No end date was stamped on me, and progress was always expected. Nobody gave up on me, including the most important person: my doctor. The years since I was diagnosed haven’t always been easy, but you’ll note that I said years. They bolster you, and your spirits rise and fear dissipates. You learn that you’re more important to some people than you ever imagined and that these are the only people who count. They’ll do chores, take you to treatments, and even laugh at your corny jokes. They send cards, bring food, and give hugs. Their friendship unfurls in front of you like a flag. You find kindness in people you never knew cared. Magically, you rebuild in this new world. Those who can’t deal with a diagnosis of metastatic breast cancer drop away. Sometimes, horribly, it even takes your friends or family. Then it takes your time, your job, and finally your future. Metastatic cancer strips life away from you bit by bit. It was me, and now my job was to live as long and as normally as possible … or so I thought. I soon realized that “Why me?” is an unanswerable question. There was little to indicate that mets (metastasis) was going to be my fate. I thought, “How could this be?” I had been a stage 2A. Metastasis, the thing that all women with early stage cancer fear, happened to me only 4 months after my treatment ended. What I can remember is the emotions: shock, disbelief, and the feeling of doom.įrom what I knew at the time, metastatic cancer was a death sentence. “I’m sorry, but your breast cancer has spread to your liver.” These may be the words my oncologist used when he told me that I was now metastatic, but to be honest, I can’t recall them clearly.
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