Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): We are a couple of short months away from some significant milestones: my two year canverversary, one whole year of NEAD, and ditching oral chemo (if all goes to plan!) Oh and another year of meeting my out of pocket deductible very quicky! Booooo. I recognize that my blog updates are few and far between, but I feel repetitive talking about how fucking depressing all of this is sometimes. Plus, there is not much to report in terms of treatment. I survived my most recent zometa infusion for bone density loss. I didn’t get knocked on my ass like last time. And I am still NEAD. I have lymphedema in my hand, but I am currently in physical therapy to help manage it. I’m out here surviving. What more can I say???

Countdown to last day of oral chemo: 45 days

TO THE SHORT VERSION!

I think there is pressure on people to turn every negative into a positive, but we should be allowed to say, ‘I went through something really strange and awful and it has altered me forever.’

Marian Keyes

It seems that 2023 for many of us has been a year of transition, transformation, alteration, processing, pain, and unexpected fluctuation. I would include myself in that group. I can reflect now that for me 2022 was a year dedicated to just simply surviving and 2023 was a year of immense grief and healing. I don’t know how I made it through the year, yet I am here.

How grateful I am to be here.

The farther I get away from my initial cancerversary, the painful days of chemotherapy and radiation, surgery, and my body acclimates to its new normal, cancer just feels more and more like a bad dream. Yet, it has completely transformed my reality into a landscape of unknowns. The cells are dormant in my body. There is no timeline or map to know when, if ever, they will activate and spread once more. Life just feels like one big question mark.

I’m living on borrowed time, but aren’t we all?

The five year survival rate for stage IV breast cancer is 30%. That statistic follows me around like a ghost, especially the farther I get away from the painful memories of 2022. I’m scared to build something that can be taken away from me again. I’m scared to make plans for the future that are more than weeks to a couple of months out. I’m scared to think I could be the 30%. Hope is a beautiful thing, but I never want it to cloud my reality. I am still figuring out the balance between living without fear and the fear of living with a chronic illness that is primed to kill me.

It’s a work in progress.

I like the trend of selecting a word or phrase for the new year to manifest what is to come. I felt like there were a couple that I gravitated towards, but one just felt the most fitting: bravery. No, I am not a brave person. Doing hard things in the name of cancer doesn’t mean I am brave. But I recognize that I have to keep moving forward and the fear of planning for a future that is more unknown than I could ever imagine cannot be a barrier to me thriving. I have a feeling that 2024 will be a year of hard choices, filled with moments of facing what has happened to me head on. Life requires some bravery for me to continue to endure.

Endure I must.

The year ahead is also filled with promise: oral chemotherapy ending, the option to undergo reconstruction, my second cancerversary, and a little special trip to Europe. Yup, I booked a trip to Europe in September! Look at me making plans and shit! I won’t lie, it literally was the hardest decision EVER to choose to book so far out but I fucking did it.

But that little voice of fear in the back of my mind is still there.

Quitting oral chemotherapy is scary. Technically, when you are a stage IV patient you stick with your line of treatment until it fails and then you move on to the next available option. My oncologist and I talked about this two weeks ago and although this line has not failed, she feels like I can come off of it as scheduled. I’m scared of recurrence, especially when I am finally tolerating the medication so well, but I also don’t want to be on oral chemo forever. I mean, I could if I had to, but I really like the idea that I will get to know my body not on chemo. And then of course at the same time, what if I have recurrence and then I regret not just staying on it? The decision will be a gamble. February both excites me and terrifies me at the same time.

2024 will be a big year. I just hope to make it out alive.

Today’s song lyrics of the day are brought to you by Kanye West.

“Damn
Here we go again
But everything I’m not made me everything I am”

– Everything I am, Kanye West