April 2025 Update

March was my 10 year cancerversary and 7 year metaversary (okay, I completely made that word up, but 7 years since the cancer appeared in my bones). Pretty impressive considering Google still tells me the 5 year survival rate is 32%. I’m definitely beginning to feel I’m on borrowed time, which doesn’t really feel good or bad, it just is. Also in March my oncologist recommended an abdominal MRI and chest CT to assess the effectiveness of my new treatments. The results were okay. I say that in the most annoyingly boring way possible–very “meh”. The small (0.9 cm) spot on my liver was still there, exactly the same size as it was 5 months ago. The spot on my vertebrae was also still present, along with some other smaller areas of suspicion. Following up with my oncologist, he was overall happy with the results and informed me that any of the smaller “new” spots on my vertebrae were probably there in October because bone imaging tends to lag behind other organs, for whatever reason. That means right now we stay the course. Images aside, if there’s one thing that’s been reinforced in the past 6 months for me, it’s that changing treatments is a huge pain, so short of some obvious growth on the scans or quality of life issues (from cancer or the medications), I will probably not be rushing to change things up. 

While overall I would say this news was more positive than negative and I continue to be pain-free, I don’t feel great about the results. To have clear, “cancer-free” images for the past 6 years and now to be living with visual spots of cancer is a bit of a downer. I am also, by my own design and preference, my own advocate and “head of cancer communication” and sometimes it just feels overwhelming. Especially when the news isn’t that great. It’s sad work.  

The other issue is adjusting to what lies ahead, health-wise. As I wrote about before, I’m approaching the finish line of my 50 state race goal, with 4 left (Hawaii was wonderful, by the way, absolute paradise). I have a big trip out west planned this summer to complete races in Wyoming, Montana, and Idaho. Between that trip and Hawaii, I will have done a lot of travelling in 2025 and my hope is that I can hold off finishing in Alaska until 2026. This makes me a little uneasy because ever since these new spots on my spine have shown up, I’ve had increased apprehension about the timeline and what my health and mobility will look like in 2026. I was hoping that this last scan might provide me some definitive reassurance, but as with all things cancer-related, it was really “clear as mud”. Running aside, just in life in general in the past 6 months I’ve felt untethered. Now that I’ve rolled back some of my volunteer work and goals for future employment, I’m feeling a little empty and it is difficult to navigate this feeling without feeling dependent on my health, which seems to be undependable. 

And just so I don’t leave this hanging on those Debbie Downer thoughts, I’ll end with some more upbeat topics.

Craft Corner

Every month when I go to the infusion center I take note of what books, crafts, and knick knacks they have on display. The spring craft was an assortment of tiny pillows with velcro attachments. I took one, as you can see here.

I asked the person attending the desk what the purpose of these tiny pillows was. Surprisingly, the tiny pillows actually had a great benefit. They were designed to help decrease the discomfort caused by various things (namely seatbelts) continually rubbing against a port. Ports are commonly used in cancer patients to help administer harsh chemotherapy directly into a larger vein as to decrease damage on smaller, more fragile blood vessels. Ports usually protrude to an extent where I could totally understand why seatbelts might be an issue. I briefly had a port in 2015 when I had intravenous chemotherapy. I don’t remember it being an issue with seatbelts, but I definitely am sensitive to seatbelts touching my clavicle and this tiny pillow really helps with that. So while the seasonal craft was once again odd, I found it helpful this time around and also appreciate that the waiting area was staffed with someone who helped me realize the benefit of what again seemed like a frivolous crafting project.    

“Dying for Sex” Review

I recently stumbled upon “Dying for Sex”, a new show out on Hulu about Molly, a lady diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer. Overall I really liked the show. Michelle Williams and Jenny Slate are wonderful actors and I completely identified with Michelle Williams’ portrayal of Molly. Throughout the show she had this perpetually distracted, inward leaning disposition. I’m not sure if that makes sense to others, but I related to that. I feel that almost every day. There’s a kind of self-obsession that happens once you start having medical problems. It’s weird and I don’t like it, but I feel it.  

The storyline is about Molly’s desire for sex, so yes, there are quite a few scenes that make the show awkward to watch if your television is in a common place in the household, like ours is. And no, I really can’t say I identify with Molly’s paradoxical increased libido. But I feel like that’s not really the point of the show. What Molly wanted (and I think what most of us in this situation want) was to be treated like a human, not to be viewed and treated as the sad “project” that her spouse needed to martyr himself for. I loved watching this show because I felt it showcased so many issues we face as cancer patients. The waiting (“cancer is 80% waiting”…so true), the disconnect with medical staff, the premature menopause, and all the thoughts and feelings that go into living authentically in a world where the immense gray space that is cancer doesn’t really fit. I would recommend this television series to show insight into terminal breast cancer, with one big caveat: I feel it is overly dramatic and spoiler alert…it made me really sad that it will only be one season. I was looking forward to a multiple season showcase of the long, slow progression that can be so mundane that it is truly impossible to “hold space” for someone or even remember they have cancer. Certainly that would not make for good television, though, so most everything that a typical patient would experience was condensed into 8 short episodes and it made it seem like everyday is a new tragedy in the world of breast cancer. And that is just not the case. Most of us go through months, if not years of calm before the cancer strikes again, chaos ensues, and we are once again in full battle mode against the disease that continues to outsmart humanity.