Surrender Pink 2025

*I post this essay in Pinktober. It serves as my once a year breast cancer rant. It is also my offering of gratitude to the people behind the scenes researching for the cure and caring for the women and families who live with breast cancer.

Surrendering Pink

Ok, I’ll say it. “I hate pink!” This is a harsh statement for me to admit out loud, on paper, since pink had forever been my favorite color.

The pink passion started early. My mother always dressed my three younger sisters and me in the same style Sunday and holiday dresses,hats, and coats. We were four sisters with less than a four-year age spread from oldest to youngest. Mary had the carefree blues, Diana in gorgeous greens (the only light-eyed and golden hair of the four who could carry all shades of green), and I in cheerful pinks. Barbara, the youngest, wore my faded hand-me-downs. Mom dubbed her color “peach”. Often our peddle-pushers and peter-pan collared shirts were color assigned.

Pink suited me. Pinks softened my dark eyes and evened my ruddy skin tone. While most girls outgrew their pink leanings, I continued to wear pink-from fluffy headbands to sparkly pink pumps. I preferred pink roses. Conveniently, pink tourmaline marked my birthstone. Soft-spoken pink was not loud, like orange or fierce like red. Happy pink fit my practical and shy nature best. It was always mine.

Then breast cancer hit. Surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation therapies knocked out Stage 1 cancer and forever placed me in the sisterhood of survivors. This was not exactly a crowd I wanted to be a part of, but since 2007, I have been proud to have this powerful army on my side of the battle.

Pink, breast cancer’s mascot, flooded my already pink themed drawers and closet. During that year, the color crept beyond the clothing and took center stage in accessories and housewares. I toted canvas bags with the pink ribbon embroidered on the sides and collected pink flip-flop promotional pins to give away with the message to be vigilant. I wore pink breast cancer awareness T-shirts and scarves to prove my participation in walks. My pink had a new role as proof of membership to the mission. I was proud to be a pink survivor and so grateful to have my health and a long life ahead. I felt safe.

Then the bottom fell out in 2012. The menace came back. Cancer had metastasized to my bones. Some little cell(s) somehow survived the onslaught five years before and meandered its way to my vertebrae. Unbelievably, some 25-30% of early staged breast cancer patients develop Stage IV metastasized cancers! Now the cancer lives in me forever. Procedures, scans and treatment remind me that this thing can consume me. I will never be out of the battle. I will never feel safe.

No one dies of cancer to the breast, but over forty thousand American women die of metastatic breast cancer each year. Today, there is no cure—only management. Some women can manage very well and live long busy lives. Others struggle to find the right “cocktail” that keeps the cancer at bay. There are so many variables that dictate protocol and outcomes, so that each woman’s journey is unique.

I am lucky, though. The metastatic breast cancer, MBC, was caught early before any actual damage. Bone metastases are slow growing as compared to invasions to other vital organs. After surgeries and radiation therapy, my ongoing treatment protocols have been minimally invasive. The cancer I harbor has been very lazy. I continue to work and take care of my family and home. Play fits in more frequently, and there is a dent in a deep bucket list. I honestly state, “I’m fine,” and dismiss any other inquiries and discussions of the monster. I won’t give it front and center attention.

My practical and shy nature surrendered my beloved pinks to take on a bold stance. I adopted my sisters’ blues and greens. Strong reds and bold purples seeped into my closet. The pink ribbon mugs live in the corner of the kitchen cabinet. The pretty pink shoes and handy totes have new homes. I hung up the pink survivor role for a stealth warrior persona.

Despite all this good attitude, I feel that my body betrayed me. I try not to rant over the unfairness or sob through boxes of tissues (OK, I’ll admit to having regular private pity parties). But it is unfair and devastating when a fellow breast cancer sister is lost. There have been many. I have been especially saddened over my little cousin who lost her life two years ago to MBC after a twelve year battle. I held her pale hand and wondered why her journey was so short and painful, while here I am walking around fine. I don’t have an answer. There is no answer. But maybe one day the question does not have to exist.

Although the value of the Pinktober fundraising campaigns is important for breast awareness and support, I focus my attention and contributions to medical research. Finding the cure is the mission. I am “fine” because breast cancer sisters before me struggled and endured through trials and protocols. I am “fine” because of supported and thorough science. I am “fine” because research is coming closer to a cure.

October 13th is the nationally recognized official Metastatic Breast Cancer Awareness Day. The campaign drives awareness that MORE research is needed to find a cure. Only 5% of overall breast cancer research in the U.S. goes to MBC research.

The METAvivor Foundation is committed to MBC research and to advocating for improved access to healthcare. If you contribute to October’s breast cancer campaigns, please consider METAvivor. METAvivor funds the research to wipe this hideous disease out of our life stories. 100% of raised monies go directly into the science that will cure MBC.