October Is Breast Cancer Awareness Month

Before getting into my own medical appointments this week, there’s something I don’t want to overlook.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

Living with cancer and heart disease has taught me how quickly a diagnosis can change your life. My own cancer battle has been with prostate cancer, but I want to acknowledge everyone facing breast cancer, too.

Awareness matters. So does early detection, recommended screenings, research and support. But I think there’s something else we sometimes forget.

Cancer doesn’t end when the ribbons come down, and neither should our compassion.

The most important thing we can do for someone isn’t anything complicated. It’s simply being there.

And that brings me to my own week.

Saturday, October 10, 2026, 7 p.m.

I returned home from visiting Maya this morning, and although the train ride back was much smoother than the bus ride there (that’s a separate story coming soon), I was beat. After grabbing something to eat, I pretty much slept the entire day.

Before getting into anything else, I want to wish Maya another very happy birthday. Today, she officially turned the big 5-0.

We had a wonderful time together in Boston. The visit was filled with laughter, love, a little romance and enough hijinks to keep us both entertained.

Vampires

We even made our way to Salem, where apparently a vampire thought he’d help himself to a little of my blood. But considering all the blood I’ve had drawn over the years because of cancer and heart disease, Maya wasn’t about to let him take anymore.

The creature of the night picked the wrong dude, and Maya wasn’t having any of his bloodsucking nonsense. Armed with a wooden stake and that Boston attitude of hers, she was ready to put an end to his plans.

As she put it, “I’m a damn Boston girl. Ain’t no vampire getting my man. Buffy got nothin’ on my ass!”

And people wonder why I love this woman.

Back to Reality: Living with Cancer and Heart Disease

On Tuesday, October 13, I have a medical oncology appointment. The following day, October 14, it’s back to cardiology to check on the heart that’s been giving me trouble for more than 20 years.

When the Moment Comes

When my moment comes, I want to look back on my life and say, “I lived, loved, laughed, cried, took chances and made mistakes.”

I’ve opened my heart when it would’ve been easier to keep it closed. I found happiness in the little things and reasons to keep going when life got difficult.

And when your moment comes, I hope you can say you did it all, too.

Sunday, October 11, 2026, 8:30 am

No vampire thoughts this morning or wild dreams to recollect. But something unusual crossed my mind. It was a comment from my editor after reading yesterday’s entry.

“You’re writing about two serious medical appointments, but the first photograph within your story is you embracing Maya on her birthday. That says something about your character.”

I hadn’t really thought about it that way.

Maybe that says something about where I am in life these days. Despite the cancer, heart disease and everything else, there’s still a whole lot more to my life than doctors, medications and test results.

And I’d like to keep it that way.

Monday, October 12, 2026, 7:30 am

A Little Christmas in October

Before leaving for Boston last week, I had a conversation with longtime friend Kristyn Burtt, an entertainment reporter and Boston native who now calls California home.

Kristyn is one of the very few friends who has chosen an ornament for my Christmas tree every year since I began asking friends to do so following my cancer diagnosis in June 2023. It’s my way of bringing a little happiness into my life during some pretty fucked-up times.

She’s also doubled as a Boston tour guide for me, but this time our conversation was about more than that.

We talked about the little 4½-foot Christmas tree I’d purchased and how I wasn’t entirely happy with it. We also talked about Wicked, the musical I was taking Maya to see for her birthday.

I asked Kristyn if she’d choose a couple of ornaments from a local mom-and-pop shop in Salem rather than somewhere like Amazon. I told her she could send me the information, and I’d stop by the shop and pick them myself while visiting.

As for my Christmas tree dilemma, Kristyn offered some simple advice.

“You should do what makes you the happiest.”

It was a great reminder of why I started this ornament tradition in the first place. She has also promised that cancer or not, she’ll continue picking out an ornament for me every Christmas for as long as we’re friends.

That means a lot to me.

Because having people in your life who care about you shouldn’t depend on whether you’re sick or healthy and it’s the smallest gestures that remind you who those people are.

So I decided to return the little tree and bring out last year’s six-footer.

I haven’t started hanging the ornaments yet, but the lights are on, the wise old snowy owl is perched on top and Kristyn’s two Salem ornaments are waiting at the bottom.

As I look at that tree, I’m reminded of something else. It’s not just the ornaments that make this tradition special. It’s the people who have continued being part of it, through some of the most difficult years of my life.

That’s something worth being happy about. 🎄❤️

Speaking of the people who make life a little better, here’s a song that seems particularly appropriate today.

Because it’s not how many people you have in your life that matters. It’s knowing who’ll still be there when life gets difficult.

Tuesday, October 13, 2026, 7:30 am

Back to the Business of Fighting Cancer

Well, it was nice while it lasted.

Yesterday morning, I woke up with another hot flash. Just another reminder that while I’ve been busy enjoying life, my cancer treatment hasn’t exactly taken a vacation.

Between the Lupron, Xtandi, fatigue and those wonderful hot flashes, there are days when my body reminds me that I’m still dealing with this disease.

Fortunately, I didn’t experience any hot flashes while visiting Boston. Fatigue, on the other hand, came along for the ride.

The vitamin E and CoQ10 supplements my medical oncologist suggested during my last visit have helped keep the hot flashes in check. They were much worse prior to adding them to my evening meds.

Today, I’m heading back to medical oncology to find out where things stand.

We’re All a Little Lost

What caught my attention wasn’t only Jane Marczewski’s battle with cancer. It was learning that her stage name, Nightbirde, came from three recurring dreams about birds singing in the darkness.

I’ve had unforgettable dreams of my own, including another last night. Neither my editor nor I knew about that connection when she suggested the song. Nor did I know that Nightbirde said she had come to her America’s Got Talent audition alone.

Another one of those strange synchronicities that seem to cross my path. I don’t know why they happen, and I don’t need to. They make me smile, feel connected and remind me that even during some pretty difficult times, life still has ways of making me feel like I matter. ❤️

Just remember, we’re all a little lost sometimes and just want to exist without having to fight for anything.

Medical Oncology

All things considered, I’ll take today.

The physician assistant I saw at medical oncology says I’m doing OK. No concerns about the occasional hot flashes. More bloodwork was done, my next three-month Lupron injection is scheduled for November, and I’ll return in two months.

Hopefully, the results of today’s bloodwork will bring more encouraging news.

I think this was the quickest oncology appointment I’ve had since being diagnosed with cancer. And considering some of the treatment discussions I’ve sat through, an uneventful visit feels pretty damn good.

Of course, I couldn’t leave without running into the Grim Reaper.

One doctor’s office down, one to go.

Wednesday, October 14, 2026, 6:30 am

There’s a difference between being alive and living. And I’m still determined to do both.

Which brings me to something I haven’t mentioned yet. I’ve got a podcast interview taping coming up with Dr Slava Abdelrehim. The broadcast is scheduled to air sometime early next year.

‘Chatting with Slava the Jordanian‘ is part of the Mindset Mastery 360 Global Movement. Doc and I have been friends for a number of years, and I am thrilled at the opportunity to talk about my career in writing, heart disease, cancer and what it teaches us about friendships, identity and what really matters in life.

Stay tuned for more.

Heart-to-Heart 11:00 am

Yesterday was medical oncology. Today, it was my heart’s turn to get some attention.

After more than 20 years of living with congestive heart failure, I’ve gotten pretty familiar with cardiology appointments. But that doesn’t mean I take a good report for granted.

First up was Laurence, the St. Jude technician who checked my implanted defibrillator (ICD). Jerry, my usual technician, had the day off. Laurence likes telling jokes, so there was plenty of laughter in the examining room.

The appointment lasted longer than I expected, but I certainly wasn’t complaining. Especially after hearing the results.

My ICD has approximately four years of battery life remaining. No atrial fibrillation was recorded, no episodes were detected, and everything with the device looked good.

I’ll return in three months.

After everything this heart and I have been through, I’ll gladly take an uneventful device check. But there was another part of today’s appointment that meant just as much to me.

My cardiologist asked how things were going with my cancer.

He’s been following my cancer journey closely, and although he’s not an oncologist, he agreed that everything I’ve shared about my treatment and progress sounds encouraging.

That reassurance meant a lot coming from him.

You see, we’ve known each other for more than 20 years. He’s seen me through heart failure, surgeries, procedures, setbacks and more medical appointments than I care to count.

I suppose if I’d invested more than two decades in a patient, I’d want to know how he was doing, too. But somewhere along the way, our doctor-patient relationship became something more.

It became a friendship. And we’ve built a tremendous amount of trust in one another.

He knows my medical history, but more importantly, he knows me. He knows what I’ve been through, how I approach things and how determined I am to keep living my life.

That’s what makes his concern and encouragement so meaningful.

Sometimes we think of doctors simply as the people who examine us, prescribe medications and order tests. But when you’ve spent as much time as I have with the same physician, there’s a history there that goes well beyond what’s written in your medical records.

And I appreciate that.

The Part That Matters

My bloodwork from Tuesday is still pending. I’m not going to pretend I don’t care what the results say. After more than three years of dealing with cancer, those numbers matter.

But they’re not the only things that matter as this past week reminded me of that in more ways than I expected.

There was laughter, love and a little foolishness in Boston. There were vampires in Salem, Christmas ornaments that meant more than their price tags and friendships that reminded me how important the little things can be.

And then there were two medical appointments that, thankfully, gave me some encouraging news.

I also got to spend time with the cardiologist who somewhere along the way became more than my doctor when he became my friend too.

But I’m not going to pretend life is suddenly easy because a couple of appointments went well.

There are still days when the fatigue gets the best of me. Days when a hot flash or two are a pain in the ass. And moments when living with cancer and heart disease feels like carrying something nobody else can fully understand.

Sometimes I’m just tired of fighting and I just want to exist without having to fight for anything. And last week, despite the fatigue and everything else, I got to do a little of that.

For a few days, I wasn’t thinking about the next blood test, the next doctor’s appointment or what another scan might reveal.

I was too busy enjoying myself. And that’s something I want more of.

Living with cancer and heart disease isn’t easy, and I won’t pretend otherwise. But I don’t want either illness to become the whole story of my life. My medical appointments will continue.

However, if there’s one thing this week reminded me, it’s that being there for someone matters. Whether it’s a friend choosing a Christmas ornament, a doctor asking how you’re doing or someone simply making time to share a little happiness.

Those moments matter.

To everyone who’s followed along this week, thank you for being part of mine.

If you want to read more about my cancer fight, click here.

I’ve still got a whole lot of living I intend to do. ❤️

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