A Long October

2025, man. I’m not a fan.

The whole year has been some sort of perverse reality competition show showcasing increasingly cruel governmental acts against humanity, but October really hauled off and kicked me in the ass.

Over the past couple of years I’ve leaned into a bittersweet September, a time for both melancholy and hope. Melancholy because September 2025 marks 25 years since I lost one of my favorite people in the world to suicide, and hopeful because her story and legacy fuels my work and advocacy for mental health and suicide prevention in kids. As September also happens to be Suicide Prevention Month, I embrace the date coincidence and go all in.

By the time October arrives I’m quite over cause-themed months and ready for the beauty and emotional relief of a Vermont October.

As I realized this year, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month and thanks to 2025, I’m now very, very aware.

When I scheduled my mammogram, I was pleased with myself for being such a grownup.

When I learned I’d need a repeat mammogram, I was irritated. I always need a repeat mammogram.

When the tech said I needed an ultrasound, I was surprised.

When she guided me to a small room with a strategically-placed box of tissues and said the doctor would be right in, I became concerned.

When the doctor told me I have a mass in my breast, and due to its spiculated appearance, I likely have an invasive breast cancer of some sort, and I need an ultrasound-guided biopsy during which they would leave a small titanium clip in my breast to help them find it later on during surgery,

I’m sorry, what? I think I blacked out for a second. What are we talking about?

Fortunately, my husband is a physician and he was on rounds just a few floors above the breast cancer center. He joined me and served as a functioning substitute human with a functioning brain for the duration of the appointment.

I returned the following week, and I highly recommend the presence of a Golden Retriever at any stressful medical exam. In my case, Mango, a friend’s Golden Retriever, was on duty in the ultrasound room and watched over my biopsy.

It’s one thing to understand you likely have breast cancer and quite another to read it on a lab report. I refreshed my digital chart hourly, and thank goodness I have my own personal doctor on call to help me make sense of my results. By the time the wonderful, kind, and professional nurse navigator called to discuss my results, I had a pretty good sense of what was coming.

My diagnosis is lobular breast cancer (here’s a video about this type of breast cancer by my new favorite YouTube creator, Dr. Liz O’Riordan) and I will be having a double mastectomy in November, followed by whatever my lymph node biopsies dictate comes after.

Unfortunately/fortunately I have a circle of good friends who have lived the treatment options I face. May you all have friends like these, I love them so.

I’m solid and secure in the decisions I have made about my treatment, and really do not want advice from anyone outside of my medical team.

I’m telling you about my diagnosis because for better or for worse, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month and I wanted to take the opportunity during October to encourage you to make that mammogram appointment. Go with a friend and have lunch together or treat yourself to a big coffee and muffin afterward, but go. Most medical centers don’t require a referral from a primary caregiver, and it does not take very long. It can be uncomfortable and yes, sometimes and at certain angles it can hurt a little, but it’s incredibly important you go.

Finally, this newsletter also serves as official notice that I will not be participating in November which is…(checks notes):

• Lung Cancer Awareness Month

• American Diabetes Month

• Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Month

• National Epilepsy Awareness Month

• National Hospice and Palliative Care Month

Thanks for the invitation, November, but my dance card is full.

*With respect to Counting Crows and their Long December.