Kylie Minogue Has Breast Cancer

Here’s a warning: this one’s not funny.

Kylie Minogue has breast cancer.

She’s 36, in great shape, and fabulous in every way. Except she has breast cancer. I mean—please, no. Can it just go away? I’d rather not have to hide out under my bed in fear of it, but some days, at least symbolically, that’s what I do.

Kylie Minogue has breast cancer.

I can hear a voice in my head whisper it to me at intervals throughout the day. Reminding me: it’s out there. It knows where you live. It will find you too. Walking downtown, I’ll catch a glimpse of myself in the windows of a shop. And I’ll hear it, ominous.

Kylie Minogue has breast cancer.

Not just Kylie. She’s not the only one spinning around in Chemo. Melissa Etheridge, Edie Falco, Patti LaBelle, Olivia Newton-John, Lynn Redgrave, Carly Simon, Gloria Steinem, and two of Charlie’s Angels Kate Jackson and Jaclyn Smith have all had it. I can’t believe it.

Kylie Minogue has breast cancer.

Not just the famous people either. Here’s where it gets really scary for me. Here’s where I want to hide out under the bed. Cousins checked for abnormalities. Aunts in remission – thankfully. Aunts who never got a chance at remission – sadly. Great aunts long gone. Others currently in treatment and fighting. Through both arms of my family tree, it is eating its way through the women. And I am waiting for it to find me.

Kylie Minogue has breast cancer.

How young was I when the knowledge that the diagnosis was in my future settled upon me? So much clearer than a premonition. Fifteen? I think that was it. You make your own future, Jenn, Mom told me. You don’t know what’s going to happen. Yes, I know, but still… There it is, like the break in my lifeline that I already know the explanation for.

Kylie Minogue has breast cancer.

Remember that movie “Step Mom”, with Susan Sarandon dying of breast cancer and Julia Roberts left to grow into mothering Susan’s children? Horrible movie. But I cried throughout, and sniffled my way back to the parking lot afterwards. “Stop worrying about me,” Mom said, hoping to make me stop crying. “It wasn’t you I was worried about,” I choked. She stopped a moment and realized what I was saying. She gave me a look of sad understanding. But how do you reassure your twenty year-old daughter that she will live long enough to see the children of her future grow up?

Kylie Minogue has breast cancer.

I’m long past the point of joking “if there’s any lumps there, I’m sure to find them!” My body has moved from that of a thin and boyish young girl to one of a grown woman. I worry the curves will hide any lumps. I check religiously. Tenderness under the left armpit? What’s that about? Keep an eye on that one. But you won’t feel pain, they tell me. You won’t feel pain until it’s too late. It must just be hormonal, silly. I wake up in night sweats, and panic. It wasn’t a nightmare. Didn’t Mom tell me once that night sweats were a warning sign for cancer? Is it? Is that what that is?

Kylie Minogue has breast cancer.

I alternate between being preventative and being brazen about it. The studies all contradict themselves. The warnings on the label of the prescription are vague and unclear. I’ve gone through phases where I simply snot well, it runs in the family so it’s going to get me no matter what I do, so I’m just going to do whatever I want anyway. And then I get scared and stop. Because maybe taking that pill is just adding fuel to the fire. Maybe that will just make it get me faster.

Kylie Minogue has breast cancer.

I’ve heard the stories of women getting preventive mastectomies. They choose to lop off their breasts before anything is ever detected. It can’t kill them if they ain’t got ‘em, they figure. I don’t condemn their resolute belief, but I could never make that choice myself. My femininity is all wrapped up in my curves. Take that away from me and I wouldn’t just want to hide out under my bed, I’d want to hide out in the dark. I’d feel bare, exposed, stripped of my identity, of my attractiveness. Please don’t touch me. Don’t pay any mind to me. I’m just a eunuch. Forget me.

Kylie Minogue has breast cancer.

Fight it Kylie. Cut it out and smack it down with whatever chemicals and radiation you need to. Get rid of it. Live to tell. Tell every woman you come across to get regular checks. That’s what I would do. That’s what I will do when the time comes. Get it early; get it out of me.

Save Kylie.