Gratitude's Gift: Navigating Life with Cancer

I went for scans and a brain MRI last week. I was feeling good because my tumor markers were low, my counts were normal, and my orthopedic oncologist and medical oncologist both gave the green light for knee replacements. For the first time in nearly five years, I saw a glimpse of hope in the battle against metastatic cancer. I felt at peace, like a rainbow and sun were shining down on my thinly veiled scalp. I actually started to feel lucky 🍀.

Unexpected setback

But then the scans came back, and things had significantly progressed. Countless masses in my breast and, for the first time in four years, growth in my brain stem. My medical team regrouped. (Everyone, except for me—and even my husband, who was trying to hide it.) The nurse handed me a box of Kleenex, and I was confused at first, because the first emotion I allowed myself to feel was rage. I thought, I don’t need your tissues. Stick them where the sun doesn’t shine, not realizing I’d soon need to bend over. I turned slowly, realizing the nurse wasn’t offering them to me but to my quietly sobbing husband. My first instinct was annoyance, thinking, Can’t you just keep it together for the rest of this appointment? What I didn’t realize then was that the anger I clung to was not protecting me, but doing the opposite. My husband didn’t swallow his tears or push his grief down. He chose vulnerability, and in doing so, he taught me a lesson, even though he didn’t realize it at the time.

Facing the anger and the future with ABC

I won’t lie—rage is still my primary emotion right now. I’m mad, like a rabid animal or a hornet’s nest ready to explode. If only I’d gotten that knee replacement… I’m still processing this next phase. There’s another chemotherapy option called Enhertu. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the progress made in treating metastatic breast cancer. In the right context, I am lucky. I have an incredibly supportive husband and mother who would switch places with me in an instant. Although, I briefly entertained the thought, I would never wish this on anyone, especially the ones I love. They’re selflessly walking beside me, holding my hand when I need it and allowing that vulnerability. This is my burden, and while I don’t know why it’s mine, I’m thankful they share the load with me in every way they can. They are the strongest people I’ve ever known.

Moments of love and strength

Saturday, I attended my daughter’s senior swim program. We were so proud to walk across the deck to honor her swimming career. Today, I’m sending my other daughter to not one, but three Targets to pick up food I prepaid for, after getting countless cancellation notifications. She’s doing it without complaint on her one day off. Funny how my friend and I used to roam every Target just for fun—who knew?

The unseen support of loved ones

This got me thinking about my mother, aunts, cousins, and close friends. It’s so hard for them to know what to say to me. They want to make things easier, to take away the pain, to carry the heavy, invisible burden I carry everywhere, even when it feels like hugging a porcupine. Don’t they need hugs too? I can’t even sort through my own thoughts and feelings, yet my family and close friends embody unconditional love. I don’t have to ask twice. Sometimes, they even read my mind, knowing I hate to ask for help. I don’t think my terminal cancer has made me a better person, nor am I thankful for it, but it has shown me the beautiful people I’m surrounded by. These perfectly imperfect souls are my people, and for that, I am lucky. I am so loved, and that inspires me to learn to love myself. Maybe, just maybe, I am worth it!

Support and peace

If you’re still reading, you’re in my circle, and you don’t know what it’s like to experience cancer ghosting. You’ve taught me more than I can express. I find peace in those who have paved the way for me. I long for a hug from my father, to crawl back onto my papa’s lap and feel his softness again, to hear my cousins’ voices and laughter, reliving childhood and teenage memories. We accomplished so many firsts together.

Embracing life and the unknown

I’m not ready to die. I’m still embracing the future, even the darkest moments, for more light, more love, and to learn more from the people I love who are willing to drop their guard and show me their true colors.

https://youtu.be/la0-5QFLr14?si=fPYfNdxMisZ9_8cs