From Warrior to Survivor

I think that sometimes we get so wrapped up in the darkness that we forget to seek out the light. I’m sure this is an update you are all anxiously waiting for. If you’re my friend on Facebook you saw all three of my back-to-back check ins at Memorial Sloan Kettering this week, and I believe that an explanation is owed. One this I told myself when i was diagnosed was that I was going to be completely transparent and share the good the bad, and the downright ugly in this battle that God chose me for.

Two weeks ago, I woke up with an extremely stiff neck. I didn’t think much of it at the time because we all sleep crazy every once in a while, but when after a week it did not improve, and I began having difficulty eating without pain in my neck, upper back, and shoulders I reached out to my care team. I had explained to them my symptoms, and the new symptom of numbness in my left hand. I sat at my kitchen table two Wednesdays ago when my cellphone fell out of my hand and hit the floor while I was using it, and it was in that moment that I felt like something wasn’t quite right. Within 24 hours I had two MRI’s a lab visit and a visit with my oncologist scheduled. I literally felt like I was back at the beginning again. My mind was all over the place racing a thousand miles per minute with all of the what if’s.

As the week went on my symptoms eased up a little bit but the numbness and discomfort when swallowing had not. I was also reminded over and over again of all the things I would never be able to do because my treatment plan has taken a different route. They will not be going in at this point to remove the cancer, it’s something I’m just going to have to build my life around. The medication I need to be on for life is chemically putting me into menopause at 36. While I am grateful for my two beautiful children, and to be alive right now, when you’re in the dark it’s extremely hard not to focus on the fact that I will never again be able to have a child. I will never again be able to experience the first smile, the first laugh, the first Christmas, you get the point. I remember when I was first diagnosed, I decided that after my treatment and surgery which was part of the plan originally, I was going to get this bomb ass tattoo on my chest, get my sleeve, but now that’s also off the table. I know what you’re thinking “You’re alive you should be grateful.” and I am but sometimes when you look around all you see if darkness it’s difficult to see the bigger picture. Sometimes all you can see is the here and now.

By Thursday my nerves were completely shot. I just wanted to results, I needed the results. I had to know what was next. That morning I sat in the waiting room at the oncology office for less than 10 minutes. I immediately thought “Oh god, this isn’t good.” Every single time I’ve gone for an appointment I have always waiting no less than 45 minutes before being called in. So of course, I immediately thought something was wrong. While at this appointment she confirmed that there was no new disease to my spine, let me correct myself. No new metastatic disease. When we looked at the brain scan there was white matter changes, but no metastatic disease. She referred me to a neurologist to rule out; worst case scenario Multiple Sclerosis (MS). Ya’ll my mindset is this; Cancer I believe and always have been the WORST CASE SCENERIO in any situation. Now I’m not going to discredit some of these other god-awful diseases, like MS, but I feel like when someone has cancer that is really as shitty as it gets, and if you can wake up every day and survive that then you can literally take on anything else with ease. No, I’m not freaking out. No, I’m not worried that I may have MS, because I have cancer and that’s equivalent to rock bottom.

What I wasn’t thinking about when I was at the office, was the status of my current disease progression. So, we know that the cancer isn’t spreading but is it dying? Of course, this comes to me well after I left the office, so I sent a message to the portal Friday morning and waited all day Friday and through the weekend for an answer. When I received a message to this morning, I was expecting it to be the answer to my million-dollar question; Is the lesion still on my L4? Per the MRI report there was absolutely no mention of it, which left me wondering if they left it out because it was already something we knew about, or was it left out because it was no longer there. Again, I’m left waiting for answers.

I was checking my e-mail and at 4:55pm today I received an email notifying me that there was a new message in the patient portal waiting for me. I opened the portal and waited for the messages to load, my heart began racing, and suddenly I felt how I felt every time my phone rang, and my prior cancer center was calling with biopsy results. I live in a state of constant anxiety, and it doesn’t seem to get any easier.

According to my oncologist, on my PET scan on 12/5/22 there was no uptake on my L4. She went on to say that the lesion on my back appears to be treated. I read this message about a half a dozen times before the tears began to fill in my eyes and roll down my cheeks. I held Greyson so tight and just cried. Reading that this medication is working with my body to destroy the cancer…I can’t find the words right now to even begin to describe exactly how I’m feeling in this moment. Usually with every win I feel this sense that I’m going to be pushed backwards and this time I don’t. I don’t have this heavy feeling, this daunting feeling of “One step forward three steps back.” Instead, I feel a sense of relief. While facing the reality that there are things i may want but will never be able to have again, I’m finally able to see this bright and beautiful light amidst all the darkness.

I can’t have more children. I can’t get that tattoo to symbolize this journey, but I will be here to watch my children grow up and become the amazing humans I know they will be. I’ll be here to plan my freaking wedding. I’ll be here to obtain my certification in fitness and nutrition. I’ll be here to write my book and help thousands of people just like me. For the first time in almost 5 months, I feel like I can breathe.

I’m not out of the woods yet, there are so many things still up in the air but damn it I’m taking this victory right now and I’m celebrating!