The waiting game....It's never fun, but in the midst of a global pandemic, it has been taken up a notch. It has been longer than expected since I have shared an update and that is due to the fact that I was waiting for more information to actually update you on. Last week marked 6 weeks since I had been off treatment and over 5 weeks since the biopsy of my sacrum. Just as a little recap, that biopsy was completed in order to test whether my cancer has a particular mutation that would qualify me for a new promising drug, since we have come to another fork in the road regarding my treatment plan. I was told the biopsy results would take two weeks for the independent lab to complete, but I didn't hold my breath knowing full well that everything is delayed these days in the midst of COVID-19. While I awaited those results, I completed 10 radiation treatments, started to have pain relief, got off the meds that made me feel lousy, felt super grateful and relieved...and then the pain returned. It's been a bit of a rollercoaster, which seems to be par for the course when I'm in the midst of a recurrence. The good news is that after re-introducing the nerve pain medication, I am feeling better with minimal side effects...bonus! In all honesty, I have actually been surprised at how patient I have been while waiting for these results. (Patience is definitely not one of my virtues!) I have been able to let go of any stress or anxiety about it, knowing full well that it was entirely out of my control. But, come Week #4, I was hoping for some type of update. I called my nurse and was told that the lab had completed 3/5th's of the testing. Fast forward to Week #6, and I was starting to get a little antsy. I checked in once again to see if there were any updates, and that's when the rollercoaster ride continued. The first thing my nurse said was, "the biopsy is positive"...and I literally said, "yes!" out loud. However, my excitement and relief were quickly dampened when she said the lab did not have enough tissue to complete the testing. The "positive" aspect she was referring to was that the pathologist reported that indeed this tumor is metastatic breast cancer that has spread to my sacrum - which is what we already assumed. The fact that there wasn't enough tissue to complete the testing for the mutation was devastating. It has been very unsettling to be off treatment for 6 weeks; the longest I have ever gone in 9 years living with MBC. And now to top that off with feeling like that biopsy of my bone (which was not fun), and the subsequent 6 weeks of waiting...has all been a total waste. The plan now is as follows:
There are a few other important considerations that further complicate things. The one that weighs heavily on my mind is that no one knows if this tumor mutation survives in tissue that has been preserved for many years. There is a great chance that even if I have a positive mutation, the test will be negative because the tissue they are testing is 3 years old. On top of that, what if there still isn't enough tissue there to test? Do we have to wait until my tumors grow large enough to have a painful biopsy yet again in order to have a complete test? All of this scares me. To top it all off, communication with my treatment team has been poor and for the first time in 9 years, I have felt very in the dark and have been left with a lot of unanswered questions. For now, I am focusing on the hope that being back on some type of treatment contains my disease and hoping/wishing/praying/pleading that there is enough tissue in my ovaries to complete the testing and that the result is positive. I continue to practice letting go of what I cannot control and will continue to live, love, laugh and soak up every moment I can....despite remaining on this rollercoaster. xoxo, Meg Mike and I enjoyed a hike last weekend and coming upon this tree felt so poetic to me. Sometimes we are forced to bend so much that we think we might break. It's amazing what all living things can endure.
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It's not quite the exciting package one hopes for that appeared on the front porch today. No fun new pair of shoes from Nordstrom or random gadget from Amazon. This package is filled with potential to cause a range of symptoms from nausea, vomitting, diarrhea, fatigue, low white blood cell counts and mouth sores...just to name a few. But, this small box of 21 capsules is also filled with hope, potential stability and the return of healthier days. The only thing I do know for sure is that this package is filled with a whole lot of uncertainty. And although I am used to living with a great deal of it, this time the unknown seems a bit scarier. This new medication is one of two new drugs I will be starting this week. This oral medication is called Ibrance, and is also known by the generic name of Palbociclib. Ibrance is what is known as a "targeted therapy". In very simplified terms, targeted therapies aim to attack the cancer cells without harming the body's normal, healthy cells. Therefore, targeted therapies, while they come with their own list of side effects, aren't as toxic as traditional chemotherapy agents. Ibrance is a targeted drug that blocks proteins in the cancer cell which in turn helps prevent the cells from dividing to create new cancer cells. I will be taking Ibance daily for 3 weeks, followed by 1 week off which will allow my body some time to recover and for my blood counts to bounce back up. Due to the high risk of my white and red blood cell counts dropping significantly, I will have blood work drawn every two weeks to make sure I am safe to continue on this treatment. Not only does this week mark the start of Ibrance, but it will also be my first time receiving Faslodex. The drug has the generic name of Fulvestrant and is the intramuscular injection that I will receive every two weeks. The two of these drugs together have shown very promising results in recent studies. You could read about that here. Faslodex is known as an "estrogen receptor downregulator" which means it binds to the estrogen receptor site of cells and causes the receptors to break down, thereby preventing the normal cellular responsen to estrogen. This is important since my breast cancer is fed by estrogen. Even though I am in medically induced menopause, we want to make sure there isn't any other way these cancer cells can by fed by any stray estrongen that may be floating around. I will receive my first injection of Faslodex on Thursday, along with my monthly injection of Zoladex that keeps my ovarian function supporessed. On Friday I will meet with a gynecological oncologist at Karmanos to discuss my surgery to have my ovaries removed. Fingers crossed that I tolerate this treatment well with as minimal side effects as possible. And of course, that this treatment plan is successful! I have blood work next week to check how my counts are responding and will then see Dr. F the week after that to see how I am tolerating the treatment. It sounds like I will have scans in about 3 months to see how things are looking. As always, thank you so much for the love and prayers. Please keep them coming! xoxo, Meg ps - We just got back from a trip to California where I was invited to the Dr. Susan Love Research Foundation Metastatic Breast Cancer Collateral Damage Project. I am really looking forward to sharing more about that soon. But until I have the energy to write that post, enjoy these little snapshots of my free day spent with Mike. :) There is no doubt about the fact that cancer is one sneaky beast. Lurking in the darkness. Slowly creeping up through the shadows and rearing it's ugly head at any time. I have always known this. I have lived this while watching relatives and friends face the disease before I did. But it is another thing altogether when cancer sinks its fangs into you. I have been neglecting the blog so much over the last couple of years because truthfully, all has been relatively stable for me since my recurrence at the end of 2014. Life has been full and busy - just like I have always liked it. Work, photography, travel, family, pups, friends, cooking...fitting as much into each day as possible. This summer I was feeling the best I have in years. One of my bff's and I devoted ourselves to a morning bootcamp class before work and I faithfully attended for about 12 weeks. It felt so good to finally feel more like myself - energized, strong, and comfortable in my own skin. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly that can all change. On September 15th I awoke around 2am to excruciating back pain...the kind that is impossible to describe unless you have experienced bone pain from cancer. I have felt this before and know it all too well. I felt like my back was going to shatter in a million tiny pieces. I woke Mike up and asked him to please try to rub my back in the hopes of some relief. To make a long story short, after suffering through the work day and barely getting through it, I ended up in the ER that night. This started a cascade of events which have led to where we are today. At the risk of skipping some details, but saving some energy, here is the "highlight reel".... ;) -Completed bone scans, CT scans and spine MRI's the last week of September -Learned on Sept 29th that I had progression in my spine at multiple levels which also caused my T8 vertebrae to be fractured -Underwent high dose radiation treatments to my spine every day before work for two weeks which concluded on October 14th -After initially only feeling some fatigue and slight nausea, I encountered severe side effects the week after radiation ended. My esophagus was an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire of radiation and the damage was unexpected and extremely painful. It was not a sore throat due to the radiation burn that you would expect. It was more like trying to swallow glass through a tube that had narrowed down so tight that even water caused ridiculous pain and coughing. It become so bad that I avoided food and liquid altogether; resutling in a 8 pound weight loss over 4 days, along with severe exhaustion and overall feeling like crap.
-Could finally start eating towards the middle/end of last week and have been feeling MUCH better! So, that brings us to today. I went in this morning for a follow up with Dr. F, my oncologist. It is too exhausting to detail right now but basically, I thought he wanted to stay the course on my current treatment because it has been keeping the rest of my body free from disease and limiting the disease to my spine. I was taken by surprise this morning when he immediately stated he wants to switch my treatment plan completely to two targeted therapy drugs. I had been feeling in my heart that it was time to switch treatments but I guess I just didn't expect it today and I wasn't prepared. It unleashed a flood of emotions and uncertainties about the future.... What will these side effects be like? Will this change my quality of life? Will I be able to maintain my normal busy schedule? Will I feel nauseous? Fatigued? Lose/gain weight? Will this work and for how long? What if I have another progression soon and blow through yet another treatment option? What if it doesn't keep the disease limited to the bone? What will happen if this fails? I have been beyond blessed these last 5 1/2 years to maintain a pretty great quality of life despite all I have been through. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to start to head down that road of jumping from one treatment to the next because things have stopped working. I don't want to hear, "there is nothing else we can do for you". I learned tonight that another young friend with MBC was just told those exact words yesterday. She has entered hospice and it's just heartbreaking. The other tough part of today was making the decision to finally have my ovaries removed. My disease is fed by estrogen so my ovarian function has been medically suppresed since I was first diagnosed...first through chemo and immediately following through that lovely shot of Zoladex I receive every single month. Dr. F has always said that there is no real difference between the Zoladex and having my ovaries surgically removed. I told him to tell me point blank if it would better my chances for survival to have them removed and he said the research can't prove that. So, we decided to stay on Zoladex and not rock the boat by having surgery. Well, today he finally said, "If it was me, I would have them out." That's all I needed to hear. I know it will be a pretty straightforward laproscopic procedure, and I am not worried about the surgery itself at all. But it just feels like another huge punch in the gut. Another glaring reminder of all that cancer has robbed from me. I feel like I have been dismantled piece by piece of all that makes me a woman - the loss of my hair, my eyelashes, my breasts, my ovaries, my ability to bear children. It is a pain that runs so very deep and having my ovaries removed opens that wound up...a wound I have tried so desperately to close up and allow to heal. My new treatment plan will consist of two new drugs I will write more about later. They are extremely expensive so I have to wait to start them until I receive insurance authorization and I don't know when that will be. I will take an oral pill daily for 3 weeks and then have 1 week off, then repeat. The other drug is an intramuscular injection that I will receive in the good ole' tush. I will receive it every 2 weeks for the first 3 rounds and then every 4 weeks after that. There are side effects of these new drugs that are highly likely, including a significant decline in my blood counts which will place me at high risk for infections as well as cause fatigue. There are many other possibilities but these are the most likely. I will have blood work completed every 2 weeks to make sure my counts stay in a range that is safe enough to receive the treatment. So this is where we are, friends. This is the plan until this disease starts crawling back up from the darkness and threatening to rock our world once again. But, with each attack it wages, I will beat it back down and chase it right back into the shadows...running it out of the sunshine where I choose to live my life. Please keep me in your prayers. I am feeling a bit overwhelmed and down right now, which is not a place I like to be. Please keep Mike and my family in your prayers. Spefically, please pray for wisdom for our medical team to help us to make the right choices for my care; for strength to endure whatever may come our way; and for faith and perserverance while remembering that we are in God's hands and are loved and cared for every step of the way. I promise to write more soon and keep you all updated. Thank you for always being the most incredible support system anyone could every ask for. It is appreciated more than you will ever know! xoxo, Meg Night time used to be my favorite part of the day. The time when Mike and I would cozy up in bed together and I would half jokingly, but half seriously, prod him to tell me his "hopes and dreams" for the future. In a particularly funny voice, I would say it the same way every time, "Sooo....what are your hopes and dreams?" He would always laugh and roll his eyes at me and it became a silly game we would often play. But all joking aside, I loved those conversations about our dreams for the future....where would we want to live, what trips were we going to take, what did we want to name our kids. Mike has always had this incredible way of simply living in the moment and being completely content with that. While I have always been a planner and a dreamer. Not to say I wasn't content with where we were in that moment, but I loved dreaming of the future and what our life would look like. It's one of the most difficult things that cancer has taken from me. I am grateful that after almost five years of living with this disease, I have learned how to plan and dream again. But it's simply not the same. I have to add little disclaimers to my hopes and dreams now when Mike and I talk about them...."If I make it to 40, let's do _______", or "let's go on that trip next year...if my scans are okay." Have you ever seen "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty"? When I think and dream about the future, it's like a scene from that movie with these incredibly beautiful landscapes, bright and vivid colors....and then all of a sudden it's as if my dream balloon pops and I am struck in the face with the reality of living with an unpredictable disease, and my dreams turn to black and white, void of all the magic in that colorful fantasy world. No matter how hard I try, I cannot dream with the same reckless abandon that I once could. Of course every situation has two sides to the story and I like to believe there is always a silver lining to be found. Over these last few years, I have come to appreciate living in the moment more than I ever did before. I have learned that I can still have dreams of the future, but instead of 10 or 20 years down the road, I talk to Mike about my dreams for next year and what we want our life to look like. I suppose it's all about learning how to handle the cards that are dealt to you. It reminds me of one of my very favorite quotes.... I am so grateful that many of my hopes and dreams have come to fruition over the last few years. And even more recently, a big one was a family vacation we all took to Mexico the day after Christmas. The older I get, the more I realize that we really don't need much to be happy in this life. All of the material possessions just don't do it for me anymore. I have the hardest time trying to give my family ideas for gifts for Christmas or birthdays. All we really need is to be surrounded by those we love and share experiences that bring us joy and memories we can hold onto. I was so happy when my family agreed with me last year that rather than exchanging gifts for Christmas, we should take a family trip together. I don't think I had been on a vacation with my brother since I was in the 7th or 8th grade! We all left for Mexico the day after Christmas and not only celebrated the holiday there together, but Mike and I celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary and we all rang in another new year! I am so grateful for this time together and it was a week I will cherish forever. I have been feeling really well overall. Just dealing with some fatigue that seems to be worse lately and some aches and pains that truthfully probably have more to due with aging and having a physically demanding job. Can't blame everything on cancer I guess. ;) I am scheduled for another round of scans on Monday, March 13th and will get the results that Thursday, on St. Patrick's Day. I am taking that as a good omen for this Irish girl! And hey, if the results aren't good, at least I can drown my sorrows in some green beer, right?! :) Please keep us in your prayers at that time in particular, because I am still enjoying a very good quality of life on these current meds and truthfully, I am fearful that treatments down the road might not be so kind.
I am going to try to make more of an effort to keep up with the blog. Not only to share what has been going on with me, but also because it is a cathartic experience and I think it's important I make it a priority for myself. There are times when I am feeling down that it really helps me sort through my feelings, or look back on all I have been through in order to help give myself a little pep talk to keep on truckin'. I am also grateful it has served as a time capsule of sorts since this journey began and I want to make sure I contine that. I can't believe I only posted twice last year so hopefully I will take some time to document some of the great things that happened, like throwing out the first pitch at the Tigers Game! It was a pretty amazing experience! So, now here I sit during my new favorite time of the day...the very early morning (of Saturday or Sunday in particular), before the sun rises. If I haven't run myself ragged the day before, I am able to crawl out of bed when Gracie wakes me at 6:00am. The house is dark, as is the entire neighborhood. After feeding the dogs, I start the fireplace and sit with a cup of coffee on the couch. This is the one time of the day where I allow myself to bask in the quiet, in the stillness that surrounds me, and be alone with my thoughts. It is in this time of the day that I enjoy the gift of another sunrise, another day full of hope and possibilities...and that in itself is enough...a dream that has already come true. xoxo, Meg ps - Happy Valentine's Day to all of you...just an extra excuse to tell those you love just how much you appreciate them. Nothing better than that. So with that said, I hope you know how much I genuinely appreciate all of you who continue to be amazing friends and devoted family and those who keep us in our prayers even if you have never met us. Sending you lots of love today! Here I am! Did you think I forgot about you? A little sneak peek of our adventure in Maui.... A new addition to our family! Meet Gracie! On Tuesday I had my radiation simulation, including another awesome tattoo...
What a beautiful Easter Sunday it was today! I think it might finally be safe to say that spring has officially arrived. Thank goodness for that. When the sun is shining and I can feel the warmth on my face, it immediately boosts my spirits. As I sat in church this morning and celebrated this holy day, I also couldn't help but reflect on how grateful I was to even be there. Three years ago, I laid in bed for days - including Easter Sunday because of how awful I felt after my very first round of chemotherapy. Sometimes it seems like yesterday - and other times it seems like another lifetime. Last month I celebrated my 32nd birthday and two days later, I celebrated my 3rd cancerversary. It's always a very emotional time for me - full of reflection, gratitude and heartache. I can't believe all I have endured - physically & emotionally - and although it's rare for me to ever give myself a pat on the back, I will say that I am so proud of myself for all I have been able to get through. Some days are harder than others - but I have managed to get through each and every one of them. Here is what I shared on facebook on March 23rd. "Three years ago today, my world was changed forever after receiving news of what felt like a death sentence. These past few years haven't been easy but I can truly say that I have experienced more joy and happiness than I ever thought would be possible again. I've learned to never give up hope and to make a difference with my life. "Life is too short" sounds like a cliche until circumstances force you to realize how true it really is. So make it count! Thank you to my incredible family & friends for being there for me every step of the way. And to my amazing husband, Mike...thank you for never leaving my side- through the good and the bad. I couldn't do this without you and I thank God for you every day. Thank you so much for all of the birthday love! I am truly grateful to be celebrating another year and growing older...a privilege denied to many." The day before my birthday, I also had an appointment with Dr. F. We discussed a lot of different things, primarily related to a few different side effects I have been experiencing from my treatments. Nothing major - but of course it ended up in scheduling something like 10 appointments in the next 12 weeks. Ugh! I have had some drama since with a hematologist regarding my platelet count, but I'll fill you all in on that another time.
We also ended up scheduling my next round of scans, which will be Monday, June 2. I will then get my results on Thursday, June 12. So, start firing up those prayers. :) I have lots of other updates including great improvements I am helping make at the Detroit Race for the Cure this year to recognize women with metastatic breast cancer and young women facing breast cancer, information about this year's Ride for the Cure, as well as information I am hoping to share after attending the Living Beyond Breast Cancer's Annual Conference for Women Living with Metastatic Breast Cancer which will take place next weekend in Philadelphia. I will definitely try to update more soon. For now, thank you so much for your constant love, support and prayers. I am truly grateful and blessed to never walk this road alone. xoxo, Meghan Well, a delayed "Happy New Year" seems to be in order. It's been a couple months since my last post and as I revisited my last entry, I am once again reminded of the roller coaster of emotions this disease is. But I suppose that's just life for all of us. It ebbs and flows, oscillating between the good times and the tougher times. The new year started off perfectly while Mike and I continued our road trip throughout California. It was truly a trip of a lifetime and I am so incredibly grateful we decided to check this off our bucket list. We arrived in San Francisco the day after Christmas and explored for a few days before venturing through Carmel and Monterrey on our way to Big Sur. After a few phenomenal days there, we made our way down to Santa Barbara for some relaxing and wine tasting, then Pasadena for the Rose Bowl (pinch me!) and finally to San Diego for a few days! We couldn't believe that each day seemed to be even better than the last and that we packed a lifetime of memories into 9 days. It was incredible! Here are a few of my favorite images I was able to capture with Canon 5D Mark iii ... And since I didn't take my "big girl camera" into the Rose Bowl with me, here are a few iphone shots I caught during that incredible day! The week after we returned home from California, my mom celebrated her retirement. Although I was so happy she was able to do this, it also meant that she would basically be moving down to Columbus to help care for my Aunt Bev. Since that time, my aunt has endured a lot. She has seemed to suffered complication after complication due to her ovarian cancer and has been in and out of the hospital since. She was recently stable enough to start chemo again but was once again hospitalized on Monday. Please keep her in your prayers so that she can get through this time and become healthy and strong once again.
As if all of that wasn't hard enough, my mom also suddenly lost one of her best friends of nearly 40 years. You might remember me talking about John & Paul and our visit to their vacation home in Florida here. Losing John was so tragic and unexpected - it sent all of us who loved him reeling. His funeral service in Michigan was just last Monday and was beautiful and heart breaking all at the same time. Then just last Saturday, I attended yet another funeral service. This time it was for a dear, sweet friend who was part of my support group at Karmanos. My friend, Susan was kind, compassionate and courageous. She started her battle with metastatic breast cancer about a year before I did and we had come to be friends once I started our young women's group. The celebration of her life was beautiful, but of course it was especially difficult knowing she died from complications of the disease that I also live with. My heart breaks for her wonderful husband and children. So the first couple of months of 2014 have definitely been trying at times, and reminders of how precious and fragile life is. Despite all of that, I have been feeling really well - aside from being freezing cold all the time in this polar vortex. Thank God for the occasional hot flash, right?! I have really been enjoying work lately and have been treating a great group of patients, spending lots of time with family & friends, and enjoying the occasional lazy Sunday with Mike and Wrig just hibernating by the fire. I'm also grateful that I have been feeling stronger mentally and emotionally lately, especially so I can try to support others going through similar experiences. I can't tell you how often I receive emails, phone calls or facebook messages asking me to reach out to women who are newly diagnosed, or someone who has recently become metastatic. Or how often I receive emails from women who have somehow come across this blog and can relate and want to connect. Although I often feel guilty that I can't stay in close touch with everyone I hear from, I am grateful that I can try to be of some support to others as they experience a similar journey. However, with that gift, comes a price. I have lost more good friends than any 31 year old should ever have to experience, and each time I hear of another survivor going through a hard time - a treatment failing, a disturbing scan, or new side effects with negative impacts on quality of life - it is heart wrenching. After losing Genevieve, Lorri and Jen last year, it made me question whether or not I even wanted to reach out and become close with other women because it is so hard when I lose them. But, there is no way I could ever really do that. I would never turn my back on someone that needed a shoulder to lean or someone to talk to while they travel this road. And I would never want someone to treat me that way either - to give up on me during my hour of need because it was "too hard". I have had a few people pull away from me after my diagnosis and it just hurts. I tried not to take it personally and realize it was just that they didn't know how to cope with what I was going through - but it's painful none the less. I am really grateful for a close group of friends that I have who are all young women in their 30's living with metastatic breast cancer. I am grateful for their love, guidance and the support we all give to each other on what sometimes is a daily basis. Please always continue to show your love and support to someone who is ill or struggling, or who might seem fine but deals with chronic illness - you might never know what a positive impact that can have on them. I hope everyone is surviving the longest, coldest winter EVER! I know all of us around here in Michigan are definitely ready for it to be over. I am so excited we are almost to March, which means that spring will be around the corner. I can't wait to open windows, see green grass and enjoy my beautiful backyard. Thanks for all the love and support. Thank you to those of you who I may have never met but come across the blog somehow and reach out. I wish I could respond to every comment and message. Each one means so much. I'll post an update again after I see Dr. F on March 13 - which will hopefully be a pretty uneventful visit. xoxo, Meghan How is it that time just passes in the blink of an eye? All of a sudden, here we are at the end of another year. It never ceases to amaze me at how fast life continues to roll on - no matter what we are dealing with. I suppose that is a good thing in many ways. It helps drag us along during those tough times, until finally we can feel the weight start to lift and the sun shine on better days. As I sit here reflecting on this year, I feel such a mix of emotions and thoughts - all of which culminate to one overriding message. Perseverance. The year has been filled with many up's and down's - which is true for all of us - although especially lately, it seems like the lows have been more frequent and deeper to crawl out of. We have had many blessings including a new home, continued good scans, and countless great memories with family and friends. But, this year has also brought many challenges for us emotionally which have tested our faith and trust in the greater plan that God has for us. The past few months have been the most challenging for me emotionally since my initial diagnosis. Due to a variety of issues, I hit a new low and struggled to even find the joy in each day. For the first time, I truly wondered if I was being punished for something. I felt an overwhelming sense that we were continually knocked down and made to endure heartache after heartache, while it seemed like others around us, received abundant blessings and joy. It is a very dark and lonely place to be. As I have worked through these times, I have simply resigned myself to the fact that our lives will forever be filled with pain and heartache. Living with this disease has impacted our lives in countless ways, many of which I am just now starting to fully understand and experience. The continued physical toll is heavy, but the emotional toll is often times unbearable. I have recently felt as though this can turn you into a pretty selfish person - focusing on how hard you have it - how sad you may feel - how your future will never look like what you always thought it would. I fell down a slippery slope of sadness and guilt and failed to see how I was pulling Mike down right along with me. The one positive aspect of hitting your own personal rock bottom, is that you have no choice but to go up. To make the slow climb out of the darkness and back into the light. It allows you to take time to reflect, to evaluate, and to reset your life's compass back on the path that you would most like to travel. I share these personal struggles not only as a cathartic tool, but to also help remind myself that it is okay if I am not able to feel grateful, positive and optimistic 100% of the time. I have struggled with guilt and feeling like a fraud when I experience these tough times because so many of you always think of me as being so happy and positive. I am trying to release myself of these chains that bind me to the sense that because I am alive, I must be grateful at all costs - because I have lost friends that would trade places with me in a heartbeat. I am learning that because I have been able to stay in remission, doesn't mean the collateral damage of this disease will leave me - and that it's okay and perfectly human to have moments of despair, sadness and even self pity. Yes, I am so grateful - for so much - but this life is also very difficult at times - more difficult than I would have ever imagined. Life is about perseverance. It is about riding the waves of the good times, but being able to pick yourself back up when you get knocked down with your face in the sand. It's learning how to brush yourself off and get back out there to try to ride that wave of happiness once again. Because in the end, those moments of pure joy are worth every second of despair and defeat that may be encountered along the way. - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Seems like I have sand and surf on the brain, huh? :) Well, that's because Mike and I are leaving for California the day after Christmas. To say that I am excited, is definitely an understatement. We have wanted to take this trip and venture along the Pacific Coast Highway for years and I am so glad we are taking the time to do it. That is one gift that living with disease can give. It makes you realize that there is no sense putting off your hopes and dreams if you have the ability to make them a reality. Do it today. Do it now. We never know what tomorrow will bring. We need this time away together so badly and I cannot wait to see the ocean, and the Redwoods and watch the sunset with Mike by my side. Not only will we be celebrating our 6th anniversary on this trip, and New Years Eve, but we will be celebrating another round of great scans! I saw Dr. F last week and found out that everything still looks great! He is very please and so are we - to say the least! I will continue with my current meds and 6 month scans - no need to change course. Thank you all so very much for your prayers and support. Going through those tests is such an anxiety ridden time, and your loving words of hope and encouragement mean so much to us. Thank you for loving us and supporting us along this journey. We hope you have a wonderful holiday season with your nearest and dearest. We look forward to great things in 2014. See you in the New Year! xoxo, Meg Can't wait to share our images from California in the next post. Until then, a few iphone pics of my beautiful friends, family, pup and yard. :) I find that I come to this safe place - my safe place - to bear my soul and shed my tears during some of the toughest times. It is my way to cope, to attempt to lift some of the pain and heartache through pouring out my thoughts and emotions - and it helps build me back up through your caring and thoughtful words and messages. You will never know the depths of my gratitude for that. What I hope that others realize, is that I truly do have {many!} more good days than bad. I have had such a great year so far, filled with many great memories and fun times - despite all of the hard times and huge losses. It's just that I don't find myself coming to the blog as often when things are going so great. I am out living it up and packing as much into my days as possible. This passage sums it up best and truly resonates with my soul.... I realized I should try to take some time to write and share my thoughts on the good days too. I know that somehow this blog has come into the lives of so many others living with chronic disease, or those newly diagnosed and I want you all to know that life can truly be filled with so much joy and happiness despite the circumstances that we happen to be in with our health. The past few months have been packed with great times. Mike and I, along with Mike's Uncle Pat, joined my friend Kyle for the Susan G. Komen Mid-Michigan Ride for the Cure. Kyle and I completed the hilly 30 mile course, while Mike and Uncle Pat were rockstars completing the grueling 100 mile trek! It was a really fun day and I'm so grateful I was feeling well enough to do this. Thank you to everyone that donated to our team or cheered us on from afar. Mike and I have had a blast at a few of our friends weddings, we have been loving our new home & neighborhood (and renovated kitchen!), and staying busy with working a lot - while we each continue to take on new projects. {A quick little before & after shot of the kitchen. I put an entire album of pics on my facebook page if you want to see more of our remodel.} Two weekends ago, my wonderful friend Brinley and her sweet little Andrew came to visit from West Palm Beach. It had been over a year since I had seen them and our little reunion couldn't have been more perfect! We packed in so many fun things, enjoyed amazing fall weather, and shared tons of laughs - just like we always do when we are together. It seriously does my heart so much good when I am with them, and I couldn't be more grateful that they made the trip up here. (We missed you, Andy!) Here are just a few shots from our weekend together... Another cool thing that has happened recently is that I was asked to be included in a panel of some of the top cancer researchers and oncologists in Michigan, for Ambassador Magazine's cancer awareness issue. I was honored to be representing cancer patients on this panel of clinicians, and it was a very interesting conversation to be a part of. The magazine was recently published (with none other than Jennifer Aniston on the cover!) and I received my copy in the mail last week. Pretty cool, huh?! On the medical front, I have had my usual injections every 4 weeks and have continued to see Dr. F every 8 weeks. Things continue to look pretty good, and I couldn't be more grateful for that. We have scheduled my next round of scans, which will be the first week of December. I am hopeful that I will still be N.E.D (no evidence of disease) and can enjoy the holidays (and our recently planned trip to California!) to the fullest.
As we are in the midst of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I could (and probably should) devote an entire post to my thoughts about awareness vs. action, "Pink Washing" and all sorts of other thoughts about what is great and not so great about this month. But for now, I would just like to honor my amazing friend, Jen Smith who passed away last month. Take a minute to watch her video or check out her books to learn how to "live legendary" despite the hand that is dealt to you in life. Lastly, and definitely most important, I would please like to ask all of you amazing prayers warriors to extend those prayers to my Aunt Bev and her family. My mom's older sister, Bev has been dealing with lots of medical appointments and tests recently, and today underwent major surgery which also helped to confirm what she is dealing with. We know it is cancer, likely ovarian, and has spread throughout parts of her abdomen. After she recovers from this surgery, she will be starting chemotherapy. Please keep her, my Uncle Herm and cousins in your thoughts and prayers. I am also requesting prayers for my entire Daley family - my grandma, my mom and all of her siblings, and my cousins. It just seems like everyone has such serious things going on right now and major tragedies to deal with, and it breaks my heart for everyone. I'm just thankful we all have each other to help get through. xoxo, Meg It is true what they say. It's the unexpected moments that get you the most. It's the time when you are just going about your "normal" day that you suddenly get knocked down to your knees. A seemingly ordinary moment to some, is so painful that it takes your breath away.
This was today for me.... ...the first day of school. A day I didn't expect to be much different than any other Tuesday morning. And perhaps that is what makes it sting all the more. That I didn't anticipate the pain - that it caught me off guard. Today was yet another reminder of the most difficult part of this journey. A reminder of all that cancer has stolen from me. A reminder of how deeply it has derailed my life and my future on so many levels. A reminder of what it has not only taken from me, but what it has robbed from Mike as well. The devastating reality that I will never hear a little voice call me, "Mom" and that I will never have the chance to watch Mike become the amazing father I always knew he would be. A reminder that we will never get to experience that moment of taking our child to their first day of school. I saw what seemed like one million facebook pictures of little ones headed off for their first day of school today, I drove behind the school bus while leaving our neighborhood and heard my co-workers talk about the excitement their kids felt as another school year began. It didn't even really hit me then - not until later when yet another patient asked me how long I had been married, followed next by asking if I had children. The question I always dread from those that don't know my dirty little secret that starts with the big "C". After replying with my fake grin and frequently recited, "no, just my 4 legged fur baby", my patient made a remark something to the effect of, "oh you are waiting awhile, huh?" I get this comment a lot, along with...."how old are you...you better get started", or "what are you waiting for?", or even "people your age are selfish nowadays and want to just travel or do other things besides start a family." His question felt like pouring salt in an already excruciating, raw wound. Albeit this is nothing new for me, but I just wasn't expecting it today. I expect the heartache during certain times such as baby showers, photographing newborns, or hearing of others pregnancies. I guess I have learned ways to protect my heart a little bit during those moments. But days like today just take me by surprise. Just like last night did...as I pulled out of a Starbucks parking lot, I saw a little girl fall and skin her knees on the concrete. There was a second of silence, followed abruptly by her loud cry of one word..."Daddy!" I watched him gently scoop her up and soothe her while that sweet little girl clutched her daddy's neck and began to calm down, knowing everything would be okay now that he was there to hold her. I drove out of that parking lot with tears streaming down my face. Not tears for cancer or tears for myself - but tears for Mike. That he may never know what that is like to be the hero in the eyes of his child. Because that is surely what he would be. This is one of the few topics I have never really discussed on my blog, and that is for a few reasons. Not only is it extremely painful and extremely personal, but it is also extremely complicated. I have wanted to be a mother my entire life, and from the second I fell in love with Mike, I couldn't wait to see him become an incredible father to my children. That is the single thing I looked forward to most about our future together. When we began having difficulty trying to get pregnant, I thought it was the worst possible thing we could go through. Then when I learned of my diagnosis and that I would likely be on meds that wouldn't allow me to get pregnant for another 5 years, if at all, I then thought, well, I could always adopt. And I was truly happy with that. But, everything changed after my Stage IV diagnosis. I could write a million paragraphs that attempt to convey the thoughts on my mind and heart about this, but I just don't have the energy. And, in the depths of my own exhaustion and emotional fragility, I am not sure I would do my true feelings justice right now. What I can say is that we have always dreamed of becoming parents, whether our children were biologically ours or not. But, living with Stage IV cancer doesn't bode well for us as adoptive parents and as we have continued along this road, we have learned that even if it was an option, it might not be what is best for us. The decision to pursue adoption brings a lot of risk and potential heartbreak along with it, and I am not sure I am ready to take that on...we have had more than our share already. And even if we were prepared to take that risk, is that what is best for a child? To have a mother that lives from scan to scan with an incurable and deadly disease. As my dear friend Lorri once said, "What's behind their smile? I bet they would never guess what's behind mine." Please remember that everyone you encounter has a story. Just because someone doesn't have children, doesn't mean they don't desperately want them. And even if they could adopt or become a foster parent, it doesn't mean it's the right decision for them. It doesn't mean they are selfish or weird or aren't loving people capable of being wonderful parents. Perhaps it was their choice and they didn't ever want children - that is okay too. Just remember that all of our situations are complicated and that sometimes questions can open wounds that are barely starting to heal. Please believe me when I say that I am truly happy for the blessings bestowed upon my friends or family members that have been able to start a family of their own. I still love documenting the initial days in the life of a newborn through my photography. And part of me doesn't want to completely let go of the hope that I might be able to become a mother some day. But after attending Lorri's funeral service in Cleveland and seeing her two young children there, I just don't know if it's right to bring a baby into our lives, knowing what this disease will likely bring. All I know for sure is that I have a husband that loves me and wants to always put my health above all else. For that, I will always be truly grateful. So, for now, I will try to remain focused on all of the many blessings that I do have. And be thankful that it will be another 364 days before the first day of school again. xoxo, Meg ps - Thank you for all of the kind words regarding the loss of my two dear friends, Lorri & Genevieve. Unfortunately, another one of our friends entered hospice shortly after Lorri died. My friend, Jen is truly remarkable and a single mom to an adorable 6 year old boy. Please keep her and her son, Corbin in your prayers that this time is as peaceful and painfree as possible. Thank you! It's been a wonderful, busy, emotional and difficult summer - all wrapped into one. Thankful for many great memories and experiences, including last weekend at Torch Lake with our friends and their kids. Here are a few quick shots (some from my phone & some from my actual camera) of our relaxing Labor Day weekend.... |
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