The Beginning of “The End”

Apparently, if you’re terminally ill, people believe you must have something worthwhile to say.  Even before my diagnosis with stage four HER2+ metastatic breast cancer, so many of the people who know me have been after me to write: a book, a blog, a grocery list, anything! My response has always been that I’m not all that creative, and really, anything I have to say has probably already been said by someone else, and likely better. My friends and family seem to think I have my own unique voice, a way of putting things that’s uncommon. So I decided to start this blog and let you, the reader, be the judge. Why now? A couple reasons, really. I am, at 56, pretty much reaching the end of my story. I wrote a post on Facebook to that end, which prompted another round of people asking me to please write more about my views and the things I’ve learned (mostly the hard way) in my life. Keeping a sense of humor is one of the most important guiding principles in how I live. I’d much rather laugh than cry. Anyway, this is the Facebook post that finally got me started here, so I’ll start with it and see where things lead from there:

“ Hold onto your hat, because this is going to be a LONG one. 😄

Today is something of an anniversary for me. It was seven years ago today that I found the lump in my right breast. The last seven years have often been a long and difficult road, but they’ve also held laughter and the love of friends both new and old. Life goes on, even in the midst of illness and heartache.

Being that today is a “cancer anniversary”, it’s probably appropriate that I update you, my friends, on what’s going on with me. As some of you already know, I had a serious, protracted seizure on May 11th of this year. I went to the ER, and eventually they discovered that the cancer had metastasized once again, this time to my brain. I have a very large tumor on the left side of my brain, and it’s affecting my balance and the right side of my body, mainly weakness in my right leg and an inability to get it to do what I want it to at times. I started a chemo regimen with a brand new, recently approved drug called Tukysa (tucatinib) and had one session of gamma knife surgery. Unfortunately, my oncologist told me that even with treatment, I had less than a year to live (and that was as of May 2020). I got deathly ill from the chemo, so much so that I lost about 20 pounds in a period of about a week to ten days. Also, the chemo with tucatinib was a never ending thing: I’d have to continue it until the day I die. Since I was so sick and treatment would have maybe bought me an extra month or two at best, I stopped all treatment at the end of August and got myself involved with hospice. They’re fantastic. I don’t have to go to doctor appointments. They come to me. My meds are delivered. They do the absolute best they can to keep me comfortable and functioning as much as possible.

My dear friends, this is not the way I wanted my story to end, but life can be funny that way. How often do things actually turn out the way we plan? I went through a bad few months with memory problems and a lack of mental clarity, but as anyone who’s talked with me recently can tell you, I’m better now. I definitely haven’t lost my sense of humor. That’s a necessity for getting through daily life, cancer or not. I want you to know how very grateful I am for the priceless gift of friendship you’ve given me. Life would be immeasurably harder if I had to do this alone. Be kind and generous to yourself. Life is so very short. Make the most of this second, this *now* because it’s all we really have. I love you”.