October 1^st is around the corner. We know what that means, right? Yeah, it’s the 10^th month of the year. Yes, fall is in full swing. And yes, football Sundays with family and friends. But what normally happens in October is an explosion of pink.

Everywhere we turn we’ll see varying shades, ribbons of every shape and size, key words like ‘hope’, ‘strength’, ‘courage’, ‘survivor’. Even funny catchy knick knacks with saying like this.

I used to hate all the pink in October. It was just a reminder of the battle my mother had lost. I didn’t need that reminder in October; I had it all year round. Why do most people tend to forget about pink the other 11 months of the year?

Then I realized it’s not about other people. It’s about all those women (and men) who have been affected by breast cancer. I’m sure everyone out there knows someone. If you’re reading this and you don’t know someone, well now you do. Me! (BTW that’s my travel mug)

About two and a half years ago I got the devastating news that I too was one of those women that was going to be told she had breast cancer. But it wasn’t so devastating, really. It was actually expected. You see, I already knew I carried the BRCA1 mutation. I’d been watched and screened carefully for over 15 years. So when it was caught, it was caught early with a great prognosis.

My mother battled breast cancer 4 times until she passed away at the tender age of 48. It will be 20 years this December. Her prognosis was never that great. They didn’t have the knowledge of genetic testing back then, or the technology to catch it before it could even be felt (like mine). Now they do though.

Why?

Because when October comes around, the word gets out. People spend money and buy all those things. Businesses donate proceeds of items specifically sold for breast cancer awareness. And all that money, and all that exposure and all that knowledge will help the next generation of men and women.

So with that being said, I no longer get annoyed when I only see pink so widespread in October. Instead I run out and buy as much as I can because I know every little bit counts. I carry my travel mug around so when someone laughs at it, I laugh with them.

I wear the pink and diamond sapphire engagement ring on my ring hand daily that my husband gave me for Mother’s day weeks after my diagnosis. And when someone comments on it (because it’s a pretty speculator rock and people always do) I tell them what it symbolizes.

I spread the word, my message and all those before me and after me, with pride. I no longer get annoyed with a pink explosion in October, but try to sprinkle it around when I can, then blast it like everyone else in October!