A Long Pause

Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean 2023

My inspiration for this post came from two very special people in my life who are also battling cancer. They both found me by stumbling upon my blog and reaching out to connect. It filled my heart with joy that my journey, even briefly detailed here, impacted them so profoundly that they wanted to meet me.

Their feedback was that they weren't sure if I was still alive as I hadn't written in so many years, and I was not active on social media. Hence, this post. It's not been an easy life since my last update, but it also has been the best kind of life. Sometimes, it is hard to wrap my mind around that. It has ups and downs, like anyone would. As I settle into my many years with cancer, in my mind, it seems like old news, so I’ve just been going about it.

Here is what I've been up to. in no particular order

I became an aunt again.

I was stable on treatment for 5 years.

I adopted a dog from Mexico. Her name is Mila.

I felt shame and guilt for letting people in my life go. Sometimes abruptly.

I learned acceptance and let that guilt go.

I bought a van.

I renovated the van.

I lived in the van, and her name was Lola.

I travelled to escape but learned that I no longer needed to escape.

I have people I talk to every day.

I learn you have to do the work to evolve, and it’s fucking hard but worth it.

I am successful working for myself. 

I've often taken at least two months off a year from work to live and focus on myself.

I've mentored amazing people, and they have done more for my growth than I ever imagined.

I fell in love.

I felt what it was like to be loved.

I've sat in the pain of that love passing but haven’t lost faith that I’ll feel it again and then some.

I learned a thing or three about sailing.

I faced my childhood trauma head-on.

I sit in my shit so I can process it so it doesn’t keep coming back.

I've had brain surgery. Not so bad. I’ve had worse hangovers.

I have set and kept boundaries. 

I have realized boundaries are how I love myself and others simultaneously.

I discovered that anger is only a surface-level emotion.

I realized that normal is not a thing. 

I still eat ketchup chips and will never give them up.

I spend time at the beach weekly.

I realized my job is the least important thing to spend too many hours on.

I learned that I cannot give my energy to others when I don't have enough for myself.

I talk to my three besties from high school once a week.

I still go to Mexico at least once a year.

I went to a silent retreat in Colombia.

I've become closer to my parents in a more honest way.

I am highly skilled in the art of self-care. I now prioritize it. It's not a luxury; it's a necessity.

I take guilt-free naps often.

I've learned not to sweat the small stuff (most of the time).

I have felt survivor guilt more times than I would have liked. I think about you all often.

I have learned to reach out to people when they are on my mind. It has kept me connected.

I am deeply grateful for the support and love from my friends, family, and even strangers who have contacted me. Your kindness has made a significant difference in my journey.

I still have cancer.

I am grateful for having cancer, even through the darkness, because it has made me the woman that I have grown to love even more than I ever thought was possible.

The current state of my cancer

In June 2024, after 5 years of being stable on one treatment, my cancer started to grow back, which meant I had to change treatments.

Summer 2024 was less than ideal, managing side effects from the new treatment as well as the cancer filling my lung lining full of fluid, causing difficulty breathing. My life came to a standstill again. To keep the fluid in control, a tube was surgically implanted in my side to be drained twice a week during in-home care.

By September, the treatment had done its job, and I was feeling strong again and back at life in full force.

In early December, my scan revealed the cancer had all grown back, and then some. I was out of options that were treatments directly targeted to my type of cancer, Her2+. I've spent 7 years with cancer, avoiding chemotherapy treatment and have done very well considering. Still, we needed something to kick the cancer back to buy me time to source a longer-term solution. I was put on straight chemo for 3 months. My lungs started to fill with fluid again during that time, but this time it was both. By early January, I was in emergency, draining a combined total of three litres of fluid from my lung lining. There was still more in there. By the end of January, the tube was implanted back into my left lung, and in March, one was implanted in my right. I continue to have between 1-2 litres of fluid drained each week. Despite these challenges, I remained resilient and determined to find a solution.

In February, a scan revealed that the chemo had not worked at all, and the cancer had continued to grow. My Oncologist wanted to start a new chemo asap, but I needed time to cope. So, I told him I needed a vacation before we moved forward with anything else. A week and a half later, I was sitting by a pool in Mexico to give my brain and body a break from the last 9 months. I needed to be rested to make the tough decisions I would need to make.

I came home energized, and survivor mode hit as it has in the past. I became my advocate again, researching alternative treatments and other clinical trials worldwide. I connected with doctors and nurses in the UK, Germany, New York, Detroit and Vancouver. I had been off treatment since February 12th, and I was getting into a risky zone without having something to stop the cancer from growing. It has been an exhausting couple of months, to say the least. Active cancer is a full-time job.

Fast forward to today. I am now trying to qualify for a clinic trial in Vancouver for a new targeted Her2 therapy. Still, I may be unable to meet all the criteria to be accepted into the trial. The specifics of the criteria are incredibly confusing. In the meantime, my Oncologist and I have decided to start a treatment called Enhertu because waiting any longer is too risky. Fingers crossed, this 3rd treatment is the charm and will work long enough until a new treatment is available in our healthcare system and I qualify to receive it.

Yeah, I've drawn the short stick in life, but seven years of this has proven my resilience. I have so many people who love and support me. Should I let people help me more? Everyone keeps telling me I should. I'm working on it. Living with cancer has given me the perspective to be grateful for everything I have and may have made it a lot easier to keep pushing through with anything life wants to throw at me.

Don’t get me wrong—I break down. I’m not that good. But I have done enough work on myself to be able to sit in it, process, and pull myself out. I also have the help of so many people, experiences, and, of course, Mila, who put a smile on my face every day.

Lola, my home from 2020 - 2022

My Mila Moo