Moms Don’t Get Sick

When I started this journey I had the clear mindset of beating it. I was going to finish chemotherapy, chop off these boobs, and fry what was left. I never realized how many times the plan would change. Cancer is not something that sticks to the rules. It has its own path it follows and sometimes that path is unfortunately to your brain.

My oncologist had me redo many scans before I had my mastectomy to make sure the cancer was staying where we had originally found it. When those scans came back clear and showed that my tumor and lymph nodes had shrunk, I was over the moon. We were finally getting the upper hand on this nasty disease. My doctor then ordered a precautionary brain MRI because he said HER 2 + breast cancer can be sneaky when it comes to hiding out in the brain. I had had a clear brain MRI in December so I wasn’t too concerned about it. I went to the MRI with my carefree, goofy personality in full swing. I laid in a tiny tunnel with my head in a cage while I tried to pretend I was anywhere else so my claustrophobia didn’t kick in. Once I was done, I left and put the MRI in the back of my daily thoughts until I walked into my next infusion doctor’s appointment and saw my doctor, my nurse, and my nurse practitioner huddled around a computer…

I started to get nervous after seeing that. I had this pit in my stomach like I just knew it had something to do with me. So when I saw all three of them walk into the room when I was only suppose to be seeing the nurse practitioner, my stomach about fell out of my ass. Everything after that was a blur but I vaguely remember uttering the words “no thank you” and then when I was surrounded by them with faces that screamed our puppies just died I said “this can’t be good”. They gently explained to me that the brain MRI showed two spots smaller than a centimeter. My oncologist said he was going to order a more detailed brain MRI for four weeks from then to make sure what they were seeing was real and not a blip on my scan. It was just my luck, or lack there of, that it was the first appointment in six months that I had decided to attend alone. Sam was two hours away working nights and my mom was home watching my babies. I had to then call my husband and wake him up to tell him our worst case scenario had happened.

My cancer center is not only the best when it comes to handling my cancer but they also are the most compassionate people. They got me a private room, someone to sit with me till my people arrived, and one good iv shot of anxiety meds to keep me from hitting the floor. As I waited for Sam, my mind went completely unhinged. I started thinking of my three kids at home and how long I would have with them with this new development. I thought about my mom and dad who would now have to watch as their first baby may not have the long, healthy life they had never second guessed. But most of all, I thought of Sam. I thought of how much we love each other. How I had found him at 19 years old and I knew our love story would never turn old and gray. I thought about leaving my best friend behind to navigate this world and our family on his own. I would have these thoughts endlessly for two weeks straight. I would find myself seeing other people living their lives and being envious of them not watching their time slip away. I would have my head swirl uncontrollably as I laid in bed at time wondering if these two spots would give me 3 months or 3 years to continue my beautiful life. Until finally Sam sat me down and said “those spots are real and we will get them. This is not the end of our story”. That’s when I realized all this doom and gloom was all in my head, pun intended.

When you hear the words metastatic and brain, you obviously go straight to the worst case scenario. Once we sat down and swallowed this enormous pill, we saw the opportunity to not let it be the end of our fight. My radiation oncologist explained to me that she would be able to zap whatever they found in one treatment and thanks to my oncologist for being on top of it, we found this early. So when I got the call four weeks later that this was the real deal and they had not only grew but another one had joined the party I was back to my old self and just said bring it on. Cancer is such an internal fight. Obviously it’s wreaking havoc inside my body but it’s also trying to destroy my strength and confidence in myself. I have gone to the darkest places mentally in the last six weeks that I never want to return to. In the end, I have decided the fight is no where close to being over. I will take whatever steps I need to in order to live as long as I can for my children. I will not allow this cancer to physically and mentally invade my mind. I will be the miracle case that people talk about. I will be the one to say I am in remission or I am in a stable situation with my cancer journey. I will go on to watch my babies grow and I will have so many more years with Sam. I will tell my story and help others fight for theirs. I will not let this cancer get the best of me. I’m too big headed for that.