The Last Day of Pink

It’s the last day of Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

And if I’m honest, I feel… complicated about it.

Because for a lot of people, tomorrow everything goes back to normal.

The pink bows come down, the Facebook frames disappear, and the world moves on.

But for people like me, this isn’t something we get to take off.

The month might end, but the fight doesn’t.

The scans don’t stop.

The pills, the pain, the appointments, the fear—they all stay.

I’m grateful for the awareness, for the walks, for every friend who wore pink or donated or showed up. I’m grateful for every survivor who stood tall, and for every name spoken out loud to honor the ones who couldn’t be there.

But I also want to remind everyone—breast cancer doesn’t only live in October. It’s every day, every hour, every blood test and MRI and quiet moment when you’re trying to remember what it felt like to just be healthy.

This month is about awareness, but going forward, I hope it’s also about action. About compassion that lasts past Halloween. About checking in on the women who seem strong but are just tired. About supporting research that gives us more tomorrows.

Because for me—and so many others—this isn’t just a month.

It’s a life we didn’t choose, but one we’re determined to make matter.

Thank you to everyone who’s walked beside me this October.

Keep wearing pink, keep talking about it, keep fighting with us—

even when the world goes back to beige.

💗

— Izzy (& Mojo)

🐾 Mojo’s POV:

Mom says pink month is over, but I think she deserves a medal every day.

She wore her pink, smiled through the pain, and somehow still made everyone else feel seen.

So if you see her (or anyone like her), don’t pack the pink away just yet.

Keep showing up. Keep loving loud.

Because cancer doesn’t get to decide when the love stops.

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I’m Izzy

Welcome to mojo and the mess, This isn’t the blog I ever expected to write — but it’s the one I needed.

I’m Izzy, a twenty-something living (and dying) with terminal cancer, navigating the messy, heartbreaking, unexpectedly beautiful in-between. Here, you’ll find raw reflections, real talk, dog snuggles (shoutout to Mojo), and the unfiltered truth about what it’s like to face the end of your life before it really got going.

This space is for the ones who’ve felt forgotten, the ones who don’t know what to say, and the ones who are still holding on. It’s not always pretty, but it’s always honest.

Thanks for being here. You’re part of the mess now — and I mean that in the best way.

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