My "Mamm"wars: Fighting to Survive Stage 4 Breast Cancer

Apparently old rock music is my "thing" this week. As my favorite band from Sacramento, Tesla, sings, "Signs, signs, everywhere there's signs..." I am constantly looking for and asking for signs, and today I got a big one. The contrast dye from the scan on Monday gave me a terrible, horrible, no-good rash all over. I've been trying to not rip my eyeballs out for the past two days, and my skin looks like I spent a few hours in a fake tanning booth. I called Dr. Adler yesterday and he said to take Benadryl. It seemed to work for a little bit, but today around lunch time I blew up again. I called Dr. Adler's office again left  a message for my nurse, Suzanne, to call me back. I packed up and left work then. As I was driving past the church my phone rang, so I pulled into the rectory parking lot. Suzanne was telling me that she would call in a prescription for prednisone for my rash. At that point I casually mentioned that I really didn't want to wai...

Tom Petty was so right, the waiting IS the hardest part. Today's scan was a much better experience than the last one was. We arrived at 8 and I had an hour to drink the disgusting gastrografin drink. It is seriously so vile, especially on an empty stomach. But if that were my biggest problem in life, I would take it... so I should just shut it and deal. I made sure I told every medical person I came in contact with that I have a power port, and funny enough, everyone said "I know, I read your file." I wonder if it says "Irritable when forced to wait three hours for no reason," in my file also. I had big plans to  go to breakfast with Matt and get some stuff done today, but none of that happened. By the time the scan was over I had a headache, my ribs hurt, and I just wanted to crawl back in bed. I'm sure it's a combo of the lingering chemo hangover, the gross drink, and the sheer stress of the scan. But regardless, I came home and slept for the rest of...

Today is a big anniversary for me. 7 years ago today I had my DIEP flap surgery - double mastectomy where they used my abdomen fat to immediately re create my breasts. It was my long awaited boob job and tummy tuck; it just included cancer as well. 7 years ago my hell started. Every single decision Matt and I made about my illness was made together. We agreed on everything and kept saying that the more aggressive we were back then, the more chance we had of thwarting a recurrence. So I went big for everything. Mastectomy vs. lumpectomy, dose dense chemo, radiation, and then hormonal therapy to squash any estrogen left in my body. A year after my surgery, I took preventative measures and had my ovaries removed too. I did EVERYTHING I could. I was STILL taking hormone suppressants when this shit came back almost 7 years later. I've been fighting this fucking monster for 7 years today. I had moments of cockiness where, on this day, I'd even post a stupid fucking Facebook status ...

I had my appointment with the nutritionist at UCSF yesterday. The dismal rainy day should have been an indication of the imminent news I was to receive. Although, I can't lie... I can't say I was very shocked by what the health lady had to say. In a nutshell (get it... nuts are healthy?!), I was advised that ice cream for breakfast is frowned upon, and I need to trade in my Sour Patch Kids for pomegranate seeds. Actually, I'm fine with pomegranate seeds. They are absolutely delicious in my glasses of prosecco. But I'm not certain that's how she was inferring I should eat them. I didn't clarify this, so I can still play dumb maybe. Otherwise, I'm doing pretty well with my diet. She wants me to aim for 2,000 calories daily and 60-70 grams of protein. Honestly, these goals seem almost as unattainable as when I was trying to LOSE weight and I had to aim for ONLY 1,300 calories a day. Why is it that this food thing can't just be easy? I realize that eat...

The past 6 months have caused Matt and I to have serious conversations. Conversations most people try to avoid because they are so morbid and REAL. When you are diagnosed with an illness where the median survival time is 2.5 years, you have to speed these conversations up. They HAVE to be had. Matt can't stand talking about this stuff half the time, but I think it's part of my processing the whole reality that makes me push forward and insist we discuss. There are a few things that I am having a particularly hard time dealing with. One of which is what to do with my body after I die. Normally there are two options. Burial or cremation. As I lay in bed last night and listened to the rain, my fear of burial rose to the top again. (no pun intended). I don't want to be in the cold, wet, wormy ground. Ugh. I can't stand being cold and wet. And the thought of bugs climbing on me just really creeps me out. The alternative is cremation. I equally cannot stand being hot. That ...

What an incredible few weeks we've had. The holidays were as fun and eventful as expected, and just as I thought, the January funk is starting to set in. Whenever I spend time with my brothers it takes a few days to come back to reality afterwards. I realize how much I miss them and I get all weepy and sappy after we part ways. Now that they both have kids that I adore, it makes it even tougher. Now that they have kids and I have cancer, it makes it ridiculously tough as I think that my nieces and nephews may not ever know me. Although I guess that's better than them knowing me and not liking me - but I can't imagine that would happen.... Anyway, the week before Christmas I was given a chemo reprieve due to lack of white blood cells. That meant that when I went in on the 29th I had had two full weeks off. I was feeling good. I was almost back to my old self energy-wise. I had been out walking a lot in Yosemite and all around Jamestown and Columbia... I had *almost* forgo...