Episode 11 - A Day in the Life with Metastatic Breast Cancer

Hello again! Early March, already! My, time does motor on when you finally get past the free floating anxiety you’ve been needlessly embracing since early December. Huh. Who knew? Yeah, well.  So! When last I posted, I’d found out I did NOT, in fact, have to endure a lumpectomy/mastectomy. And, me being me, was conflicted about it, and felt illogically blue about the whole thing. Well, I’m over that. No surgery! No disfigurement! No painful recovery! Yay! On to the next. What else should I worry about?

Ah, what else, indeed. Well, I will tell you. As I have reported to you many times, one of the chief hallmarks of this stupid disease is uncertainty. You just never know when that Damocles sword you’ve got hanging over your pretty scrolled iron bed is gonna fall — in one way or another. You know you must be prepared for general breakdown — fatigue; nausea; diarrhea; hair loss; brain fog; skin irritation; and let’s not forget the return of hot flashes. All delightful, but all can be managed, and still have a good quality of life. That dreadful dangling sword, though, is wondering when the big dog meds you’ve been prescribed - Verzenio, for me — will stop working. Because they do. Generally, these meds lose their efficacy in year three, or if you’re lucky, year 4. As I have been riding around on this cancer carousel since February 2021, I expect bad news regarding this every time I go in now for a blood test, and CT scan. I do try not to borrow trouble, as my late mother-in-law would say, but still. That fucking sword over the bed. And this is where I was in my mind, when I went in to the clinic last week.

Last Friday I went in for my three month blood test, visit with the oncologist, and IV infusion to strengthen bones. Because my doctor is demanding, and determined, test and scan results come back fast, fast, fast. Yay. Within an hour of the tests, we were in her office looking at the results together, and chatting. Now, I have to set the scene here - I’m a woman that appreciates fashion, good quality fabric, great fit, and an avid appreciator of a clean, classic, but not predictable aesthetic. I arrived for my appointment in fitted jeans, a red cashmere pullover, black leather jacket, leather gloves with a cunning red stripe, and black suede boots. I do this, not only because I enjoy good clothes, but because I find it helps me get past the awful and relentless routine of clinic visits, and procedures. Yeah, I could just throw a jacket over my jams, and slouch in, but that feels like giving up. Putting myself together like this is me donning my armor. So, here I am in casual sartorial battle gear, and in walks my doctor. She’s wearing the same color cashmere sweater I have on, over a pair of black leather pants, and black leather heeled booties. No white lab coat for her! She immediately exclaims over my look, and gives me a hug. We spend the next 2 minutes admiring one another, and discussing how much grief we get for our stubborn refusal to go through life looking like little brown wrens. And laugh. We do that a lot. GOD, but I do love this woman! And today, even more than usual.

After we’d gone over my test results — all stable, all well within the normal range — she began to tell me about the clinical trials she’s been conducting on second generation drugs for metastatic breast cancer. She reminded me (like I needed it) that the Verzenio would likely stop working soon — as it tends to cease effectiveness after 3 to 4 years — but told me she had very positive news to report regarding what I’m now calling Verzenio 2.0. There are about 30 such trials going on currently all across the country, and the findings are promising. Very promising, indeed. 

While no one can make promises, the findings of her trial suggest patients, like me, can benefit from these second generation meds, and likely extend their stable status at least a few more years. As I have been responding so well to my current regimen, my fashion forward, sleek and sexy doctor thinks I will be a good candidate for these new meds when mine go kaput. How great is that? So, while uncertainty reigns when riding the metastatic breast cancer carousel, hope appears to be riding that pretty painted pony next to you. Following along with that metaphor, I intend to grab that brass ring, and plan on hanging around a little bit longer. Who knows? I may see 70, 75, or even 80! And that, my friends listening, is why I have checked in today. To let you know there is always hope, to encourage you to hang in, and to continue being you, whatever that may mean. 

For me, it means welcoming good news, festooning that Damocles sword with some twinkly lights, dressing like I’m going somewhere fascinating, and appreciating what life has yet in store for me. I also urge you to surround yourself with your people. Let them know you love them. Let them know you appreciate they’re being with you. Let those people in your life who have made you a priority, who make it a point to see you, who have shown they love you - let them know how much they mean to you. And make plans with them for the future. Trust there are new adventures, and new people out there, too. I think there might be. Find someone to fall in love with! You may not be heading for the exit just yet, after all!