I told my six-year-old son today that on Friday, we will attend a University of Florida gymnastics meet. Not such a big deal in and of itself but the fact that the entire meet is dedicated to the battle against breast cancer is what makes my announcement to Joey so important. You see, Joey has been my faithful companion ever since I was diagnosed with breast cancer two years ago. He has been my link to all things simple. He has been my rock, my inspiration, my motivation to fight for my life.

I told Joey this sports event is a celebration of people with breast cancer, like me. And I told him everyone must wear pink, a color he knows well when it's twisted in ribbon formation. I eagerly awaited Joey's reaction to the whole pink thing, not because he has an aversion to pink but because his absolute favorite color is orange and he tends to choose this fabric selection whenever possible. But without hesitation, Joey was completely accepting of making a pink fashion statement.

I told Joey we would make shirts so we could be as pink as possible on Friday. So we bought white t-shirts and two shades of pink dye, and we will soon tie-dye our shirts for the festive occasion where both University of Florida and University of Kentucky gymnasts will wear pink leotards -- in different shades -- and where the fans will make donations to the local American Cancer Society.

Joey asked me while we shopped for our t-shirt supplies if lots of people have cancer.

"Yes," I told him, recalling a fact I had just learned -- 8.9 million Americans alive today have a history of cancer. "Lots of people have cancer."

I am not sure what this means to Joey. But I suspect his comprehension of the disease is limited to pink ribbons, bald heads, and periodic celebrations. If only cancer were that simple.

Cancer is not simple. But Joey helps me face each day with simplicity. And I can't wait to simply make a few t-shirts with him and then pack the place pink in honor of all the women who every day face the complexities of a fierce opponent.