Day 32 - The Worst Day of My Life
February 26th will forever be etched into my core. I don’t remember the day before nor do I remember the day after. It is a day I woke up full of hope. Ready to take on whatever life was going to throw at me next. When I say I remember, it doesn’t include all the details. There are certain moments that flash into my mind. One when I’m laughing. One when I’m crying and another when there was no emotion at all. These moments may even be what my sub-conscious gave to me and may be the version given to me only at this time because I can’t wrap myself around the real truth.
The last memory of that day was a hug from my friend and CEO of my company, Steve.
My words, “This isn’t supposed to happen to me.”
His words, “I know” and hugged me tighter.
I wore a black dress, black leggings and knee high boots. Look good, feel good is how I start most days. Austin, my sister-mom-friend (will explain this description a bit later) and Steve’s wife picked me up early. I had an appointment at Olive Fertility Clinic to talk about freezing my eggs. Hope for the future was my state of mind. We sat and went over all the details followed by an ultrasound to see how many viable eggs I had. I don’t remember the exact count but for a 35 year old woman it was quite good. Wonderful, some good news! The fertility doctor kept it coming too. Did you know you get a discount when you have cancer? There aren’t too many perks about the big-C but I would consider this one of them. That and not having to shave your legs because chemo kills all your hair follicles. Austin and I, in the nature of woman, thought this was a steal!
“Well if there is a discount…”
“How could I turn that down…”
Remember, I joke to make the dark seem lighter. I made an appointment for the next day to suction out those future babies. I do love a deal.
There was a lot of laughter that morning. Even when we made our way to my next appointment to see Dr. Simmons, a BC Cancer oncologist assigned to my care. We had met her a week earlier as well. In that appointment, we had not yet received my biopsy results. She gave me two plans for treatment. One called “The Cure Plan” and the other “ The Maintenance Plan”. The first if the cancer was isolated only in my breast and lymph nodes, the second she might as well should have called it the “You’re Doomed Plan” the way she presented it— for if the cancer had spread. At this point in time, I trusted her. I was putting my life into her hands hoping she would take all of the criteria about me into consideration when providing a plan to save my life. They wanted me to start chemo in 3 days. I assumed that she had reviewed the full body MRI results I had sent her showing signs of it spreading and was making these decisions to start my treatment with all the information in mind. To my surprise she never reviewed them. I am sympathetic that cancer has become a real common beast these days and she has a lot going on— I get it. But if i’m going to put my life in your hands you better be prepared.
We left that day with a new appointment date for the following Monday. No decisions about treatment will be made (stated by me) until they review my MRI with their internal technicians and my full biopsy results were final. At this point, they were making treatment decisions on what seemed like no information at all in my opinion. I felt very rushed and stressed over the major life decisions they expected me to make on the spot. If you know me, especially in a work capacity, my ability to make a “quick start” decision is quite difficult. Especially a major one like the ones that cancer forces you to make. I need to research, understand all options, be aware of the known risk, and then sit and ponder it before pulling the plug. Take a look at some of the major life altering decisions I had to make in a very “quick start” type of way. Pushed way out of my comfort zone of having all the information, but making the best decision at this moment in time, based on what information is available.
Do I jump in with two feet with BC Cancer and trust they have my best interest at heart given their volume of cancer diagnosis and experience? Or do I get a second opinion and start this process of reviewing scans and reviewing opinions all over again with a new doctor?
Do I start treatment ASAP or do I wait until I can complete proper research and make a more informed decision either on my own or with a new medical team?
Do I freeze my eggs in hopes that I will one day be able to have children or even live long enough to raise a child? Keep in mind that saying yes to this pushes receiving treatment out at least 1 month leaving the door open for the most aggressive of the breast cancers to continue to grow inside me, and potentially spread.
Do I start my journey with chemotherapy or somehow try to get out of it? Do I risk my quality of life for what seems like months or years to kill not only the cancer cells, but the healthy cells in my body that I have spent years trying to keep strong?
Do I forego all pharmaceutical treatment plans and try to attack it with a natural protocol of supplements and healthy foods?
Do I chose a treatment option in a different country? Japan, Germany and Mexico have great programs not based around chemotherapy like North American treatment protocols. Financially what can I afford?
Do I complete a mixture of all of these methods? If so, what combination?
All of these decisions affected the other. Some delayed me starting treatment which put my body, especially my brain, at risk. The cancer was a time bomb that already went off, but there were hidden land mines everywhere. Unpredictable. One wrong turn or misstep and I could be in a worse situation than I stood in at that moment. Some of them went against what I believe I should be putting into my body considering I have done my best over the years to keep it as healthy as possible. There was also a financial impact. I tell you, cancer isn’t cheap even if you do choose to be treated with a protocol covered under Canadian health care. And, all of them had a time limit, which felt like time was sped up, times ten. How in the hell, under so much stress, pressure, and fear of the unknown am I going to do this?
Well, I was so very, very fortunate to have my own personal saviour, volunteer to be with me every step of the way. I’m going to tell the story about Austin now because I can’t tell the story of the worst day in my life without telling you about the impact she has had on me.
As mentioned earlier, Austin is my CEO’s wife. She is a gentle, generous and a very warm human. I wouldn’t say we had a close relationship before all this. We saw each other at work events and casually when she would pop into the office. We never really had too many in-depth conversations, but she was always ready to give you a warm hug and gentle smile whenever she saw you. Austin does not only pour out love and warmth, she is also a very well researched in what seems like a 1000 different topics and areas of life. From design to nutrition. From tea blending and gardening to “how to buy a quality wig”. It feels as though you can ask her anything and she not only will give you a thoughtful answer, but it will be based on well-researched facts. If she doesn’t know the answer you most likely have peaked her interest and she will come back to you later with the knowledge.
So how did she end up as my personal saviour you ask?
I told Steve about finding the lump in my breast the day after I found it. I just couldn’t hold it in during our scheduled meeting for work. Afterward, he shared the news with his wife Austin.
What happens next is something I feel I will never be able to repay her for.
She offered up all that knowledge, all that support and wrapped it up in a an extreme gesture of love. During the first week of finding the lump I needed to get away. I asked Steve if I could come to Bowen Island where they live and just take their dog, Bamboo, out for a walk around the lake to try and clear the fog in my head. If you haven’t heard me talk about Bamboo— she is perfect and really the only living thing I wanted to be around that would, or could put a smile on my face. I love her like she is my own and do get to steal her from time to time to pretend she actually is. I could literally go on forever about her. Steve and Austin graciously hosted me on that rainy, gloomy Wednesday. Austin made us lunch— if you have ever eaten her cooking you know that this was also another highlight of the day. Another amazing passion of hers. Austin proceeded to offer to be my health advocate. Someone to attend all my appointments, help me make informed decisions, consult me on changing up my eating habits, and keep me off the internet by doing much of the research about options and diagnosis for me. I felt so overwhelmed waiting for the potential dire diagnosis that I accepted not really knowing at the time how much it would impact my experience and life in such a beautifully, natural way. She and Steve also set up a Trello board to track everything going on in my life pertaining to cancer. Trello is an organization tool we use in my company to keep projects aligned and information in one place. There is no better way for a project manager by trait, to organize her journey through cancer.
To give you a sense of how above and beyond she went i’ll give you a sense of what that first month was like. I had appointments almost every other day. Everything was moving so quickly from switching medical teams to setting up appointments with multiple fertility centres in the area. We were meeting with my Naturopath, my cancer consultant, Anthony, and with each of these appointments came pages and pages of information. Austin wrote, BY HAND, all of this information throughout the sessions so that I could focus on listening and not worry about remembering it later or taking notes myself. She then transferred all that onto the Trello board for easy access for me to review. If there was anything that came out of those sessions that we needed more information about to make decisions— she would also do the research and post it to the Trello board for me to review. She called to make appointments for me, she chauffeured me around, she gave me multiple hugs, and overall kept me smiling and focused. She came to all my scans and literally held my hand. She stayed in the room until they kicked her out. She asked the questions that I wouldn’t even have thought to ask in so many situations I’ve completely lost count.
She saved me.
She saved me from being buried under the weight of the unknown and the fear that cancer puts inside you.
She gave me hope.
She talked through all my decisions with me without agenda or inflicting any personal preferences. She was a trusted confidant and most importantly, a true friend.
There are people in my life that may not understand why I chose to lean on her instead of them. Why I chose a new relationship over an old one. My support needs and wants through all this was not a competition. So many of you stepped up in so many ways that I will forever cherish in my heart. I hope after reading this you will feel differently about the role Austin played. Could you have been that constant person for me? Because that is what I needed. Could you have went to every single appointment and put in hundreds of hours supporting me on top of your own life? Could you have kept your emotions at intact so that I wouldn’t be worried about you when I should be worrying about me? This is what she did. She didn’t look at me in the same way everyone else close to me did. If you have cancer or some other illness, you know this look. It is worry, it is pity, it is emotion from years of caring for you dripping down their face. It is their confusion of not knowing what to say or do. It is a hard place to be in for anyone. I’ve been there. I feel for you— but it wasn’t about you.
I didn’t expect that from any of you or even Austin for that matter.
Austin was a mom, a sister and a friend all in one. She never cried. Maybe she did on her own time but she turned on her ‘mom’ mentality and stayed strong for me in the hardest moments of my life. I needed someone to hold it together through multiple sessions of bad news and watch me stare death in the face. I have had many people tell me that they are very grateful for Austin. They knew that they would have never been able to be there for me in the capacity she was. They were happy knowing that I was in the hands of such a knowledgable and loving individual helping me make multiple life changing decisions daily. To stand there, right beside me, time and time again, holding me up when the heaviness took me out at the knees. Everyone played a role in keeping me lifted when I felt like crashing. Austin was just able to offer that steady hand and constant companion at the very beginning before I was even able to say it out loud to anyone else.
It was February 26th, 2018. The morning that I described earlier in this post soon became a storm. I would describe it as a tornado with me in the eye of the storm. They say that in the very centre of a tornado is quite calm or still, like everything going on around you was an elusion. It was my second appointment with BC Cancer. They had reviewed my full body MRI results and my biopsy results were final. Austin and I were both feeling optimistic and felt like we could conquer anything! Dr. Simmons entered the room. This is when the memory becomes vague for me. She rolled over on her stool. She explained they have reviewed all the results as a whole and confirmed the biopsy results and that it was indeed Her2+, estrogen and progesterone negative.
“We have reviewed your MRI results…”
And then it happened. Her tone changed, she settled into the lean in and I started to feel numb. It started in my head and rushed threw me like a wave rushing over the sand.
“We have confirmed that the cancer has spread to your lymph-nodes…” ok, ok, I can handle that.
“…it is also in your sternum bone and your liver…” Holy shit, I can feel the blood rush away from behind my eyes. The doctor became blurry.
“…there are also 2 spots found on your brain.” Fuck!
“Unfortunately given these results, we will we removing the “cure plan” and…” That is when it stops. I can’t hear her anymore.
I can’t feel my body. There was silence surrounding me and the life was completely sucked out of me. I glared at the drab wall not crying and not moving. There were murmurs around me that didn’t make any sense. I had completely left my physical body. No longer could I feel. I was lifeless. I was there, but I wasn’t. It was like nothing I have every experience before.
It was shock.
Dr. Simmons hooked me up to a blood pressure machine and was basically non-existent. From what they told be after. I was completely limp. There was no colour in my face and I wasn’t responding to anything verbal. It wasn’t until Austin took me in her arms and held me tight that I finally came back to the present and began to cry. As soon as she let go, I fell right back into that far off place of numbness and nothingness. She embraced me again. I came back once again. Dr. Simmons made the decision that I was not coherent enough to be able to understand what she was telling me. I would have to come back the next day.
I sit here, in the chemotherapy unit almost 1 year later writing this. I can still feel that place— that feeling of being outside my body in an unfamiliar way— unable to comprehend anything happening in that tiny medical room accompanied by one person I loved and another, I now hated.
I don’t remember how we got out of the building. I do remember picking up Bamboo from the office but in that moment, even she couldn’t bring a smile to my face. I just stared out the window, not moving, not crying— feeling numb. All I wanted to do is go to bed. Go to bed and wake up tomorrow in hopes that this was all just a nightmare. I did just that. I took off my “feel good” outfit and wrapped myself in the comfort of my blankets that didn’t add any comfort at all. Austin laid beside me, cradling me. I can’t even imagine what it is like for a person to comfort someone in the state I was in. She must of felt so helpless, I know I would. After a little while of just staring, not being able to get out any emotion at all, I asked Austin to go get Claire. This time there were no jokes and no laughter. Tears and “why me?’s” were all that was left in me. Her holding me tight was all I remember of that encounter. In that moment, that was all she could have done. I didn’t need solutions, I didn’t need jokes— I needed someone I considered part of my soul to feel it with me. And that is exactly what she did.
“We all have two lives. The second one begins when you realize you only have one.”
The rest was all a bit blurry. I remember one moment though. As I’m about to write it, it may be viewed as a little odd. How often do you have your boss in your bedroom? Me, Claire, Austin, Steve and Bamboo— all gathered on my bed sitting in silence at times, breaking in to tears at another, but wait… even a hint of laughter. We were chuckling at Bamboo right in the centre, living her best life surrounded by her favourite humans— and Claire. I wouldn’t have changed a thing about that moment. I will cherish the slightly blurry memory of these people who lifted me up as far as they could in a circumstance that seemed impossible to do so. The pain, the numbness are something that you and I can all push though. It shapes us in a way that you will never understand in the moment but will look back knowing that we are stronger because of it. Each of those individuals in my room that day hold strength in a different way, but together, they surrendered it all to me so that I could have the strength to close my eyes knowing that I had a battle to fight when I opened them again. That is just what I did. With the help of a strong sleeping pill, I closed my eyes and woke up the next day feeling defeated, yet strong enough to rebuild and become the warrior I needed to be to survive.