In August of 1999, my sister and I completed a marathon event, The Avon Breast Cancer Three Day. This affair, sponsored by Avon, had participants walking sixty miles over a three day period, from West Point, New York to Manhattan. It was the most physically challenging and exhausting experience I had ever endured.

Except for giving birth. And that only took two days.

But no amount of pain would stop the thousands of participants—99.9% women—because we were united, an army of one, comrades-in-arms, fighting this battle in the war against breast cancer.

On the first day of the event, we awoke at 4 am—sleepy-eyed and caffeine depleted—to board the buses that took us to ground zero, the starting point of our sixty mile adventure. There, we listened to CEO James Preston of Avon (the company for women), who stood among us advocating the importance of our involvement in this conflict.

He spoke compassionately, using loud speakers and visual effects, telling us about the company’s determination to win, win, win this war on breast cancer. He (could have) reminded the audience of the history of Avon which was founded in 1886, by Mr. David McConnell (originally called the California Perfume Company) and in its (then) 113 year history, there had never been a woman chief executive officer.

(In January 1998, Andrea Jung came on board as President of Avon. Her employment agreement dated 12/11/97 stated her base salary at $500,000. James Preston, as CEO, earned a base salary of $1 million.)

After this in-cite-ful indoctrination, we were charged up, and ready to rumble.

On the first day, we walked 22 miles in humidity and temperatures that hovered around 100 degrees, on the second day, 20 miles, and 18 on the third. At the end of each day’s march, we removed our backpacks, set up camp, ate in the mess tent, bathed in communal showers, tended to our sore, aching, tired, feet, and then slept.

Unfortunately over the three day course, some of the participants were not able to complete the mission, succumbing to heat stroke, physical exhaustion, swelling of the feet, hammer toes, or that darn fungus foot. Some just plain went AWOL. But not me. No sir. I was able to do everything that was mandated: (1) raise the $1,200 entrance fee (anything less would’ve come out of my pocket), (2) attend a class entitled “Ten Walking Mistakes to Avoid” (like flapping your arms like a chicken), and (3) watching a 75 minute video on how to cross the street (look both ways and wait for the cars to pass before crossing).

Everyone involved gave their unwavering support and implicitly understood that you are either with Avon (the company for women) in its war on breast cancer or you are with the terrorizing few that strayed from the pack and articulated independent (albeit “liberal”) thought about this often fatal disease. And if you are in the latter, you’re sure to get breast cancer.

Some people even formed conspiracy theories which bordered on subversion, questioning how a company whose products, applied directly to the skin (the body’s largest organ), include ingredients such as diazolidinyl urea, propylene glycol, oxybenzone, and four different types of parabens—have the audacity to advocate they are working to eradicate this disease.

They wanted to know why Avon pays enormous fees to fundraisers (including a $7.5 million dollar settlement that Avon doled out in 2005 to their former marketing joint venture partner, Pallotta Team Works, which equates to 6,250 walkathon participants minimum contribution or 12,500 blistered feet), and why marketing and overhead charges are a whopping 22 cents on every dollar raised.

Make no mistake about it, a cancer diagnosis is frightening and treatment options—which include chemotherapy, radiation, surgery, and/or drugs—are physically, emotionally, and financial debilitating. That is exactly why I decided to participate a decade ago.

But since then, I’ve learned quite a bit about the power of those who capitalize on (never-ending) wars against “something”. Dr. Paul Hochfeld, an emergency room physician who co-founded Mad as Hell Doctors, has been traveling the country trying to raise awareness of the medical community’s practices. He recently stated America has a “sick care non-system that serves the pharmaceutical and insurance industry.” According to Dr. Hochfeld, “Specialists in our health care system are just making a shitload of money. I really say that without any hesitancy. We’ve got a sick care system, which the way to maximize profit is to keep somebody alive a little longer or make them not quite so ill.”

That’s pretty powerful stuff. But then again, America allows drug companies to spend billions of dollars a year telling citizens—by any media source possible—that their doctors are too stupid to know what drugs they should be taking and tens of billions more directly marketing these same products to physicians. The pharmaceutical industry spends almost twice as much on advertising ($60 billion in 2008) than on research and development.

And you know breast cancer is big business when they designate October as National Breast Cancer Awareness month. When did breast cancer become the Cinderella of diseases? I mean, I’ll be honest, I like my breasts, they look great, but I also adore my pancreas, my esophagus and my ovaries. My uterus carried a healthy child. And my liver? Oh, baby, it’s the best! I couldn’t choose one organ over another.

Earlier this year, a new tax client gave me a hard lesson in the business of breast cancer. While trying to file an amended return for this widower whose wife succumbed at age 41 after depleting $50,000 of their savings, I needed to talk to the doctor who governed her care. Reaching a switchboard operator at this regional breast cancer-treatment “clearinghouse”, I asked to speak with the physician of Mary Brown.

“Which Mary Brown?”

“Mary Brown of New Jersey.”

“Which Mary Brown of NJ?”

“How many Mary Browns of NJ, do you have?” I inquired.

“Plenty. Do you have her date of birth? I’ll need more specifics; our files are enormous.”

It took several months and numerous attempts before my message was relayed to the doctor in charge.

The US Department of Health and Human Services says breast cancer is the second leading cause of cancer deaths in women—in America. Our chance of getting breast cancer is one in eight. But our odds are six times greater than women in China and India.

Why is that? That’s what I want to know. So I did some research and came up with several very good sources that talk passionately about cancer and other diseases in a light not seen before in our so-called mainstream media: The China Study by T. Colin Campbell, Dying to Have Known, a DVD by Charlotte Gerson, and A Delicate Balance, a DVD by Phoenix Films Forever.

Check them out because until we have honest and open discussions—irrespective of what market segments are impaired by the answers—American women will continue to soldier on in the trenches fighting battles that may have nothing to do with saving their lives but more to do with saving the lively business of breast cancer.