This is a Week of Celebration! Exactly two years ago, after blissfully living my life up to that point in relatively good health, I was shockingly diagnosed with de novo metastatic breast cancer (MBC) the same week as my 52^nd birthday. Instantaneously thrust into a compulsory lifetime MBC Sorority membership – that special “sisterhood” no one ever wants to join, I plunged headfirst into trauma, and then dove deeper still, into survival mode. While processing the stunning news of a terminal diagnosis, I simultaneously became a master cancer researcher, frantically shifting through all the pseudoscience bullshit being thrown at me from every which way, so as to find the latest actual scientifically-based research with which to make my medical decisions.

Did you know that only 4 percent to 6 percent of women diagnosed with breast cancer are initially diagnosed at stage IV? Stage IV means that the breast cancer has already metastasized, or spread, to distant sites in the body, specifically lung, liver, brain and bone. My specific diagnosis was a real doozy – ER+, PR+, HER2- multiple grape-like clusters of cancerous tumors lurking just under the surface of 3/4 of my entire right breast and at least one sentinel lymph node, plus a teeny, but deadly, metastatic tumor in my liver. In my liver, people! So, how, you may ask, could I ever view this week as a week to be celebrated? It’s because this is the week I have officially reached the window of median survival rate for women with MBC. And, on top of that, currently there is no active cancer lighting up in my body (per my last PET/CT scan in July 2020).

Did you know that the median survival rate for a woman with stage 4 breast cancer is only 24 to 39 months after the date of her diagnosis? Yes, read that again, friend – 24 to 39 months (research statistics are from October 2018[1]). Did you know that the 5-year relative survival rate for people like me is approximately just 23 percent? This means that women who have metastatic breast cancer are only 23 percent as likely as women without MBC to be alive 5 years after their diagnosis anniversary date.

Here’s a glimpse into the last two years of my life – After winning the metastatic cancer lottery, I’ve spent the last 24 months existing from scan to scan, split up into 90 day chunks. The great news is that I’ve just graduated to once every six month scans as of three weeks ago. As of today, I’m on my 6^th line of cancer treatment and by all appearances, it’s working. From August 2018 through December 2018 I served 16 weeks’ time in IV chemotherapy hell, first Adriamycin (the Red Devil) paired with Cytoxan, followed by Taxol. Because this grueling chemo-cocktail attacks both the good cells and the bad, I went completely bald, was thrown into sudden menopause, and became deathly ill for a few weeks – but that little tumor in my liver was totally obliterated. I started Letrozole in January 2019 and continued on it until I could no longer walk due to its crippling side-effects (pun intended). In February 2019, I underwent a modified radical bilateral mastectomy with 20 lymph nodes (6 sentinel) also removed, and the surgeon said he removed that last bit of active cancer that was on the chest wall, along with my breasts. (Side note: “sleeping bears” is how he described the inactive cancer cells which still reside in my body.) I have lived in a cruel (for me) breast-less existence, with an ugly mass of indented scars in the chestal region to boot for the last 18 months, and as I write this I am eagerly awaiting breast reconstruction by DIEP flap this coming November.

In May and June of 2019, I endured 35 exhausting rounds of radiation. These days I take Anastrozole, which so far is keeping those sleeping bears in hibernation. Because of residual effects of cancer treatment, I am additionally on three other medications to keep treatment-acquired immune disease, akin to Lupus, somewhat at check. Chronic fatigue and inflammation, memory and word finding issues, and occasional days spent in pain are the aftermath of these last two years, but the meds do help. For someone who rarely even took an aspirin prior to August 2018, it’s a LOT of medication, but I am very thankful to have it. And I am STILL HERE, and inexpressibly grateful and happy to be alive. Life is BEAUTIFUL. God is GOOD.

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever. Psalm 118:1

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[1] Caswell-Jin JL, Plevritis SK, Tian L, et al. Change in Survival in Metastatic Breast Cancer with Treatment Advances: Meta-Analysis and Systematic Review. JNCI Cancer Spectr. 2018;2(4):pky062. doi:10.1093/jncics/pky062