Not Today...

It's October 13 and it's National Metastatic Breast Cancer Awareness Day.  I have Metastatic Breast Cancer.  That means I have Stage 4 BC and that my Breast Cancer has spread beyond the breasts and lymph nodes.   We've all heard the statistics: 40,000 women (and men) will die this year from Breast Cancer. And while dealing with any stage of any cancer is overwhelming, I feel compelled to point out that not one single person dies from Stage 1, 2, or even Stage 3, breast cancer. (But be aware,  20% of people initially dx with Stage 1, 2, or 3 BC will eventually develop metastatic BC.) And while awareness is certainly important, what we REALLY need is a cure.  Stage 4 is the killer and there is no cure.  And yes, I may die of something else besides breast cancer, but I've been put on notice that forgoing some tragic accident, breast cancer will, in fact, kill me...BUT that day is not today.

Four and half years ago, I was told that I have a 20% chance of living 5 years.  I'm 6 months short of becoming a statistic and anyone who knows me personally knows that I've always said I am a winner and I will beat the odds.  And look at me now...I certainly am.

But regardless of how it appears on Facebook or how I appear to you on the streets, at a party, in church or just out and about, having Stage 4 Breast Cancer isn't easy.  It's hard on the body, it's hard on the mind and it's hard on the emotions.

Since being diagnosed with Stage 4 BC, I've been on Abraxane and Gemzar, then Arimidex, then back on Abraxane and Gemzar, then Navelbine.  Those are chemos I can't use in the future--and there's only so much available in the arsenal.  Despite my glorious NED (No Evidence of Disease) status, I must stay on my current chemo, Xeloda, indefinitely to keep the cancer at bay. The cancer is still there, it's just either dormant or hiding where the scans can't see it.  Once the cancer gets on the move again, the Xeloda will have failed and I'll be switched to another chemo.  And while I've had chemo breaks in the past, I will get no more.  It's not an option.  (Though I am trying to convince my oncologist to let me take a teeny-tiny break if I can stay NED for 6 months straight so I can have 'the girls' re-done.) Oh, and then there was the radiation to my left hip 11 months ago.

In the past the chemos have caused me to go into depression, to become clinically anorexic (remember when I got down to 116 pounds and it took me 4 hours to eat a Whopper?), and, among other things, to have heartburn, vision issues, deplete the hemoglobin in my RBCs (blood transfusions fix that), as well as cause my WBC to drop so low that, for over a year,  I had to had shots for 4 days after each chemo.  

Today, I  have serious neuropathy in my hands and feet.  That's why I drop things so much (and have gone through 4 iPhones in the past year).  My feet tingle when I walk and it takes a few extra seconds to get out of bed because they hurt.  My joints hurt as well.  So does my lower back.  And the pain left by the radiation in my left hip makes it impossible to sleep on my left side.

Personally, I know of three other women who have stage 4 breast cancer.  I also 'know' many more via a message board specifically for us Meta-sisters.  Three of those 'meta-sisters' died this past week.  A while back, I had to take a break from that group because it was just too sad and depressing.  Too many deaths, too many stories about lack of a good support system and help, too many stories about financial problems associated with little income and the expense of going to the doctor/hospital so much...the list is endless.  I'm still reluctant to visit the site, but I do because sometimes I can help a newly diagnosed woman or man.

A few years ago, back when I still couldn't bring my grown up self to give myself the Neupogen shots 4 times/week,  I read a book titled, "A Measure of Heaven".  It changed my life.  I've always been a believer in God and I'd almost always been certain I was going to heaven despite my sins. (Thanks to my church I am 100% positive that I will go to Heaven despite my shortcomings.) The problem was, I wasn't sure what that meant or how it worked.  I wasn't sure just how real Heaven was. But this book, based on interviews and studies of people who'd had near-death experiences, explained some of that (for me at least).  No one in the book had the exact same experience and some experiences were pleasant and some were scary. The book discusses things like 'the tunnel', the light, communicating telepathically, cessation of pain, being able to look down at yourself and view what was happening, being greeted and choosing or being told to go back, unbelievable and never before seen (or imagined) colors and most important, an overwhelming and all-encompassing love...

Yes, through science and faith, I'm convinced there is a Heaven.  It is real. I don't want to ever have to leave my children, my best friend and sister, my brother, and my family and friends, but I will someday.  And while I fear for them and what will happen after I'm gone, I have absolutely no fear for myself.  I know Heaven is real.  I know I'm going.  I'm going to see my mamaw and papaw; Zachary's father; all of my dogs and cats; and my good friend, Renee, who died much too young. And it's gonna be awesome!!! 

This disease, though considered 'chronic', will in all probability kill me in the end.  But that day is not today. 

Today, I will gaze at the completion of upgrading my kitchen appliances.  Today, I will contribute food to my church's Backpack Ministry.  Today, I will take note that my lot in life could be so much worse.  I'm aware that there are many, many others who are so much worse off than me whether it's physically, financially, or spiritually.  I have an awesome family, great friends, a fantastic church, a career that allows me to work on my own schedule, a roof over my head, and food in my pantry.  My life is good; compared to others, it's actually pretty damn great.

Besides, I have stuff to do! Next weekend, I will go to Tampa for a mini "sistercation."  Then, it's off to Branson for another long weekend and in November it's off to Seattle for Thanksgiving.  I will not be still;  I will not be satisfied; and I will not be beaten.  Yes, yes, it may kill me in the end.  But that, my dear readers, will be my ultimate victory over this nasty disease.  

But not today, not today.