight, but it still hurt? only it should not have hurt so badly.

I knew the story: for the past six years my mum and dad had been secretly battling prostate cancer, and only Ron, the eldest knew of it. Then last week they had called everyone home from all over and broken the news to us all. Dad had a week, maybe two to live, and he wanted to spend his last few days with his kids and grandkids around him. He did; and now he was gone. It had taken us a few days to adjust to that reality, and the boys were all brazenfaced about it, while the ladies were all tears.

But I was going to be strong too. I was a man who knew that his dad was passing along, and I had had ten days to prepare for it. I was going to be strong too, it if meant that I was going to have to shut it out of my consciousness ? compartmentalize.

I saw nothing but while as my heart ached, and it was a speck of blue that brought me back to my surroundings. I don’t know how long I had been there, but apparently after having tried to get through to me for a while, my family had wondered off. That wasn’t so strange; being the youngest in the home, I was often the bad guy too. But right in front of me dangled a wrist with a bracelet on it that said: “Prostate Cancer awareness.”

The wrist belonged to an arm, and the arm belonged to an older boy who was standing there looking at me with a deep understanding in his eyes. I don’t know what it was about him, but I immediately knew I could talk to him. “Prostate cancer?” he asked, hardly moving at all. “Your dad?”

I nodded and he sat down next to me, put his long arm around me, and proceeded to speak in quiet tones: “My dad too, four years ago; when I was about your age. I have had this on ever since.” He brandished the band, and went on to tell me how they had fought a good fight but that the cancer had been diagnosed too late. However he was giving what he could now to help others in their fight against the disease. He gave me the statistics too, and told me I could be a big part of that fight. When I left the hospital, I had one of those light blue silicone rubber prostate cancer awareness wristbands on me, and I was strangely no longer sad. I felt now like for ten meager dollars I was part of something a lot greater than myself ? the struggle to bring an end to a disease that would bring an end to us.

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