EVERY October, the world turns pink.

Buildings are illuminated, ribbons are pinned to lapels, social media feeds fill with messages of solidarity, and Breast Cancer Awareness Month becomes a highly visible reminder of a disease that claims far too many lives.

But awareness, however well-intentioned, means little if women cannot access the screening that can save their lives.

That is why the current state of mammography services at the Jamaica Cancer Society (JCS) should concern every Jamaican.

The society’s sole mammogram machine is nonfunctional, forcing hundreds of women who would ordinarily seek screening there to find alternatives — often at considerably greater cost.

This is not merely an inconvenience; it is a public health problem.

For some women, the additional cost of obtaining a mammogram elsewhere will be manageable.

For many others, it will not.

And when a woman must choose between paying an unexpectedly high medical bill and meeting the everyday demands of feeding a family, paying rent, or keeping the lights on, preventive health care can quickly become a postponed expense.

That is where the danger lies.

A mammogram that is delayed today may become a diagnosis made too late tomorrow.

Breast cancer is already the most common cancer among Jamaican women.

Globally, the statistics underscore the scale of the challenge.

The World Health Organization reported that 2.4 million women were diagnosed with breast cancer in 2024, while 694,000 died from the disease.

At the end of that year, 8.2 million women were living with breast cancer.

These are not merely statistics.

Behind every number is a woman, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a wife, a colleague — and a family whose lives can be permanently altered by a diagnosis.

The good news is that early detection can change the equation.

Advances in treatment have improved outcomes, and detecting breast cancer earlier can increase the chances of successful treatment.

But telling women to get screened is not enough.

We must make screening accessible.

That means having functioning mammography equipment.

It means affordable services.

It means reducing, rather than creating, the financial and logistical barriers that discourage women from getting tested.

The situation at the JCS therefore demands more than sympathetic words during October.

It demands action.

If the machine can be repaired, it should be repaired urgently.

If it has reached the end of its useful life, the search for a replacement should not be allowed to languish.

And if the cost of restoring this essential service is beyond the JCS’s immediate means, then this is precisely the kind of situation in which Government, the private sector, philanthropic organisations, and other stakeholders should step forward.

Indeed, there is a troubling disconnect when women are encouraged — quite rightly — to prioritise screening, while one of the country’s key providers of affordable breast-health services is unable to provide that screening.

We must be careful not to turn Breast Cancer Awareness Month into an annual ritual in which we wear pink, share statistics, and celebrate survivors, only to forget the problem when November arrives.

So, yes, let us wear pink, honour survivors, and remember those we have lost.

But let the pink ribbons mean something more.

Let them represent a commitment to ensuring that every woman who needs a mammogram can actually get one.

Because awareness without access is an empty promise.