Episode 9 - A Day in the Life with Metastatic Breast Cancer

Well, here we are in mid to late January! Hope wherever you are you are warm and safe. I am…still here. Waiting to find out what happens next. Ugh. I was not planning on making another appearance here until I had some real news, but feel compelled to let you all know what things look like today. I did promise to present an honest description of this Day in the Life stuff.

I was recently asked by a stranger commenting on the vlog why I was “coming clean,” as he put it, about my struggles with this thing. I responded to him as I have when I started this - that I hoped shining a light on the day to day experiences would be useful to other women struggling with metastatic breast cancer, as well as for their friends and families. I still hope that! There is out there an ocean of medical information, reams of material on life expectancy, and pages and pages online regarding pre-and post op care. But, there is  not much at all on what it is like to deal with this on a more mundane, every day basis. And that is where I hope my stories will be of use. 

In early December I was informed that, as my treatment was working so well, and the ancillary lesions found were so diminished, I would be a good candidate for a lumpectomy to remove the original breast tumor. This will not change my overall diagnosis, but is hoped to buy me more time. While the news is good, I’ve been on hold, as it were, ever since waiting to find out what this entails, and when I can expect the surgery. Well. I am still waiting!

On January 26 - just a week from now - I am having, at the request of the surgeon, one more mammogram, and an ultrasound. That same day I am also scheduled to have an hour long consult with the surgeon. I am SO hopeful I will have a plan in place, and a date selected for this. The waiting, and uncertainty have been tough. But, the wait has given me plenty of time to discuss this with family and friends who have already gone through lumpectomy, as well as mastectomy (the removal of the breast entirely) and so I have learned some things. About myself.

Every woman I have spoken with has let me know how grateful they were to have the cancerous tumor (or breast) removed, and were delighted this option was now available to me. We all agree on that. Where we part company, as it were, is how we feel about the surgery, itself, and the resulting scarring, and disfigurement. All of them, every last one has told me the same thing - “I don’t care what it looks like afterward, I’m old, get it out!” Well. I’d love to report I was just as brave, just as sanguine, just as enthusiastic as my friends and family. Alas, I am not. I find I DO care, thank you very much, what my breast will look like after surgery. Perhaps, If I had a husband, or sweetheart and that hunky guy said something like, “Sweetie, baby, honey, I’d love ya if you looked like a Gorgon.” But, right now, I do not. I am also, frankly, a little bit worried about the pain and discomfort I will experience post op. And this waiting is not helping. So! I realize I am reporting all this with the fond hope it finds the right eyes and ears. If you have a woman in your life going through this, please listen closely, and do not assume, despite her protestations otherwise (we all want to be brave, and strong, and not create drama for those close to us) that she is not dealing with a great jolly shit load of anxiety, and fear regarding her upcoming treatment. And if she, like me, is having a moment of perhaps misplaced vanity, be understanding. This is not easy stuff!

I promise to check in again when I have more news, and expect to be a tad more hopeful, and far less emotional at that time. Truly, as I have noted before in this vlog, it is the unknown that is  the hardest to deal with, and uncertainty seems to be one of the hallmarks of this disease. Fun!

Thanks for listening, and again, my goal, my hope, my fondest desire with sharing this stuff with you is that you find it useful. That is helps you, and your friends and family cope with the prosaic, every day-ness of living with metastatic breast cancer.

Until next time.