Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): Another week down of radiation! I passed the quarter of the way mark for treatment. Next Monday I will hit the halfway mark! I also had an MRI on my spine to look at the pesky lesions once more last Wednesday and received results the next day. Although today is Sunday, I had a special session of radiation since it is a holiday week. I was asked if I wanted to shave a day off the end of my treatment by coming in today and I said, “heck yes!” I brought the techs some cheese, fig spread, and crackers as a thank you for serving patients today. My techs are growing on me. *Gasp* But don’t worry, the chemo nurses still have my heart.

TO THE LONG VERSION!

I am a creature of habit. Routine is my favorite because it implies stability. Maybe that is why I have found some comfort in both chemo and radiation, or as much comfort as one can find while getting poisoned. You know your schedule, it is the same folks, and you do the same things over and over again. Radiation is even more repetitive and although it is a pain in my ass to drive every single fucking day to the cancer center, I am greeted by staff who are starting to remember me and crack jokes.

I also have a new habit of picking the same locker every single day. We have a little changing area, a la high school gym lockers, except less smelly and not in a high school. And way nicer. And there are no people bullying you. Okay, so nothing like a high school gym locker but it sort of reminded me of that, okay? I always pick locker #2. There are ten lockers to choose from, all with a key and a stretchy bracelet attached. I like this locker because the bracelet is pink. Keeping with the same number also helps my chemo brain. Even if I did forget, there are only so many of us there at the same time and I am sure it would just be a matter of a process of elimination. Ah, I am glad some things about myself have not changed.

From here on out, my radiation time will be at 9:45 am every day. My new last day of chemo is now December 19. Now, normally Tuesdays patients see the radiologist after treatment but mine was moved to today for some reason. But before I get into that appointment, we have to talk about my MRI.

Okay, so timeline: February 21, 2022 I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I started chemo March 17 and sometime between that period of time I had scans done to learn more about where the cancer was and how big it was. During those scans, we saw some tiny specks on my spine. My oncologist had told me if it was cancer, the chemo would kick it. Fast forward to scans I did in August (or was it July? I honestly cannot remember at this point) and the specks had grown. Not cool and also not consistent with cancer given my other tumors had shrunk. And now we are at present day and the radiologist had ordered two types of MRIs on my spine: thoracic and lumbar. She wanted a better look to see exactly where we might be radiating.

Now the MRI for the most part was uneventful. It was at the hospital, the MRI tech seemed bored out of his mind, and didn’t seem into my jokes so I really tried to keep the small talk to a minimum. I chose EDM once again for my music of choice and learned that music just seems fucking pointless during an MRI because the machine is so fucking loud. I ended up playing mind games with myself during my MRI to guess what song was playing and then being totally surprised between loud sounds to learn that my guesses were always wrong. I also learned that wearing a suede top to a non contrast MRI is a poor choice when you are in menopause. Basically it was a nonstop 30 minute hot flash and I could not fucking move. I hated it and I hate menopause.

Thursday around 10 am I got my results. Of course I am always at work when I get results and I read them like an idiot hoping that the news I consume doesn’t end with me in tears. This time was no exception. Here is what my reports read:

1. Significant decrease in size of the lesion within L1 with change in signal characteristics within the L1, L3, and L4 lesions. This examination was performed without IV contrast, which limits the ability to assess for metastatic disease; however, given the change over time in the setting of breast cancer, I favor this to represent treatment effect on metastatic lesions. No new or worsening lesions are appreciated on STIR imaging. If there is continued clinical concern for metastasis, or further imaging is desired, a contrast enhanced examination or PET-CT could be considered for further evaluation. 2. The described lesion in the T9 vertebral body on prior CT correlates to a tiny focus of T1 and T2 hypointensity without visibility on STIR sequences. This follows a similar pattern as the lesions in the lumbar spine, and I suspect this represents treatment effect within a metastatic lesion. 3. No new or enlarging osseous metastases or appreciated soft tissue metastases are seen on this study, allowing for the absence of IV contrast. 4. Minimal degenerative changes of the lumbar spine with no high-grade central or foraminal stenosis appreciated.

I will spare you the Googling and decipher the doctor speak for you because I also got to see my scans today (both previous and recent.) Essentially all spots we have seen on prior imaging have shrunk and no new lesions have decided to fuck around and find out. This means that chemotherapy worked! Why the lesions did not shrink until now is a mystery that I could ask my oncologist about later. But the fact that they shrunk is consistent with metastasis aka cancer aka stage IV breast cancer.

Now, my assigned radiologist is out right now so I am meeting with her peer. She is nice, but not super familiar with my case. She was cool though and we looked at the scans today and I asked her if this means stage IV and she said that she would share the results with my other radiologist and oncologist so that they can discuss that together. So for now nobody is wanting to say definitively that what is in my spine is cancer, but they are all hinting that it is and will treat me as such. Ok….

Anyway. So I am just stuck in cancer purgatory but honestly I believe I am stage IV and I am working on coming to grips with that. If later they say, “JK YOU ARE NOT STAGE IV!” then we can rejoice and just ignore all the mental preparation. I just would rather come to terms with this now so I can start planning a cool funeral. I mean, I know I am not ~currently~ dying, but eventually breast cancer will kill me if it is stage IV (which in my brain it is) and that is dark. Who will I give my makeup collection to? Who inherits all of my TJ Maxx finds? I have to get my affairs in order, people!!!!

All jokes aside, this is not a joke and the more I come to terms with my cancer journey NEVER ending and ending me, I think the sooner I can move on to living my best life. Is there an adult equivalent of the Make a Wish foundation? Can I wish for a new spine? I do hope technology improves and maybe I can be bionic or maybe turn into a living octopus. Or maybe both, like Doc Ock in Spiderman!!! But honestly I won’t hold my breath. Only 3-5% of research goes towards stage IV and that is pretty fucked up. The healthcare system hates people with cancer. We are out here dying and the world is like “meh.” Fuckers.

Today’s song lyrics of the day are brought to you by Papa Roach.

“‘Cause I’m losin’ my sight, losin’ my mind
Wish somebody would tell me I’m fine
Losin’ my sight, losin’ my mind
Wish somebody would tell me I’m fine”

– Last Resort, Papa Roach