We've made it through another Pinktober (is that a word yet?). I don't know why, but it felt a little less pink to me this year. Maybe I didn't pay as much attention. Maybe it felt different because I'm now a little closer to being terminal, metaphorically speaking.
I don't know if there is a term for being a metastatic breast cancer survivor -- or am I simply still a survivor? Either way, I have made it through my first metastatic survival year still left with the hope for a cure, although the hope has now diminished just a little.