When I was diagnosed with stage 2 Invasive Ductal Carcinoma (IDC) in 2023, the first thing that came to mind was how I would tell my Mom & Dad, they were already going through this with my sister, not to mention sharing the news with my husband and daughters, one of whom was just weeks away from giving birth to our first grandchild.
There wasn't much time for a pity party, because within a week of discovering I had cancer, I had no choice but to buckle up, put on my fight gear, and get to work. My life became a whirlwind of appointments, labs, biopsies, scans, bilateral mastectomy, followed by unexpected chemotherapy, and the final breast reconstructive surgery to replace the girls.
Recovering from the mastectomy wasn't easy, and chemo was even tougher. A huge shout-out to Jeff, my love, for cold-capping my head in hopes of saving most of my hair during chemo, which helped restore some normalcy that cancer strips away. The kindness I received from family, friends, church, colleagues, and even strangers continues to humble me today. All of this carried me through a dark time and helped me bounce back stronger than before.
Ideally, my breast cancer story should've ended here.......
Fast forward to August 2024, after routine labs and scans, and I instinctively knew what the news was before I answered the phone call. My memories of meeting my oncologist the first time are hazy, but I vividly recall the second round and her saying, "I'm sorry, it's metastatic and has spread to your liver". The first thing I thought this time "God, I can't do this a second time", but I was reminded that he will carry me through it all. I find so much peace in accepting this.
I've been touched countless times by the small gestures of kindness that remind me how fortunate I am on this journey. It's hard to believe that just over a year has passed since everything changed. While I do experience some serious fatigue, I'm grateful to say that I feel relatively good overall and have managed to keep working full-time. In the upcoming weeks, I'll start radiation to help shrink this bad boy. Of course, I'm also realistic and aware of the statistics; when you look at the numbers, metastatic breast cancer has a median survival of 24 to 36 months. Knowing that my time might be shorter than I imagined has significantly changed my perspective, and I'm determined to help others facing similar circumstances. I realized I didn't know much about metastatic breast cancer or that it's terminal, and it means I've gone straight to the finish line, stage IV. With advances in technology and medicine, and having been the first patient in our area to receive some of this new treatment, I plan to surpass those statistics. That's why I'm so passionate about raising funds for metastatic research and making a difference, leaving a legacy my girls will be proud of.
Please get your mammograms; less than 10% of breast cancer is hereditary, my sister and I are the first in our family.
Early detection offers you so many less invasive treatment options.
If something feels odd, it is. I found mine without looking and immediately made an appointment.
Living with metastatic cancer for me means staying present, because the future is just a dream.
Today is all each one of us has, so make EVERY DAY count! This is the real secret of life.
Whether you're walking, donating, or both, THANK YOU for supporting this cause and especially for supporting me!
Love,
Nicole
