Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): Although I am infected with COVID for the third time, I found out yesterday that I could finish radiation treatment on my spine because it is considered “special.” So yesterday I hauled my ass to radiation at 4 pm. Tomorrow is my last radiation treatment. At 4:30 pm, I will be waiting patiently to see my radiologist for one of the last times. I will be DONE. Dunzo. The end. El fin. Complete. However, my Zoladex and oncology appointments all got moved to January 16. Oh well. Those don’t go away so I don’t really care.

Also was nobody going to tell me that I was putting the day count wrong!? Yesterday’s post was in the 100s again. What the fuck.

TO THE LONG VERSION!

On February 22, 2022 I wrote my first blog post titled, “Fuck” one day after I found out I had breast cancer. (You can click on that word if you care to re-read with me.) Honestly, are we surprised that was the title? I’m not. Tears are streaming down my face as I reread my words of uncertainty, of pain, and a tiny pinch of determination. The February 2022 version of Madison had no idea what was coming for her. How could she know? She didn’t. And yet, she found out and is here today, January 5, 2023 to tell the tale.

“Today is going to be a hard day. I’ve got a learning curve ahead of me and a needle fear I have to overcome so fast. So many fucking needles. Fuck.”

Ah, young Madison, so many needles. And so many left to experience! Thank goodness you have a port! I like how that was one of my main concerns, not like how bad chemo would make me feel or the dark and evil nights of constipation that led me to giving myself enemas. It was not the pain of losing my breasts or the awfulness of the steroids. It was not the wackest sunburn I have ever received. No, it was needles. It has always been needles. I am still scared of needles and probably more traumatized by them now. Needles = cancer care.

Gosh I am laughing so hard.

Granted, I did not know how dark hell could get for me so all I could think about was the needle haystack from the “Saw” movies and how that felt like what cancer would be for me. Luckily it was less haystack-y and more feeling shitty and wondering when it would all end. And tomorrow it ends!

At 4 pm, I will be escorted through a backdoor (because ya girl is COVID positive) into the radiation side of the cancer center to get my last spine radiation with my N95 mask in hand. I will get radiated by invisible poison, see the radiologist, and peace the fuck out. I will quietly celebrate alone in the parking lot. My sister has offered to bring me a sushi roll and socially distance celebrate with me as I mark off active treatment on my to-do list in fucking destroying cancer. All that is left is maintenance drugs (hormone blockers and PARP inhibitor for at least three years, maybe longer), scans, and follow ups. And then I will be forced back into the world and be told to act normal.

What is “normal” post-cancer treatment? I don’t even fucking know. I know I have always been a little weird and never would call myself normal but it feels worse now. My life is currently in shambles. I don’t even know where 85% of the pieces are or where to even start. But I am alive. I am here. I won’t dip into that toxic positivity, but fuck I never thought I’d make it and I am grateful that I did.

“I am choosing to keep my story as public as possible….. I hope to learn a lot to help others down the road with this experience and use that knowledge to advocate for better healthcare for all folks.”

The blog isn’t over, but I know it will be winding down in many ways. I hope that I have shared authentically and that you have been open to hearing my experience. I hope that it better equips you if a loved one falls prey to cancer. And I hope you are all doing your monthly checks on your boobies. Please, if you have learned anything, CHECK YOUR BOOBS.

Of course I am cooking up a glossary of terms page and I still have one major blog post I need to cover that I have avoided the WHOLE ENTIRE YEAR: the subject of fertility. It was the one thing I did not want to address and I think I am getting to a point where it is time to share with you all. I don’t how much there is to share but perhaps there are some thoughts there that can better help support other AYAs (and myself) going through treatment.

I want to end this blog the same way I ended my first post. Because I chose to fight and I will keep fighting. Tomorrow is the start of something new.

“I came here to kick ass and chew bubble gum, but I am all out of bubble gum.“

Today’s song lyrics of the day are brought to you by Nina Simone.

“It’s a new dawn
It’s a new day
It’s a new life
For me
And I’m feeling good
I’m feeling good”

– Feeling Good – Bassnectar Remix, Nina Simone, Bassnectar