I hate the "P" word!

It's been 31 months since my Stage IV Breast Cancer diagnosis.  Yesterday I came home from yet another trip to the hospital for my monthly injections and prescriptions.  This is a difficult time for me right now because my last scan showed a small 7mm new lesion on my spine.  It's just a small lesion but it also means that I'm no longer what we call NED (No evidence of disease).  It also means I get to be scanned every two months now to keep an eye on it and praying that it doesn't progress  any further.  Progression is a word that is generally associated with positive things.  But, in the world of MBC it's a horrible word.  None of us want to hear the "P" word!

I've been having a lot of sleepless nights thinking of what may be lying ahead.  It's a waste of energy I know but I think it's only natural to allow my mind to occasionally go to that dark place.  I've been doing pretty well for the most part on my front line treatment.  I've had great quality of life so far despite the side effects.  It's hard to imagine a time where things won't be so easy.  Definitely even harder to imagine a time where I am not here at all.

It truly is a miraculous thing that I am alive today.  Research and modern medicine have given me the gift of time.  Sometimes I am overwhelmed with emotion because I know I am living on borrowed time.  Every day is a gift.

I've been reflecting on how much my life has changed in these last couple of years.  If I was asked to encapsulate my experiences since my diagnosis with one word that word would be...  LOSS.  

A loss of self, a loss of hope for the future, loss of normalcy, loss of friends...  many, many friends.

Cancer loves to take.  It feeds on you in bits and pieces until one day you look at yourself in the mirror and see a complete stranger.  Cancer has definitely humbled me in ways that is impossible to explain to anyone who hasn't experienced it themselves.  I am humbled to have been given the gift of time.  I am also equally humbled that even though my body is slowly breaking down, my spirit remains strong.

In my advocacy work I have met hundreds of men and women that have enriched my life with their stories, their friendship and their genuine presence.  I have also experienced the impact of losing many of these beautiful people to breast cancer.  Sometimes when I lie awake in the wee hours of the morning, images of them begin to swirl through my mind.  Haunting images of dozens of people who have now passed on but left behind tiny messages for the living to embrace.

I see my pal Jimmie who sat in the passenger seat of my car on a road trip while knitting one of her famous Jimmie hats.  A hat that she gifted to me at the end of our trip.  Jimmie was kind, generous and always made everyone around her feel at home and at peace.

I see Judy.  She's dancing on the dance floor with a big smile on her face.  I only knew her for a few short months before she passed.  But to this day I still remember her smile and her determination to live her life on her own terms.  Cancer be damned!

There was Sharon.  A wonderful spunky lady who joined me on a mission to set up an on-line support group for women above the age of 40 who have been diagnosed with MBC.  Starting this group made her so happy.  It was a small piece of her that she left behind that continues to grow.  She passed away within a year of starting it but I still maintain this group in her memory.  We call ourselves the Golden Oldies...  ;)

I see Natalie, Jill, Cynthia and Dee.  My Casting for Recovery pals.  All of us suited up in our fly fishing gear with big smiles on our faces.  We were all so happy to be out enjoying something normal together like fishing.  We laughed together, we cried together and we were women on a mission to live no matter what life threw our way.

I also see the two Joan's and my roommate Marie.  We were all definitely living life to the fullest on a cruise to the Bahamas.  Oh boy did we all have a good time!  We danced, we laughed, we ate a lot of food, drank cocktails, drank wine.  We tucked our troubles away and just enjoyed spending time together.

I see Sharon and Theresa, two of my fellow Community Connector buddies who just wanted to be an advocate for others.   I think of Sharon every time I see an emoji.  She was the emoji queen of our group.  Therese was quiet in her determination to make a difference.  They are both greatly missed.

And the stories never end...  there are dozens more.  With each loss of a member of my large circle of friends all living with Metastatic Breast Cancer I am continuously humbled.  It obviously brings to the surface the truths I like to try and ignore.  That one day it will be my turn.  I am both blessed and cursed to be forced to face my own mortality.  There is beauty and bliss in ignorance.  It's hard to live life with hope when you know that some things are not meant for you and forever out of reach.  On the other hand, because I know my time is limited, I don't hesitate to reach as high as I can for those things that enrich my life and the life of others.

Even though I feel an immense amount of loss from the passing of so many friends, they all had a powerful impact on my life.  They gave me the gift of courage.  Courage to get up every day and do the best I can.  Courage to try and leave behind a legacy of living that will haunt those I leave behind with a message of love, kindness and perseverance.  Without their influence, I'm not sure I would be handling my diagnosis as well as I am today.  Without them I would be much more afraid of what lies ahead.  There are lessons to be learned from the dying.  I recently watched a video where I heard this expression: 

"I no longer worry about how long I will live but instead on HOW I live."

What we leave behind is the most important thing.  When I take the time to stop and really think about what I want to leave behind it is not money or things.  It's memories of time spent together.  Having fun with the people I love.   I find that it is important to add into my life time for laughter, good times and selfless moments that lead to great rewards.  I have quickly decluttered my life and narrowed it down to only those things that are most important to me. Living life simply and slowing down the pace has allowed me to see many important things that I was once missing.

Since my diagnosis, here is what I've learned:

We are not in control of anything.
Life should be lived authentically.
Just because someone is dying that doesn't mean they are no longer living.
There is strength and wisdom to be gained with acceptance.
The three most powerful words I've learned:  Let it go!  Let me say that again...  LET IT GO!!

It amazes me how we hold onto things that keep us from living a full and happy life.  I wish I had learned to do that when I was young and healthy enough to truly embrace life more fully than I have.  I spent a good portion of my life worrying about what people think.  Letting fear dictate my every move.  Being forced to face one of the biggest fears we all face, death, has empowered me to truly understand how important it is to just let go of things that really don't matter.

So, yes...  buy the shoes, eat the cookies, drink the wine, dance in the rain,

CLIMB THE MOUNTAIN!!

Go out and live...  truly live your life.