Move Mountains

Lately, I've been looking for inspiration. Something to help guide me with my thoughts and help wrap my head around the waves of events in my life. One moment its rough waters knocking me over with white caps, barely catching a breath. The next moment, rays of sun peak through the clouds and the once thrashing water becomes calm again. I can see the reflection of myself and the world around me, continuing on as it always has while I was being tossed around under sea level.

Since May, I've been watching this reflection of me. Waiting for the clouds to brew another storm. Fighting the fear with a smile while the voice in the back of my head is whispering something I cant quite grasp. I'm waiting for them to shout a warning for another storm but so far it's been too quiet.

I'm starting to get used to the calm waters. It's nice being able to enjoy life with my loved ones without much worry. Theres still a slight chance I could be knocked under the tide, but for now, I will embrace the serenity.

The anxiety started to kick up again just this past week as I anticipated my 6-month PET scan. This would be my first scan since completing active treatment. It was a big one. This would tell me if all that nonsense of Chemotherapy, surgery, and radiation was worth it.

Although I appreciate all the prayers people have been saying for me, I've never been the most religious person. I will say, though, that I believe in signs. My PET scan happened to fall on the 12th anniversary of my dear friend, Alyssa's, death. She was only 16 years old, I had just turned 17, when she was taken away from us in a car accident. I will forever credit that grief and that instant dose of reality for teaching me to live each moment to its fullest because you don't know which one will be your last.

The fact that this scan fell on the anniversary of such a life-changing moment told me right away it was all going to be alright. I believe Alyssa was with me that day. Maybe it's just to ease my own mind, but maybe she was there to remind me that this experience and this diagnosis was to prove yet again the 'life is short but sweet for certain'.

I was emailed results that evening. I read through it seeing the words, "No foci of abnormally increased radio tracer uptake...No suspicious foci of thoracic FDG activity...No suspicious foci of FDG activity within abdomen and pelvis...No evidence for FDG avid malignancy". If I was reading this correctly, no sign of cancer was showing up on the scan. I was just diagnosed with invasive stage IV breast cancer 10 months ago. I must be reading this wrong. Let me wait with cautious optimism to confirm the results on Monday...

Monday comes along and I have infusion at 8am. This infusion is much different than it once was. I barely have any side effects from my meds now and I'm in and out within 3 hours! I mention my scan to my nurse, inquiring about the results, so she calls over to my doctor. Shortly after, another nurse comes in with a print out of my results, the same results that were emailed to me Friday evening. She told me the results looked great and that my scan came back clear. I was right. Just as quickly as my life flipped upside down in October, its flipped rightside up again.

With this kind of news, you'd think I'd be jumping up and down with excitement! Honestly, though, I dont know how I feel about it. Just 10 months ago, I was told I had an incurable disease. I feared for my life and didnt know how long I had to live. I feared for my husband's and my kids' lives, how they would be effected by all of this and how they would manage if I died. Now, I get handed a piece of paper saying that my scan was clear and there is no sign of active cancer inside me. Was this whole thing just a cruel joke? It seems to me like the waves of life are a little confused.

It's a tricky position to be in. I'm being told my scan is clear but I'm not in remission. I will never be in remission until we find a cure. You see, the scans can only pick up so much and chances are there are micro-metastases that are dormant, waiting to wake up. Perhaps these micro-metastases are what's behind the little voice in the back of my head. I'm just hoping they'll yell loud enough to give me enough time to prepare for the next storm.

I can be given the clear scan results and feel happy about it, but theres always a 'but'. We dont see anything active, but theres no sure way to determine if you're cured...Theres also the 'survivors guilt' that is all too real. I have met many other breasties since my diagnosis and connected with so many brave and beautiful women. Some are diagnosed stage IV as I am. Some of these women are responding well to treatment while others are not. As I move through the process of treatment and experience my own path, I can't help but think of all these women. Everyone is different and every cancer is different. What worked for me doesn't always work for others. This is not because they aren't strong or brave or they don't wear enough pink. If anything, they are stronger because they've had to put up with more of this shit than anyone! Yeah, sometimes being called a fighter or warrior is empowering, but I didn't get the results I did because of my strength. Those whose bodies don't respond well to treatment and are on their 5th clinical trial arent in this position because they are weak. It is honestly luck of the draw and trial & error. Sure, studies show certain combinations of drugs work best on certain cancers but it's not guaranteed. Cancer sucks and while I am grateful I dont need to start up chemo again, I hesitate getting too excited because I know  I very well may have to start up again soon enough. I also know some pretty badass women who are really struggling with their treatment. That's not okay. Breast cancer and curing breast cancer is not just about wearing pink to support it. We need funding and research to put an end to this bullshit!

Lately, I've been looking for inspiration on how to put these feelings I've been having into words. Then, I came across this Breasties notebook: "Move Mountains". What am I supposed to do with this experience? I am well and I have been told my life just got extended much longer than it was just a few months ago. Now what? I will never get back to living the life I used to live and I am okay with that! I am here to do so much more. I will be the voice and I will share my journey to anyone who wants to hear it.

"Tell the story of the mountain you climbed. Your words could be a page in someone else's survival guide"

I am here.
I am alive.
I am a breast cancer thriver.
I am here to move mountains for ALL of my sisters.
My first line of treatment worked for me.
I am one of the lucky ones.
I am grateful.
I am going to do anything I can to fight for my sisters.
I am with you.
I am holding your hand through it all no matter what waves come your way.
You are not alone.