Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): Today would have marked two days until chop chop… but life has other plans for me now…

TO THE SHORT VERSION!

If you’ve been a loyal follower or my friend for more than the past two years, you know I have been a COVID long hauler since December 2020. I had the OG COVID strain, the one that took away your smell and taste and fucked you up for days, or in my case years. Since then, I have dealt with parosmia, a condition that has left foods tasting abnormal and often times disgusting. I am three months short of my two year anniversary with this condition and most foods are back to normal, but not all.

Fast forward to July of this year and in a cruel trick of punishment, I contracted COVID the last week of chemo, delaying my treatment out a week. I lost my smell and taste for a few days before it returned. It sent me into a panic. I had come so far since my first infection!

That was six weeks ago yesterday. Yesterday I had my pre-surgery COVID test and today I got my results.

I tested positive for COVID-19. PLOT FUCKING TWIST.

I have ZERO symptoms and it is very possible to test positive for COVID weeks after infection. I have been off chemo for five weeks as of this Thursday and my immune system is in normal range, but still climbing. But these results have delayed my much needed surgery to next Thursday, September 15. Most likely surgery will be in the afternoon according to the nurse who called today. I won’t have to test again for COVID before surgery, but fuck. You’ve got to be kidding me.

On one hand I am grateful to have another week with my derpy boobs and I get to spend it exercising and enjoying life. Starting Thursday, I am off until October 3 and then I will evaluate whether or not I can start working from home post-surgery. I am excited to spend some time on “vacation” and collecting my thoughts before surgery. Maybe I will pull some weeds in my yard. Maybe I will do some soul searching. Who’s to say? The world will be my oyster for a few days. On the other hand, it is a race against time at this point to remove the tumors. They need to go. We don’t want any more metastasis happening.

The countdown to chop chop is now back up to nine days. How is that for some shit random luck? Fuck you, COVID. Fuck you.

Today’s song lyrics of the day are brought to you by Fall Out Boy.

“Sometimes the only payoff for having any faith
Is when it’s tested again and again every day
I’m still comparing your past to my future
It might be your wound, but they’re my sutures”

– Immortals, Fall Out Boy

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): We are three days away from chop chop aka my double mastectomy surgery. The anxiety is starting to set in. HELLO FEELINGS. I had my pre-surgery COVID test this morning and a nurse called me this past Friday to go over pre-surgery questions. Looks like I am just about ready to go under the knife, or at least legally ready. Not sure about emotionally. How does one prepare for a surgery like this? Is it even possible?

ALSO! My hair is growing back! I have little peach fuzzies on my head and I can see nubs growing in on my eyelash line. Yay hair!

Sidenote: A sweet friend of mine created a meal train to support me after surgery. If this interests you, you can click here to sign up.

TO THE LONG VERSION!

Growing up, my sister and I were obsessed with this online game called Neopets. If you’re reading this and you’re under the age of 30, you might have been equally obsessed or at least played. This game was HUGE in the early 2000’s, so huge that McDonalds had Neopets toys in their kid’s meals. Neopets is basically this virtual game with pets and an online universe to play in. That is overly simplified, but you get the gist.

I think ‘obsession’ is the perfect word to describe how my sister and I felt about this game. We were so obsessed with playing that one time my mom told us we were grounded from playing Neopets and we protested with signs on our doors. SIGNS. WE PROTESTED IN OUR OWN HOME. I am not sure if my mom found this witty, inspiring, or just really terrible. I will have to ask her. But our passion for this virtual game ran deep. It is how we learned HTML coding. It was how we learned the very basics of graphic design by using Microsoft Paint and a scanner to manipulate images. I mean, it was not all educational, but we took some interesting life skills out of it.

There was this game called Tiki Tak Tombola. Everyone loves the Tiki Tack Tombola! It is basically a raffle and you can play once a day. Sometimes you might be awarded prizes or Neopoints (Neopets currency) or sometimes nothing at all. Sometimes if you pulled a losing ticket, you would be awarded a booby prize. Those prizes were like bottles of sand or gross food. There is only 20% chance of getting a winning ticket, so let’s just say that bottles of sand were plentiful and worthless.

I was doing dishes in the kitchen when that memory popped into my brain and I started laughing…. and then crying. My booby prize for having breast cancer is having my breasts removed. Luck of the draw. I thought the pun was punny and unlike bottles of sand, this surgery has purpose and worth, but it is an awful fucking outcome of something I never asked for. Not like anyone asks for cancer or mutated genes anyways.

I keep finding myself doing strange rituals with my boobs. I note moments when it is the last time I am doing an activity with my boobs. Last time getting groceries with my boobs. Last time hugging a friend with my boobs. Last time putting on a sports bra with my boobs. Last time nipping out in public. I am well aware that I will have reconstruction, but it is so far away and they will never be the same. They won’t have sensation. They won’t have nipples. I will never be able to breast feed. They will be just little bags of fat created from my stomach, hanging off my body for aesthetic purposes. They will be reminders of the destruction my body is capable of and a reminder that the threat continues to lurk in my DNA. The war will never end in my body, but there will be breaks and I so need a fucking break.

I like my boobs. They are derpy and I have learned to live with them most of my life. One is bigger than the other. I cannot wrap my mind around the concept of losing them, that there will be a day very soon that I will look down and not be annoyed by them pressing up against the buttons of my blouse, threatening to expose themselves and flash a stranger. Soon, blouses will not fit right because there is nothing there. It seems like an emotional mindfuck and a dramatic way to remind myself and everyone around me that I am a cancer patient. I cannot remove that identity, but I can disguise it if I want.

Despite the shittiness of this impending doom of a situation, I do have a couple things I am looking forward to about this surgery, believe it or not. I am excited to know what it is like to run without boobs and not invest in bras for a year (unless I want to disguise my flat chest or give some sort of structure to outfits.) I wonder if I will run faster? What will it feel like to not feel my chest anymore? Should I get a dope chest piece done? Solves the painful needle problem!

For now, I am trying to be intentional and take in the final moments with my ticking time bombs. I took them for their last run this morning and we went to Body Pump for the last time yesterday. I feel so sentimental.

I have been pushing myself to the extreme to see where I stand athletically. I went to Body Pump TWICE this weekend back-to-back and I went up Badger Mountain on the hard one mile side this morning. The fact I did all of that over the weekend is a good sign. Climbing Badger was challenging, and I had to stop once since I felt like I was a little queasy from the heat, but to my surprise I made it and I was not as slow as I had anticipated. I ran portions of the two mile side down, but struggled to maintain because the neuropathy in my feet is so bad. Running and not being able to feel your feet or knees is AWFUL. It felt like there were little weights on my knees and ankles. It took way more mental strength to encourage my body to lift each leg in motion. Pump was a fucking delight. I love weight lifting and I cannot wait until I get cleared for lifting after surgery.

Exercising has been my therapy for the last couple of years. It has kept me sane and it has given me new goals to strive for. I tried to maintain some sort of exercise during chemo. Some weeks were easier than others. I just have to remind myself that if I can do 8 weeks of red devil chemo, and barely exercise, I can do 6 weeks of post-surgery healing.

I want to wrap this up for the day so I can have more to report back on, but my hair is growing back! Similar to the order of how I lost my hair (my head and my pubic hair followed by everything else), it would appear that is the same order it is returning. My head hair cracks me up. I literally look like the creepy doll thing from Toy Story, minus the fact I do have both of my eyes still. I am just a misunderstood toy.

Today’s song lyrics of the day are brought to you by Flux Pavillion.

“I cannot hold you anymore
So am I next to close the door?

– Cannot Hold You, Flux Pavillion (feat. Jamie Lidell)

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): We are 10 days away from chop chop surgery. I am not emotionally ready for what is to come. I mean, how can I be? I met with my oncologist on Friday and got more clarification about my spine, which is both good news and unsettling news. More on that in a bit. In cooler news, I treated myself to a mini chemomoon and visited a friend in Seattle for the weekend. The last couple of days felt like the highlight of my summer!

TO THE LONG VERSION!

This past weekend was the first time since my diagnosis that I did not think nonstop about the cancer in my body. I experienced a glimpse of who I was before February 21 and a glimpse of who I am becoming. I am like a little butterfly emerging from a cocoon, except there is like a massive bug waiting outside of the cocoon I need to outsmart first before I can be truly free (surgery analogy). Those two versions of me do have the desire for travel and new experiences in common, which I am glad has only grown in intensity and craving. That might be because I have not been able to go anywhere all summer or it might just be because I have learned how short life is and I am ready to continue consuming the best of what the world has to offer while I still have a vessel of a body on this earth.

I considered this trip to Seattle a mini chemomoon. It was a small taste of adventure to keep me motivated to endure the Everest of a mountain I have to climb next Thursday and a nice way to celebrate the poison I’ve consumed. My next chemomoon is in December and I will be headed to glamorous Los Angeles for a DJ set featuring two of my favorite artists and (fingers crossed) going to Disneyland. More on that later.

BUT SEATTLE. I love visiting Seattle! I drove up Friday afternoon to stay with a good friend of mine and it was just pure bliss. It was so nice to not have any plans and to just go with whatever we felt like doing. What we felt like doing included spending most of our Friday evening chatting over beers at a pub minutes away from her house, visiting the Modern Museum of Pop, and trying 33 flavors of ice cream at an ice cream festival. Oh and of course we ate delicious things. I had sushi for the first time since chemo started (sashimi specifically) since I wasn’t allowed to consume raw fish during chemo, so that was a special treat yo’self moment. Oh and I had a bloody Mary with one of my breakfasts. I miss simple moments like that. Vodka at 10 am. Yum. Although I could never live in Seattle, I have to say they have the coolest things to do. It was the perfect reset of a weekend and a wonderful way to connect with someone who means so much to me.

PHOTO INTERMISSION! Side note: I went bald most of the weekend in Seattle. It was SO NICE. I feel like if I did that in the Tri-Cities someone would say something weird to me. (One time when I had pink and orange hair someone in the TC asked me if I ate too many Skittles… it is always men making strange comments about my hair…) But in Seattle, I just blended in with all the other unique hair styles there and not once did I ever catch someone looking at me. It was quite freeing.

Before leaving for Seattle, I had my special little one-on-one meeting with my oncologist. It is so funny to me that I crave her approval and compliments about my tumors. Like Friday, she told me she was very pleased with the reduction of my breast and lymph node tumors. And until I have surgery, the chemo left in my body will continue to work its magic. I felt like all the fuckery I endured was worth it to see my scans show that my tumors are almost gone. She literally could have patted me on my little bald head at that moment and I would have been so pleased. Then she brought up the spine images. So here is why biopsying isn’t on the table right now: whatever lesion is growing in my L1 vertebrae is positioned deep enough into the bone that it would be very challenging to biopsy. And she feels like even if they did a biopsy and it came back negative, she would not trust the results because there is no guarantee that they hit the spot they want to biopsy. The lesion on my T9 vertebrae lesion is basically a speck. For now, we wait. I see her again on September 15, a week after surgery, and will also have a Zoladex injection that day.

Other things we discussed are the daily pills I will start soon. One is basically an oral chemo and another is to help suppress the estrogen in my body. I don’t have a ton of information about those yet, so I will share more when I know more.

Keeping with the trend of blogging about things in reverse chronological order, Thursday I got to experience something I didn’t even know was on my bucket list but now is checked off: riding in the stagecoach during the rodeo at the fair! I was invited to represent the Tri-Cities Cancer Center at the Tough Enough To Wear Pink night at the rodeo! That invite included sitting in the fancy tent eating catered food and riding in the stagecoach as they read my bio to the audience. Talk about an insane honor! I felt like a little rodeo cancer princess. Oh and I got to bring Sue with me. We had a ton of fun and it was an experience I didn’t know was possible. My heart was overflowing with gratitude and we both felt like we were on a fun high, you know the kind that makes you giggle a lot and keep saying, “Wow, we are so lucky.” It was one of THOSE nights.

I have to say that the fair folks are so incredibly kind and hospitable. The rodeo director drove us around in his little golf cart to the bathroom and my car so I wouldn’t have to walk as much. LIKE HOW NICE IS THAT. We capped off the evening with an elephant ear from the Rotary club booth, a pineapple Dole whip cup, and a quick walk around to see all the rides lit up. It was a grand way to start the weekend.

Now that my Cinderella fun pumpkin has disappeared, I am back to reality and have a total of seven working days before I am not in the office for a while. The pressure is on to complete a lot of stuff before I am at home crying over my breastless chest. For now, I marinate in how wonderful the last couple of days have been. I have to remind myself that losing my boobs is going to suck hard mentally for a while, but hopefully that won’t feel like forever and I can someday enjoy what I have enjoyed this weekend once more.

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

“I ain’t worried ’bout it
Hey!

I don’t know what you’ve been told
But time is running out, so spend it like it’s gold
I’m living like I’m nine-zeros
Got no regrets, even when I’m broke, yeah”

– I Ain’t Worried, OneRepublic

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): We are 16 days away from chop chop. I meet with my oncologist this Friday. I am guessing we will be discussing surgery, next steps, and my CT scan results. On a more fun note, I will be part of a little display during the rodeo in support of the Tri-Cities Cancer Center Thursday evening. I have no idea what I am doing but I am excited to be part of whatever is planned! I am also going to Seattle this weekend to visit a friend and look forward to relaxing a bit before I am trapped in my mental personal hell.

TO THE LONG VERSION!

I only go to the fair if I can score free tickets. It is a fun game I play with my co-worker/good friend every year. We somehow have managed to score them for the last several years (excluding the last two years due to the pandemic) and we always do the same thing: visit all the animals and get an elephant ear from the Rotary booth. It is a nice little tradition. We don’t ride any of the rides. We don’t play games. We just have one goal and that is to smell like a cow and be covered in sweet cinnamon sugar crumbles.

This year I am visiting the fair without her because she is having brain surgery tomorrow for the second time. I will have to eat an elephant ear in her honor on Thursday. If anyone has free tickets next year, let us know so we can treat ourselves to surviving another year of our bodies wanting to kill us. I think we deserve it.

I’ve had a hard time wanting to blog lately. Life feels like being stuck in a blender and someone keeps adding shit. You wonder when enough is enough in this shit smoothie. Cancer. Death. Pain. All mixed in with coconut milk to make palatable. How else will you swallow and accept what has happened? I don’t want to accept a lot of it, but this is reality. Time to drink up. There has been a lot to process and a lot I don’t think I quite know how to put into words still.

There was a moment at the funeral last week when folks from the audience were given time to stand up and share a quick story about my aunt. As the stories flowed, I knew I was going to stand up. I coached myself through my story and I felt confident I could share it tear-free and quickly so that other folks may be encouraged to share after me. The room was packed, with people standing outside of the seated room. I stood up, said who I was, and how I was related and boom… tears streamed down my face and choked me. But the most unexpected thing happened: my uncle walked over, hugged me, and held my hand the entire time I shared the final memories I had with my aunt. I shared when she stole my chemo pod and our last interaction on July 14. It was a powerful moment that was the closest I can describe as feeling cathartic and healing.

Sharing those stories felt like leeching myself and sucking out the pain. Nobody in that room except for maybe my mom and anyone else with cancer could possibly understand the strangeness of the bond that comes between two people experiencing cancer together. We hated that we were doing chemo together. It was fucked up, but we were doing it together.

I’ve talked about it before feeling like a windowed box lowered into hell. I am trapped in the box and everyone is outside of the box, watching and cheering me on, but ultimately it is a journey and a battle I make alone. And it also feels like constantly walking with death, maybe even gambling with the reaper. Although my aunt and I never discussed this, we didn’t have to. We knew. At any time the cells can erupt and become unpredictable and uncontrollable, a violence that is unforgivable. The unforgivable happened to her and we were once again reminded of our mortality and the preciousness of life on this planet and in this lifetime.

Death is awful and funerals are sad, but I will say it was nice to see my family gathered together. Folks came up to me after the service, sending well wishes as I fight cancer, which I felt awkward about since I had to out myself having cancer in order to share my stories about my aunt. I really try not to talk about my cancer in public since I am not trying to get pity or anything, it just is this stupid thing I happen to be going through.

One lady came up to me and asked, “Are you the woman with the breast cancer?” I want to make that my bio everywhere now. It made me laugh. My favorite part of the service was when my younger sister and I were judging the desserts and deciding which ones we wanted to sample when we accidentally brushed a woman behind us. We were apologetic and her response was wild: “I haven’t had that much action in ten years!” We busted out laughing and Cassidy offered to make another pass at her but she either didn’t hear her response or rejected the weird funeral flirtation. Either way, it was a memorable highlight.

Most of my weekend was spent with family since my older sister flew in for the funeral but I am getting back into the rhythm of exercise. I did something nuts: I went to a BodyPump class Saturday for the first time in four and a half months, a mere 16 days after my last chemo. It was EXHILARATING! No doubt it was hard and I am struggling with motor coordination, speed, and stamina, but I only missed a handful of reps. I used warm up weight the whole time but damn I was proud of my body!! I have plans to go once more on September 3 before my chop chop surgery for anyone who wants to come. I have ambitions of climbing the hard side of Badger Mountain once before surgery as well, but it really just depends on my toe nail that needs to fall off. Shoes hurt right now with it still semi intact.

I am entering a season of grief and learning that in love there is grief and that this healing process I am in (physically, mentally, and spiritually) is not linear. I have more to endure and that is to come, but all I can do is process what I can and take each day one day at a time.

Today’s song lyrics of the day are brought to you by Florence and the Machine.

“And the only solution was to stand and fight
And my body was bruised and I was set alight
But you came over me like some holy rite
And although I was burning, you’re the only light
Only if for a night”

– Only If For A Night, Florence and the Machine

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): Today was my aunt Lynda’s funeral. I realized I slacked and did not update the blog with new information about the services, but it has been a rollercoaster of a week. I have updates about surgery and my spine, so let’s get into it!

TO THE SHORT VERSION!

I wish I had a clever way to start today’s blog but I am emotionally empty. Today I am serving up mostly facts so that I can go to bed early. Grief is exhausting. Mix that with my body still trying to repair itself from chemo and you have a very sleepy potato. I feel like one of those pool nets catching bugs. The bugs are feelings and the water is the day passing through you. I am a net full of bugs. Cute.

I saw the surgeon on Thursday. It is weird that he is oddly hot. I have never had a hot doctor before. And it is even weirder to have somebody hot go immediately to second base on a medical level with you to examine your boobs. I was cleared for my double mastectomy surgery which will take place on September 8. Moving forward, I will fondly call this day “chop chop.” We did ask if they used a guillotine to remove my breast tissue or if it was less medieval. We got a brief lecture on the removal and he drew all over my boob to show us the incision. I am happy to report it is a bit more methodical and doesn’t involve slicing and dicing me for an omelette. The surgery is roughly two hours in length and it is an outpatient procedure, meaning I go home same-day. I will have drains for a couple of weeks and will be off work for at least two weeks healing. If you’re bored, come visit me.

You may be asking yourself, “BUT WHAT ABOUT THE POTENTIAL SPINE METS?” Ah yes, my spicy little spine. The surgeon’s nurse got ahold of my oncologist during my appointment and she said she wants to watch them for now… Now before that update, the surgeon did say it would be highly unusual for my breast and lymph node tumors to shrink but not a potential spine tumor during chemo. I am just surprised to not even get a biopsy at this time. I see my oncologist next Friday so I will ask more questions since I am not satisfied with this answer.

I plan to share more tomorrow about today’s funeral but today was a weird ass day. I got into my car this morning to go to the cancer center for my blood draw at 7:45 am and as I turned on my car, I realized the steering wheel wouldn’t turn. I turned off the car and turned it back on and the battery light turned on and the steering wheel still was locked. I called Jose in a panic and he asked me to see if any fluid was leaking. There wasn’t until after I got off the phone. Long story short, tonight we discovered that the serpentine belt fell off and there is radiator fluid spilling everywhere and something else popped off, but I don’t remember anymore (Jose has taken over this project for me.) A few phone calls later and my car was towed by Jose’s friend and is safely awaiting a biopsy and surgery of its own kind. It was a stressful way to start the day.

And then today was also a Zoladex injection day. It was my first Zoladex beyond chemo and a glimpse into every month for the next five years. I should make a countdown of how many stomach shots I have left and how many days until chop chop.

21 days until chop chop. Ick.

More tomorrow about the funeral. I need rest.

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

“Oh yeah, woah-oh
The world’s a roller coaster and I am not strapped in
Maybe I should hold with care, but my hands are busy in the air saying
I wish you were here
I wish you were here”

– Wish You Were Here, Incubus

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): I received the results of my CT scan on Friday morning around 10 am. Want to know the results? Of course you do. I guess you will have to read the post to learn more! I meet with the surgeon on Tuesday and have a wonderful Zoladex stomach injection on Thursday. I thought I would be feeling a lot perkier these days being a week and three days post-chemo, but I just feel… weird. The neuropathy is heavy in my fingers and my body just feels strange randomly. I don’t feel super shitty, just a little shitty and honestly out of it.

There will be a viewing for my aunt on Wednesday and a funeral on Saturday, I believe. Once I get more information I will share it here if there are folks who knew her following this blog and you’d like to attend.

TO THE LONG VERSION!

I’ve never had strong eyebrows. I can’t tell if it is a long term result of the over plucking in the early 2000’s or if it is genetics. I am willing to bet genetics since my mom doesn’t have a ton either. In 2019, I made the bold choice to get my eyebrows microbladed. For someone who hates needles, that was an interesting decision on my end but actually it was pretty fucking amazing and I would recommend it to anyone. It was relatively painless, involved a ton of lidocaine, and gave me a little confidence boost.

I am way over due for a touch up, but damn am I sure glad that they are still there on my face because all of my little eyebrow hairs aside from four little stragglers are long gone. About 60% of my prized eyelashes are gone and I would say that most of my arm hairs have disappeared, too. I think it is safe to say I am officially a naked mole rat. I hope in the couple of months I start to turn into a Chia Pet. I have enjoyed being bald (sorta) but my little bald head will probably not enjoy winter, so cue the hair growing. And once I get cleared for tattoos, I am definitely getting my eyebrows redone. Treat yo self!

Speaking of growing things, I finally lost my first toe nail. Pour one out for the right big toe nail homie. I woke up on Thursday morning and that toe nail was literally VERTICAL on my cuticle bed. No, it didn’t hurt; it just finally separated enough. I noticed it was hanging on by a tiny portion of the cuticle, so I tried to snip it off with scissors and nail clippers, but my fine motor coordination is really impaired, so that didn’t work. I did the next best thing: twisted it. It didn’t hurt, it was just weird to watch. For a minute my nail was like the girl in the movie “Exorcist.” It turned itself around and you just cannot believe your eyes, but you have to watch in horror. And I have to be the one who does it. A little maneuvering and a little tug later and my nail popped off. Right now my big toe looks like one of the thumb characters from “Spy Kids.” Whoever came up with that fucked up character had a wild imagination. If you want to see pics of my vertical toenail or what it looks like now, feel free to text me. I didn’t want to freak people out here since I guess missing toenails are on the list of consent images.

Okay, on to the main event: CT scan results. Um. Yeah…. Here is a screenshot of what was in my chart:

So. Let’s break this down. The good news is that the lymph node tumor is basically gone. I went from .9 cm to .3 (.35 inches to .11 inches) so it is weird it says it is resolved in the scan. To me, any disease left is NOT resolved, but who knows what this means in doctorland. The okay-ish news is that my breast tumor decreased by half. It went from 2.8 cm to 1.4 cm (1.1 inches to .55 inches.) I am not sure if this is going to please my oncologist or not, but I am guessing she wanted it to be smaller. We will see. And of course the bad news: increased lesions suspicious for metastatic disease on my L1 vertebrae and new lesions on my T9 vertebrae. If you recall from way back in March, we saw suspicious lesions in my scans, but they were too small to biopsy and I had started treatment. My oncologist said if it was cancer, the chemo would kick it. And here we are five months later and the lesions are growing and spreading. My oncologist was not in on Friday, so I am hoping she will review my scans this week and give me a call and not make me wait until August 26 when I am supposed to see her next to discuss next steps. Do we biopsy? Are they big enough to biopsy? Does she suspect they are cancerous? Why is it spreading? Should I be scared? I mean, I am scared. The scan does not report size, which makes me think that they are still too small to biopsy, but I literally know nothing so I really should stop assuming.

So I sit in cancer purgatory once more and hope that whatever is coming my way next doesn’t kill me and is resolvable.

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

“Keep pushing on, things are gonna get better
It won’t take long, keep on moving to the top
Keep on move it, move it
Gotta keep on move it to the top
Keep on pushing, pushing”

– Keep Pushin’ (feat. Inaya Day), Tujamo, Inaya Day

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): Today I had my CT scan. Fingers crossed that there are no new growths and that the tumors I do have are gone or on their way out the door. I also have depressing as fuck news to share with everyone, so keep reading if you want to be depressed with me.

TO THE LONG VERSION!

July 14, 2022. Chemo number 14 for me. I had a new routine of visiting my aunt in her chemo pod as I waited for my chemos to be delivered. It was nice to see a familiar face during treatment, but the reality that the two of us were getting chemo together was kind of fucked up and weird. Her chemos were spaced 21 days apart while mine were weekly. It gave me something to look forward to since I liked leaving my pod to be chatty. And lucky for me, my aunt was a chatty lady.

My aunt was incredibly thin. Her arms were bones with paper skin on top. She seemed ghostly, her freckles more prominent than usual, but she still had her energetic voice. Her dark hair was growing back, a stark contrast on her head. I wish we had talked about anything but our cancers, but what else do you talk about when this is the only thing consuming your life? She was looking forward to traveling to Seattle for stem cell treatment. Her one year cancer anniversary was coming up in September. She told me of various grants I could apply for if I needed financial assistance during treatment. Despite the shitty situations we were in, we found ways to be helpful to one another during this mutually shared fucked up experience. We talked about similar side effects like our joints giving way as we walked and our time with the red devil. We both hated we were there, but these were our fights.

I hate that the last conversation I had with her was on that day and I said, “I will be back soon to visit. I need to go see if my premeds are done.” I didn’t come back. There ended up being a fire drill and a therapy dog visit. My friend and I had brought weird scones to share with everyone and the day just felt so long and exhaustive that we left without saying goodbye. I am not sure if she was still there when I left or not, but I wish I would have looked because it is the last memory I have of her now.

My aunt passed away yesterday. And I am having a really hard time with it. I don’t want to make this about me or center myself, but it feels oddly traumatic and it feels like another reminder that the cancer in me could kill me too. My aunt and I were not super close (which there are reasons why and I am trying to come to terms with those reasons now in the wake of this aftermath) but we shared this very unique journey together. They were brief moments in the span of our lifetimes, but they were moments I have kept in my imaginary cancer memory jar. I am trying to make sense of the feelings I feel right now but they feel like scrambled eggs that won’t come together to form little pillowy egg balls.

My older sister called me at 6 pm last night to share the news as I was driving to a friends house for an end-of-chemo celebration dinner. How the fuck do you celebrate after news like that? The emotional space provided by my friends that evening was so kind. Several of us there were going through situations of loss in various ways, so we chose to toast to celebrating the life we have left here on earth because it is so fucking short and to those who are no longer here with us on this journey.

As I drove home, a lightning storm decorated the sky. I have never seen the sky light up nonstop for so long. Half was covered in clouds, glowing from within while the stars and full moon sat and watched. There was no rain and no thunder, just the constant strikes and a summer breeze. I am not a very religious person, but I like to believe that the lightning was my aunt upset that cancer fucking did this shit. I mean she wasn’t an angry lady, so maybe I am projecting my anger into this narrative, but she was mad last night. Not mad in a violent way, but a way that told you that she was upset. And if there is a heaven or an afterlife or a space where souls collide, I hope she is with her daughter because that is the only thing that brings me comfort at this time.

I’ll miss my aunt’s famous Christmas enchiladas and bunko parties. I will miss her commenting praise on every Halloween photo I share (she loved Halloween.) And I will miss the opportunity I could have had to be a better, more present niece.

The last two years have been rocked with too many urgent texts and calls learning of cancer diagnosis and updates and deaths in our family. If cancer could leave my family alone, that would be fucking nice.

Today’s song lyrics of the day are brought to you by Garth Brooks.

“Thunder rolls
And the lightnin’ strikes
Another love grows cold
On a sleepless night
As the storm blows on, out of control
Deep in her heart
The thunder rolls”

– The Thunder Rolls, Garth Brooks

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): I am still tired from my final chemo. My fingers are heavy with neuropathy. I have a CT scan on Thursday to track the progress of my tumors and to make sure that nothing else decided to grow during treatment. Cue scanxiety. I am nervous to discover whether or not the spots on my spine were indeed cancerous little fucks and nervous to see where the disease is in my body. I will meet with my surgeon next Tuesday to discuss surgery.

TO THE SHORT VERSION!

“You don’t have cancer, do you?” my neighbor asked me as I got into my friend’s car Saturday afternoon. “Yeah… yeah I do,” I said sadly. He shook his head and told me his wife just had open heart surgery and that he prays that God is looking down on both of us. The message was sweet but I felt bad since I had been avoiding my neighbor for this reason. I felt like for him to know I have cancer just made it feel more real, which is dumb given I have had it for five months and everyone else knows. This man I barely know is the last to find out and I feel bad I didn’t tell him sooner. Somehow confirming his curiosity as a neighbor who cares, who wants to be my friend and maybe even like gift give during the holiday season or borrow sugar when he has none, just felt like too much. He was the first person I didn’t know well to actually ask me about my cancer and for some reason that just made my cancer feel so real in that moment.

It is hard to explain. I don’t think I am in denial about my cancer or what I have already endured. But sometimes I just have to live my life for the day and try to find some sense of normalcy in the chaos of my internal mind. I hate thinking about the cancer in my body. I can’t control it and I am doing everything my oncologist wants me to do and I am basically hoping it is enough. But I struggle with not comprehending why patients who do what they are told like taking their meds, subjecting themselves to chemo and radiation, going to appointments, having surgery, why those things are not enough to kill the cancers that threaten to take us. On a scientific level, I understand. On a fairness scale, on a scale of humanity, I do not.

How is it I potentially will walk away from this train wreck with my life, but watch two other people in my life right now hang on for dear life, only extending the inevitable? The last 24 hours I have received sad news about the cancers taking over the bodies of humans I adore and that there is very little left to do. I cannot begin to describe the immense pain, the anguish and rage I feel internally. Don’t get me started on the guilt. Cancer just isn’t fucking fair. How is it I get to live and they don’t? How is it we live in this modern world and these chaotic cells still take lives? How can I be so sure that they won’t take mine?

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

“Sometimes
I feel the fear of
Uncertainty stinging clear
And I, can’t help but ask myself how much I’ll let the fear
Take the wheel and steer”

– Drive, Incubus

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): 21 weeks and 16 treatments later, I can shout “CHEMO FINITO” and it feels so good. About damn time. Up next: a CT scan to see progress of my existing tumors and make sure there are not any new growths anywhere and I will meet with the surgeon to go over the process of chop chop. I have a Zoladex injection on August 18 and see my oncologist on August 26 for a follow-up.

TO THE SHORT VERSION!

What a fucking day. Emotions. Chemo. Tears. Cupcakes. Hugs. Joy. Guilt. Anxiety. A full spectrum that I am still processing. I am so glad chemo has ended, but there is a lot of guilt that comes with ringing the chemo bell.

Cancer isn’t fair. How is it some of us get to experience that and not everyone? Some are curative, some are palliative care. Some get to the ring the bell, but return back to treatment months later with new growths. Some ring it once and that is that. It is a complex emotion and experience that is hard to ignore today. I find so much joy and happiness in treatment ending, but struggle with knowing that is not the case for everyone.

Fuck cancer. It just isn’t fair.

I dream of a day where all cancers are curative and treatable. There is so much good being done at the cancer center for patients. Nothing about the experience is easy but the folks there bring a lot of comfort and I’ve left this part of my journey feeling dramatically impacted and moved by the care I’ve experienced.

A small photo intermission! I am trying to figure out how to share the video of me ringing the bell, but it is a premium service for this platform, so I need to find a host site to share from.

My body is insanely exhausted from chemo, the most I have ever felt. I think it is a combo between COVID fatigue and chemo and my body being like, “Wait, I thought we were done with this chemo shit?” I left treatment, ate some lunch, and took a deep nap. I have more to say but I might need to write more tomorrow because my brain isn’t working and I am so tired.

MORE TOMORROW! For now, I rest.

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

“Turn up the music, turn down the lights
I got a feelin’ I’m gon’ be alright
Okay (okay), alright
It’s about damn time (time)
Turn up the music, let’s celebrate (alright)
I got a feelin’ I’m gon’ be okay
Okay (okay), alright
It’s about damn time”

– About Damn Time, Lizzo

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): Tomorrow is my last chemo infusion!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HIT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME CARBO PLATINUM!

TO THE SHORT VERSION!

“You did it. Every day you showed up and did what you had to do to survive. That on its own is incredible. But doing that on top of everything else you’ve accomplished is almost unbelievable. I am so proud of you friend. Next you have major surgery coming up and that’s going to suck too. A lot. But I believe in you. I know you’re going to keep showing up and doing what you have to do to be here. I’m sending you all my love fro the other side of this journey.”

An AYA breast cancer survivor

A friend I made early on in my diagnosis sent me that message today on Instagram. We have never met, but she has watched me endure my journey and even went to the charity art fundraiser! I love making friends. It left me in tears because it is literally an active choice every single damn day to show up to survive chemo. Being poisoned is hard. This shit is fucking awful. Sometimes I pretend that chemo is cool and fun with all the facts I learn and people I meet but this shit is destroying my body trying to destroy cancer. I am glad it is ending and I am glad that when I touch my breast it is hard for me to find the tumor now. Can’t wait to see the progress when I get my scans done! *cue scanxiety*

The goodie bags are packed. The boobie cupcakes are frosted. The chemo bag is stuffed full of every single party pod banner I’ve ever hung. Destination chemo finito!

Today’s song lyrics of the day are brought to you by Britney Spears.

“My loneliness is killing me (and I)
I must confess I still believe (still believe)
When I’m not with you I lose my mind
Give me a sign
Hit me baby one more time”

– …Baby One More Time, Britney Spears