New Year's Eve and An Anniversary
Today, New Year's Eve, is the five-year anniversary of the metastasis of my cancer, which I celebrate--not because I am glad the cancer spread, but because I am so glad to still be here five years after the fact. Champagne all around! Well, champagne for me, and dog biscuits for the dogs, who are keeping me company this evening as I reflect on the past five years.
Did you know that at least one-third of women who get breast cancer will experience a recurrence? I didn't.
I have metastatic breast cancer.
The cancer that originally appeared in my right breast in 1998 has spread to other parts of my body. In my case, the cancer, despite aggressive treatment, spread through my blood and began to grow in my bones and one lung.
Anyone who has survived a bout or two of localized cancer, as I had, lives with the fear that their cancer will return.
And--in the same way that a few years ago many people considered a diagnosis of cancer to be a death sentence--the first response I had to the news of the metastases was, “This is it. I’ll be dead soon.”
We could quibble over the definition of the word "soon," but I'm here to tell you that I was wrong. It has been five years now, to the day, since I learned that my cancer had spread to my bones, and I’m still here, doing pretty well.
One of the hardest things for me to understand, and accept, about having metastatic cancer is that I will be in continuous treatment for as long as I live.
On the day (New Year's Eve, 2001) that my oncologist, Dr. Robert Livingston, told me my cancer had metastasized, he said we’d start treatment that same day.
“For how long?” I asked, in all innocence, thinking the answer would be three or six months.
His reply was: “For the rest of your life.”
It has taken me years to bend my brain around that information. For as long as I live, and I hope it will be a long time, I will be in cancer treatment. The frequency depends on the drug regimen I’m on, and we change my drugs about twice a year.
I am, however, one of the lucky ones among people living with metastatic disease, because there are quite a few treatment options for women with metastatic breast cancer. For other kinds of cancer, generally speaking, there are fewer options. And some metastatic cancers are very difficult to control, while mine generally responds quickly to treatment. (It keeps coming back, but when it does it responds quickly.)
I’m also fortunate that, except for one tumor in a lung early on, my cancer has stayed in the bones. Mets in other parts of the body can be harder to treat and can do more damage.
So, little optimist that I am, I count these odd blessings. If you are living with cancer, you know what I mean.
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@ Jeanne Sather 2006
I have just recently been diagnosed with sarcoma of my ankle. I will be having limb sparing surgery in a week and a half. I am still struggling to accept the change that has come into my life. Thank you for your words. Keep a positive thought for me.
Posted by: Lisa | January 01, 2007 at 12:37 PM
Jeanne...I am encouraged by your positive attitude. When life gave you lemons, you made lemonade and I am proud of you.
Auntie Joy
Posted by: Joy | January 01, 2007 at 11:17 PM
A great blog. My husband has terminal brain cancer and I'm caring for him at home. He was given 2 months back in May 2005. I started blogging for something to fill those long hours when I couldn't sleep. Sometimes my posts are sad but somehow through it all I find that humour helps keep me positive. I love your attitude; keep up the good work.
Posted by: ruth | January 02, 2007 at 01:00 PM