A Day in the Life With Metastatic Breast Cancer

                  A Day in the Life with Metastatic Breast Cancer

Good morning, I’m Parker, and like Camille, Violetta, or Mimi - those tragic literary ladies hacking their way through life and love - I am here to sing my song. And perhaps, to offer some found wisdom and advice from my travels. Travails? Potato, potahhto. 

February of 2021, I was diagnosed with stage 4 metastatic breast cancer. Yeah. Scary stuff. But, as I am well past the panic and hysteria that are the early hallmarks of this condition, I find I am focusing on a strong sense of generativity- a need to provide what I hope will be useful information on a day in the life with terminal breast cancer.

Initially, I’d thought to simply write a blog, but after discussion with a good friend with the same diagnosis, I decided to get past my vanity, show my face, and record my voice, as well. She was right - no part of our lives has been unaffected, and showing the changes over time seems right. 

So! Here we go. For now, each early post will cover a topic, an experience, or an epiphany that I think someone out there might find resonant, and helpful. My son, and technology guru, has advised me to leave myself an out regarding format - to keep things loose - as I may want to alter the format, but for today, this is how I begin.

Let’s go back to June 2020, shall we? Yeah, it was months before the dreaded diagnosis, but the experience was instructive, so I start there.  It was, as you recall, the early months of the Covid lockdown, and everything seemed fraught, and unsettled. Because it was. Out of nowhere, I started experiencing mild but chronic pain in my lower left abdomen. No big deal. Couple of aspirin, and I was good to go. But one morning aspirin wouldn’t touch it. By noon I was doubled over in pain, and taking a Lyft to Urgent Care. An hour into the visit there, it was determined I needed the Emergency Room. And what a long night that was! 6 hours later, after blood tests, CT scans, and a full pelvic examination, it was determined I had a raging infection of no specific origin, or location. I was sent home with pain meds, and antibiotics, and instructions to follow up with my doctor. A week later, more blood work was done, another full pelvic exam performed, as well as a manual breast exam, but the mystery remained. After a week, or 10 days, I was ok. Or so I thought.

Perhaps this was a coincidence, and I can find no medical professional who will tell me otherwise, but I think my experience in June was my poor old body’s way of yelling, “Danger, danger, Will Robinson!”Stupid robot. Who ever listened to him? Not me, certainly. 

In late-January, my cat - a 17 year old Abyssinian named Kipling - began paying A LOT of attention to my right breast. He persisted in kneading it copiously whenever I was lying down, and sniffing it relentlessly. I took the hint, and paid a bit more attention to my self-exams in the shower. Nothing felt especially strange, but as I have always had highly dense breast tissue, lumps and bumps were not uncommon. What WAS strange, however, was the new dimpling in the flesh of the underside of that right breast. Yeah. That was disquieting, and alarm bells began to ring in my head. I made an appointment with my ob-gyn for the next week.

As I had just been to see her in June, she was not especially concerned. Until, that is, I donned a gown, and let her see the dimpling I’d described. She immediately ordered another round of blood tests, and scheduled a mammogram as soon as possible. I could tell then things had taken a turn, as the mammogram was set for the very next day.  I don’t know how she did it, but that wonderful woman got a veritable clinic worth of techs, an oncologist, and a noted surgeon to alter their schedules to accommodate me and see me fast. My ride on the cancer carousel began in earnest that week.

After several grueling mammograms with markers, which left me in pain, and reduced the techs trying to get the best pictures to sweaty exhaustion it was time for a biopsy. Again, everything seemed to be happening with alarming speed, and I was told before the results came in to expect a positive diagnosis. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for it, and the biopsy was definitive - cancer. A meeting with an oncologist on staff, and a highly rated surgeon followed quickly.

My oncologist was not particularly warm, or compassionate, but was recommended for her expertise, and success rate. I appreciated her direct approach, and no nonsense manner. I rather liked the surgeon, though. He was about my age, had a comfortable office with the usual framed sheep skins on the walls, and a kindly demeanor. He also had hanging alone on a far wall something that charmed me, and made me laugh - a small framed certificate attesting to his status as an Eagle Scout, circa 1974. I felt in good hands - a man with a sense of humor! Sadly, my interactions with the surgeon ended that day. The CT and full body scan showed the cancer had spread to my lung, leg and spine. Surgery was no longer an option. That’s when the big Kabuki cancer play began for me. Stage 4 metastatic breast cancer.

So! Thus ends my first blog post. Next time I plan to discuss, in fewer words, side effects from the meds no one tells you about. Fun! No, really, I will not be grim in my reports, and will lean well into the dark humor my friends and family have come to expect from me. Until next time.