Yesterday, I was introduced to NED! "No evidence of disease"!!!!
I saw Dr. F for my results of my latest round of scans and immediately burst into tears when they told us that the scans looked great and that I was still boring just like 6 months ago. :) But, what shocked me even more was the fact that the bone scan said there was no evidence of metastatic disease in my bones! Well, hello there NED!!!! Now, let me please explain that Dr. F doesn't put a whole lot of stock in those words. He said he doesn't get "overly excited or impressed" and that these scanning machines are not perfect. He says it's much like looking down from an airplane and trying to see a dandelion in a field. It's near impossible to spot just one but if there are a lot of them in a big patch, you can see them easily. So, he basically means I still could have little isolated cancer cells in my body but right now there isn't enough of them to be detected on the scans. I have always understood this and I am okay with that. I understand that sometimes people hang their hats on "NED" and then they have a scan a few months later that shows a change and they have a huge let down after feeling like they were as close to "cancer free" as possible. I truly understand that and I have always been happy to hear that I am "stable"...but for right now...for just a few days (or months)...I am going to be extremely thrilled that I am hanging out with NED! I know it doesn't mean I am cancer free or that I am cured. It means that right now my medicine continues to work and keep me in remission. It means that I can continue with my current treatment. It means that my bones, although still damaged, are healing. And most importantly, it means that I can continue having a really amazing quality of life. The few side effects I experience from my meds (hot flashes, fatigue, joint aches) are so minimal in the scheme of things and I don't let a day go by where I am not grateful for that. There are still little things we will keep an eye on. My platelets are on the low side and I have been having a lot of issues with bruising. If those continue to drop, I will have to have a bone marrow biopsy to see if my meds are impacting my body's platelet production. There are a few other minor issues I have been having but nothing big and nothing that Dr. F is really worried about. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU for all of your support, love and prayers! I couldn't be happier and couldn't be more grateful. I do believe in the power of prayer - I believe in God's ability to work miracles and I am not giving up the faith that maybe there is one in store for me. It has taken me this long to truly be able to even put those words out in the universe, but maybe - just maybe, I could live a long, healthy life in complete remission without this awful beast robbing me of my future. For now, I am believing that this can happen for me and I will continue to fall asleep each night with a smile on my face...dreaming of NED. ;) With a grateful and overjoyed heart, Meg xoxo
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It's hard to believe another year has passed. Another year of holidays spent with family, late night laughs with girlfriends, and curling up in bed with Mike and the pup. Another year of blessings. Another year filled with so much gratitude. Truly - I am grateful. But, as much as I want to feel excited for my birthday (which is tomorrow), and relieved to reach another cancerversary (on the 23rd), I am just struck with deep sadness right now. This has been a brutal few days for what we refer to as our group of "Mets Babes". My incredibly strong, brave and supportive friends that live with metastatic breast cancer just like I do. I met a great group of them on a forum through Kris Carr's online community. Coming into contact with these women online was the first time since my diagnosis that I felt like someone else truly "got it". I had finally found other women that knew what life with stage IV breast cancer was like. Sure they knew all about the physical effects, but more so, they knew about the emotional and psychological damage this disease can take on your spirit and heart. One of the first women that reached out to me was Jeanne'. She quickly became a shining light for me - a beacon of hope - a trusted friend - and an invaluable source of support and strength. She would check on me all the time and write me messages to keep my spirits up and remind me how strong I was. She let me confide in her all of my deepest feelings about my wish to become a mother and she shared in my sorrow since she herself had been trying to adopt when she was diagnosed. Although I never met her in person, Jeanne' had become a fast friend and one I cherished very much. I found out early Tuesday morning that Jeanne' had taken a sudden turn for the worse and is now facing her final days on this Earth. Her body is shutting down and failing her. I have been heartbroken ever since I heard the news. On top of that, two of my other dear friends have had progressions this week after being in remission for quite awhile. It has been a bad week for us, Mets Babes. I am not only devastated for Jeanne' and her family, but also sad for my friends that face a recurrence of their disease. And on top of all of that, I am terrified for myself. I am so scared because this all hits so close to home. How is it possible that my friend that appeared so vibrant and alive just a couple weeks ago, is now facing the end of her life? It terrifies me at how fast this can happen - how fast our lives can change. Am I looking into a crystal ball at what is going to happen to me? The reality is that I am one appointment away from not being "fine". From bad news- from new treatments - from more chemo - from crappy side effects - from a decreased quality of life. I don't live in fear - I really don't. But how can I not be completely rattled when this is happening to my friends? How can I not be angry, frustrated, heartbroken and devastated by this? It is not normal to be 30 years old and have so many friends die. So as I approach my birthday and the second anniversary of my diagnosis, I will try my best to remain hopeful, optimistic and grateful. But, I will have a heavy heart for dear Jeanne' and for all of my other mets babes that continue to travel this road along with me. "Aging is a privilege denied to many." I am truly grateful for another year - and I so desperately want many, many more! xoxo, Meg ps - Even as I type this I feel guilty about not being super upbeat and positive. But, I hope you - my friends and family, and even those that I haven't met but know me through my words - can understand that I need this blog to be a place where I can be true to me. A place where I can be true to my authentic thoughts and feelings - whether good or bad. I am grateful for this life and it is a beautiful one. But, it is a very difficult life too. And I need to give myself permission to share that here - in my little piece of cyberspace. Thank you for all of the love and understanding. Been so busy lately that I haven't picked up my camera as much as I would like. So here is my life in Instagram pics :) [I wanted to wait until it was completely official to let everyone know that we sold our house. It's something we have thought about for a long time - well before my diagnosis. As we look forward to the next chapter of our lives, I can't help but feel a deep sadness at this bittersweet goodbye. I wanted to share what I wrote a couple days ago while I tried to pack up our home....]
I sit here on your beautiful wood floor, in a seemingly empty room, yet one packed with endless memories. I can hear the echo of my own breathe against your bare walls. As I sit in the warm light of my favorite room, I am so overcome with emotions. I can't stop the tears from flowing. I have loved you for so long - you have been a part of our lives - our family - our story - our legacy. And this goodbye is so much harder than I ever imagined it would be. I remember the first time I drove by and saw you. I was so excited that my hardworking (then) boyfriend had saved up enough to purchase his first home. The first one of all his friends to have a place of his own. I was always scoping out the local neighborhoods and searching online for the perfect place for him - knowing one day it would become my home too. I remember driving by you one summer day and I'm sorry to say that I didn't give you much thought. You had been empty for over a year and looked like you could have used a a good dose of TLC. Little did I know that Mike would end up buying you a month or so later and that we would spend 7 1/2 wonderful years here together. We have put so much love and attention into you, our beautiful first home. We have taken such great pride in owning you and creating our life here. There are have been countless memories here that we will never forget. So many fun parties with friends, spending our first day as husband and wife here, and welcoming our sweet pup into our lives and into this home. But, we have experienced a lot of pain here as well. I will never forget the day we moved Mike's mom into the guest bedroom as she entered hospice care. We were so young, and yet we knew this is where she needed to be - with us, in this house - where we could care for her and be with her as we had to say our final good byes. As we picked up the pieces from her loss, it was in this home that we grieved while also trying to plan for a future - a future that included our beautiful wedding, many incredible travels, and of course, plans to expand our family and have children. We spent many nights up in our bedroom talking about which baby names we liked best, how we would decorate a nursery, and how we couldn't wait to bring a sweet baby into our lives - into this home. It was in this house that I cried over the first negative pregnancy test, and a few more negative tests following that one. It was here that Mike would hold me and tell me that it would all be okay and that we would eventually have the family we wanted so badly. And it was also here that on March 23, 2011 our world came crashing down. It was in this house, in our bed that we wept and feared for the road ahead as we learned of my cancer diagnosis. It was in this house that my family came over to rally around me that first day - to hold me in the silence and share my tears. It was here that Mike and I laid in bed the night before my spine biopsy to see if my cancer had spread, and I looked into his eyes and said, "I know this is going to be bad." As our lives turned into a tailspin of doctors appointments, rounds of chemo, and an emotional roller coaster, it was you, sweet house- it was you that become our refuge. My best girls redecorated our bedroom and made a peaceful oasis for me as I spent countless hours in bed. It was here that all of our loved ones gathered together for a "Love Fest" before chemo started. It was within your comforting and familiar walls that I recovered after each chemo treatment, every surgery, and each round of radiation. It was you I always wanted to get back to. To rest my tired and weary body, to console my broken heart and spirit, to spend the cherished moments alone with Mike and Wrig - who are my life. It was on your stairs that I passed out in the middle of the night after my first round of chemo. I scared Mike so badly. It was in your cozy basement family room where I lived in a recliner for nearly a month while I recovered from a grueling double mastectomy. It was here that I received hundreds of cards, deliveries and well wishes while I truly fought for my life. So, while our lives here have been filled with more blessings than I could ever count, we have also endured great pain and heartache here. Our lives are now forever changed and it's time for a fresh start. Time to let go of the past and what we thought could have been. To embrace each moment and look ahead to the future. A future filled with unknowns but a future nonetheless. I spent many tearful weeks and months within your embrace, wondering if there would ever be a time I could dream again - plan again - look forward to the future again. Would I have a future after being diagnosed with Stage IV cancer? So, moving on and saying goodbye to you is so much more than wanting a new house. It symbolizes that I have finally got there - finally made it to the point where I can look ahead and truly believe that I have a much more living to do. It may not be the life I thought I would have - it might be filled with more pain and heartache than I ever thought I would know - but it is also filled with more love and happiness than most people ever have the privilege to experience. As much as I used to look forward to a new "bigger and better" home, I now know that it's not about that. I am no longer seeking anything bigger and better - nothing could replace the life that Mike and I have built here in our quaint first home. We don't need "bigger and better" - we just need a new beginning. A peaceful place that hasn't witnessed the pain that you have witnessed here. A home that may not ever be filled with children, but it will be filled with the love of so many friends and family members. A home that will soon be helping us create new memories filled with just as much joy as we have had here. I will miss you so much, 910 Harvard. Although we are moving on, we have cherished the years we have spent with you and they will always remain some of the best days of our lives. We are taking a leap of faith and praying that we find what we are looking for - a home we can love just as much as we have loved you. A place to start our next chapter and begin a new adventure. Your new owner is lucky to have you and we hope he cherishes his days here just as much as we have. Thank you for all the memories. xoxo, Meghan I have been doing a lot of soul searching lately. A lot of deep thinking. Reflecting. Evaluating. Processing. I have had a difficult few weeks - for many reasons that I don't even have the energy to get into. I know that the feelings I have experienced lately are justified, and yet I feel that even as I type them I should immediately erase each word and be grateful for all of my blessings. I am discovering that I don't quite understand how to let myself have tough days and feel those heartbreaking emotions, and let myself cry and be sad for a bit, without feeling like I am ungrateful. If I am stressed out, upset or frustrated and try to process those emotions, I immediately feel like I need to just let it all go and stop complaining because I know how much worse everything could be. I remind myself that my scans came out good so how dare I worry or complain about anything. I found out today that I lost a friend from my support group. She was 43 with 2 kids and had metastatic breast cancer too. What could I possibly have to complain about? But I know this isn't healthy. I know that I am not only allowed to feel these emotions, but I know that it's important to do so. But why can't I just let myself do it? How do I balance processing the frustration and sadness I often feel about my life while also balancing it with my true sense of gratitude and joy. I feel like I am in a constant state of emotional turmoil. I've said it before, and I will say it again - the emotional and psychological aspect of living with this disease is far greater than any physical discomfort I have ever experienced. I don't know what I would do without my "inner circle" of close family & friends. You know who you are. The ones I can share everything with and I know you won't judge me - you won't try to tell me that everything is fine and try to make it all better. You listen and you love me and you offer guidance that is so appreciated. I have relied on you all even more lately and I can't thank you enough for your support. I mean it when I say I would be totally lost without you. Physically, I am doing pretty well. Tomorrow I will get my shots in the morning before I head into work. I am still having some issues with my reconstruction - despite having surgery again in November - but I saw Dr. M a week or so ago and he isn't too concerned, despite the unusual symptoms I am now experiencing. I am having some chest/arm pain but thankfully I work with some great PT's that are helping me with that. A perk of the job. :) I continue to battle constant hot flashes, back pain and difficulty sleeping - but I would take that all in a heartbeat for continued clean scans! In a nutshell - everything is great, but I know I need some help on how to process all of the emotions and thoughts that run through my head and heart every day. I plan on looking into that soon. Thank you for always keeping us in your prayers. Please add my friend Reem's family to them this week. May she rest in peace. xoxo, Meghan A message I enjoyed this week... Happy 6th birthday to my baby boy, Wrigley. Thank you for making my feet warmer, my days brighter, and my heart happier. My life is better because you are in it.
New favorite word #1.....STABLE! The scan results are in and everything looks good! Stable...no evidence of active disease...nothing new...continued healing of the affected spots throughout my spine. Can I get an "AMEN!".....Woohooooo!!!!!!!
Second favorite word..."Boring". That's what Dr. F called me today and I take that as the biggest compliment I have received in a long time. I have yearned to be "boring" - medically speaking, anyways. Although Dr. F doesn't get all excited and enthusiastic, he did express his satisfaction with these results and said we will just keep the course since it seems to be working well and keeping my disease dormant...and that's what we are hoping and praying for, for a long long time! No other real news to report - I will continue with my two injections into my abdomen every 4 weeks, follow up with Dr. F every 8 weeks and continue to be scanned every 6 months. I wish there were better words for me to use to truly convey my appreciation and gratitude to all of you for your love, support and prayers...but really there is nothing else I can say except for a HUUUUGGGEEEE, "THANK YOU!" Thank you so very much for everything. Truly. You have no idea how much comfort and hope it brings me to know so many people are thinking of us, praying for us, and supporting us. It really does make a huge impact on Mike and I, and I hope you all know how immensely grateful we are. What an incredible start to 2013! If these results are any indication of what this year has in store for us, I think it's going to be an amazing year. Happy New Year to all of you and I wish you all nothing but health and happiness in 2013! xoxo, Meg Dear Santa,
I hear you will be coming to town tonight...and maybe even stopping by on my rooftop. I have long understood that your anticipated visit is contingent upon my behavior this year. What's that you ask?....Was I good this year? Did I behave? Have I listened to my mother, done my chores, ate my veggies? Well, I can assure you that I have most definitely done the latter...I have surely ate well over my weight in kale, cucumbers, and spinach this year. Santa, I promise that I have listened to my momma (most of the time) and to my doctors (all of the time). I have taken my medications, cared for my radiated burned skin, and emptied my surgical drains. I have allowed my body to rest, but I've also pushed it at times when I wanted to feel like my old self again. This year I have tried to make a difference. I have volunteered my time. I have shared my story. I have spoke to thousands. I have attended conferences and meetings. I have tried to be a source of support for those newly diagnosed. I have returned to work, albeit on a (very) part time basis. I have started a small business that fuels my creative side. I have invested time, money, and energy into activities that feed my soul. I have traveled, visited friends, and tried to spend as much time as possible with those I love the most. But Santa, I have to come clean and tell you that I have not been perfect. I must admit, I have fallen off the wagon with my exercise routine. That has really been bothering me and will definitely be a priority for 2013. I have been unsuccessful at giving up my beloved Diet Coke and I'm fearful I may now be considered an "addict". And while we are on the subject of confessions, I will acknowledge to you that I am still a terribly inconsistent flosser. I have also been hard on myself this year, Santa. I have dealt with a lot of guilt, frustrations, and sadness. I have often felt lost while I try to understand how to live a life where I am not the PT that works the most hours and sees the most patients - where I am not a mother, nor will I be a "mother to be" -- I am a 30 year old woman that often feels worried sick about her husband and mother, should anything ever happen to me. I am a constant work in progress - learning how to ride these waves until the storm passes, and hoping for many days of sunshine until the next set of dark clouds start to roll in. Santa, although I am guilty of occasionally losing my patience, taking my husband for granted, or being sassy with my mom - I promise that I have tried my best to make it on your "good list" this year. I have tried to be positive and optimistic, open-minded and understanding, hopeful and grateful - each and every day. I have tried to be a good wife, daughter, sister and friend. I have tried to live each day to the fullest, to restrain myself from useless complaints, and to appreciate all of the blessings in my life and in doing so, take the focus away from the many hardships our family continues to face. So, if I may ask for just one thing this year, Santa...I am please asking (or more like begging) for a good report from my scans on January 3. I would please LOVE clean scans that show no new growth of this disease, so that I may continue to enjoy this beautiful life. That I may continue to live each day with the same quality of life that I experience now. That I can continue to strive to reach my dreams with Mike. So I can watch my friends children grow up, and so I can be here to take care of my parents one day instead of them taking care of me - that's just not the way it's supposed to work. Tomorrow morning I will wake up next to my best friend, and feel the weight of my pup at my feet, and I will smile like I do each morning. A smile of thanks for another day. As I make my way to the family room, I won't expect anything from you under the tree. I will hold out hope that the one and only gift I truly pray for will arrive next week in the form of a good report from my oncologist, Dr. F. Thank you for listening, Santa. Merry Christmas to you and to all of those that I love. xoxo, Meghan I'm having a tough time getting into the Christmas spirit this year. I don't know why or what that's about. I think I just feel tired. I keep waiting for the day that the fatigue is gone, but it just seems like I will never feel the way I once did. Maybe I just need to come to terms with that, huh? Everyone keeps reminding me that it's normal to feel this way and that my body has been through so much - and I know all of that - it's just frustrating at times. Dr. F says that for every round of chemo you have, you can expect 1-2 months of fatigue....so, 15 rounds of chemo x 2 months of fatigue/round = 30 months! 2 1/2 years of lingering fatigue - sheesh! I know things could be worse and I don't mean to complain, there are just times where feeling this way starts to bum me out. It has been very hard to come to the realization that I just can't do things like I could before. It has hard to realize that putting in just a 6 hour work day can leave me feeling totally drained. It makes me wonder, if we were somehow able to have children one day - would I truly be able to care for them the way a good parent should? It breaks my heart a little bit to think the answer to that question might be "no". When the fatigue really sets in, he seems to bring along it's good friend "Ms. Extra Emotional". I am just feeling a little bit more emotional and anxious than normal, but I am sure that also has something to do with the stress of the holidays and the fact that my scans are coming up next week. It seems like I am feeling more nervous about my scans this time, but I am sure I have felt like this before every other round of scans too. I feel a little scared that if they don't come out good, I will blame myself and beat myself up for it. I have felt so tired lately that I haven't been working out and I haven't been cooking and juicing as often as I usually do. I have still been eating pretty healthy, but we have definitely been indulging in some treats over here. I am well versed on how diet and exercise can affect my disease, and although I don't obsess over it, I have been beating myself up about it lately. I don't want to put blame on myself if my disease does end up progressing, but right now, I am worried I might feel that way. There seems to be some misconceptions out there about what life is like once you are diagnosed with cancer - and I admit, before I was in this position, I was guilty of believing many of them. Like you have maybe a rough year or two and then your treatment is over and life is just exactly how it was before. Story over. Happily ever after. Period. Well, even though I have been blessed with good scans and haven't required changes in my treatment plan, life just isn't ever the same. There are always hurdles (big and small) that no one can prepare you for. I am guilty of thinking my friend, Meredith (who also lives with cancer) must have always been doing so great because "she looks wonderful in her pictures on Facebook". Ugh. How many times do we hear, "but you look so great" even though we might not really feel that way. Yes, I am thankful that I don't look exhausted or look like I have a throbbing back ache but that doesn't mean that those things aren't happening. We just don't post pictures on the days were we might look and feel pretty rough. I guess that's why this transition has been so difficult for me. Although I knew this wasn't going to be one battle, but rather a very long and continuous war - I must have still thought that once the initial blast of chemo/surgery/radiation was over, that I would feel perfect again. I didn't expect to battle this much fatigue for so long. I thought I would be able to work more by now. I thought I would be able to clean my house, run errands, and cook dinner without my back throbbing by the end of the day. I thought I could go back to getting 7 hours of sleep and that I would wake up feeling rested - rather than experiencing burning eyes, body aches and exhaustion from the moment my alarm goes off. I am hard on myself. I admit it. But that's just who I am. I have always held myself to high standards and have been able to accomplish anything I want - and this is a tough pill to swallow to not have any control over how this fatigue continues to plague me. Does it completely limit me and diminish my quality of life - no, definitely not. I continue to be busy and fill up my social calendar like crazy because I refuse to just lay down and hibernate. But, it's frustrating nonetheless. I know I have said this many times, but I am truly BEYOND thankful for Mike. The bottom line is that I couldn't do this without him. When my back hurts, he massages it. When I am exhausted, he grocery shops, cleans the house, does the laundry, cooks dinner. When I am beating myself up emotionally, he reminds me to be gentle with my broken heart and spirit. He is everything to me. I also want to give a little extra thanks to a few of my amazing friends. You know who you are -- the ones that shoot me a quick text to see how things are going or to say they are praying for me, the ones that make the effort to make plans so we can spend time together, the ones that let me talk their ears off on the phone or when we get together - even if it's about sad things like this damn disease. I truly feel so blessed to have such amazing, inspiring, and thoughtful friends in my life. Please keep my family and I in your prayers this next week as I head in for my scans on Wednesday morning. It will no doubt be a bit stressful, but I pray that we are learning to navigate these waters with a little less anxiety and fear than we have in the past. I won't get my results until January 3rd. I could have tried to get them earlier before Dr. F goes on vacation, but I wanted to enjoy the holidays without the fear of bad news. So, please pray that we are too overcome with the holiday spirit and joy of being surrounded by family and friends to worry about these results. Thank you for your continued love and support. xoxo, Meghan Addendum 12/14/12 - After going back and reading this post, I just want to add that I do feel very good most of the time. And, I don't mean to complain. It just so happens that I usually feel the urge to blog when I am a little bit emotional. It always helps to release my feelings and emotions this way but I hate to sound like I am complaining so much. I am grateful that I feel as good as I do and that I have a great quality of life - despite the annoyance of the fatigue. Thank you for understanding and bearing with me as I try to relay the realities of what my life is really like, while also expressing my gratitude for the many blessings that I know I have. And because a post is always better with pictures....a quick glimpse into my recent happenings over the last couple of weeks, courtesy of my lovely iPhone.... I knew the fall would be busy, but boy is it giving me a good run for my money. We have had a lot going on over here at the Malley household but there are no complaints here. We are just busy living our hectic lives that we enjoyed before cancer barged in. The fall photography season continues to be booming and I am so grateful that within my first year of becoming an official business, I couldn't be busier! I apologize to my friends whom I haven't been able to spend as much time with lately, but starting this business is really a passion of mine and I am so grateful for the chance to do it -and to feel well enough to do it! A huge thank you to all of the clients that have trusted in me, while I continue to learn and grow. You can check out my most recent work here on Facebook or on my blog. I am also gearing up to add more hours at The Recovery Project, and I am really looking forward to that. I am so blessed to love my job as a physical therapist and to work at a place that is so completely supportive in every way. I was really worried about returning to work earlier this summer. I was worried if it would totally exhaust me - which it did in the beginning. Would it cause my back to hurt? Would I feel like my physical limitations hindered me as a therapist? Would I remember everything I worked so hard to learn for 7 1/2 years of college? ....The great news is that although I may need to brush up on some skills that I haven't used in awhile, it feels really good to be serving my patients again. I love interacting with my patients and co-workers (who are awesome, I might add!) and it feels even better to be using that good ole' left brain again. :) I am beyond grateful to be feeling well enough to be able to increase my hours again next month (once I am all healed up from surgery), and grateful to have employers that allow me to make this transition at my own pace. There always seems to be so much I want to catch you all up on but lately the thought of that alone, makes me feel tired which then deters me from updating the blog at all. I promise I will eventually get around to sharing some pretty big things that have happened recently, such as my dinner with Nancy Brinker and my trip to Chicago for the Metastatic Breast Cancer Network National Conference. Another wonderful event that recently took place was the 18th Annual Barbara Ann Karmanos Cancer Institute Heroes of Breast Cancer Awards. I have been treated at Karmanos ever since I was diagnosed and I have nothing but exceptional things to say about everyone I have worked with there. It is truly an incredible place and I am so thankful that I can receive the highest level of care so close to home. I was completely blown away a few months ago when I received a phone call notifying me that I was being honored with the Community Service Award at this years Heroes of Breast Cancer Awards. It was so unexpected and so meaningful to me on so many levels - but mostly because I have always said that although I would never wish this disease upon anyone, if I can at least turn it into something positive, then it's not for nothing. Then all the pain and heartache are at least worth it in some way to help a greater good. Although I never set out to be recognized in any way, I am extremely humbled that I was. Karmanos hosted a beautiful evening at the Max M. Fisher Music Center in Detroit on October 30 and I was able to invite my family to attend along with me. There were over 200 people in attendance (including my oncologist and the oncology social worker that I started our support group with) and it couldn't have been a nicer evening. There were ten awards given that evening to various people and organizations and I was so surprised to even be among them. It was a night filled with smiles and meeting new people, feeling hopeful about the incredible research that Dr. Lum is doing with metastatic breast cancer that earned him the Scientific Distinction Award, but also a night with moments of sorrow and tears as a strong and heartbroken mother accepted an award on her daughter's behalf after she passed away earlier this year from this disease. What touched me the most about the entire evening was an anonymous quote from a member of the support group I helped create at Karmanos. I was holding it together pretty well as they were introducing me but after that quote was read, I struggled to maintain my composure as I walked on the stage to give my acceptance speech. It was her words that meant the most because the women in my support group truly mean the world to me. I like to think that creating that group has helped, and will continue to help many women that travel this road, but truly it was a selfish endeavor as well - because every time I meet with them, I feel better. I feel more hopeful. I feel uplifted. I feel grateful, and happy, and blessed. And most importantly, I never feel alone. As I said in my speech that night, I am so humbled to have received this award, since it truly belongs to all of the young women in our group that have given so much back to me - and for them, I am eternally grateful. You can read more about all of the Heroes of Breast Cancer here. Surgery is in 11 days! I'm getting a little nervous but trusting that all will go well. Thanks for keeping me in your prayers. xoxo, Meg It's often quite overwhelming and daunting to think about how much can go on in the span of a couple weeks....how many emotions I go through...how many highs and lows there are...and how my the status of my health can change. The past few weeks have been nothing short of exhausting and overwhelming. There are times when I want to share with you all what has been going on but I don't even know where to start, and it makes me feel exhausted just thinking about trying to catch everyone up to speed. I apologize for that because I know you are all waiting for updates and want to know how things are going. Prior to my last post about the loss of my uncle, I was prepared to tell you about my trip to Vegas for my friend Nikki's wedding. It was great to see my old college roomies and have a few days of R & R - although I actually got a little extra time than I bargained for since I accidentally booked my flight home on the wrong day. :) So, I got a little extra fun in the sun and enjoyed not only the warm desert air and sunshine, but laughs with friends, good food, a great Cirque du Soleil show and even won a few bucks! I am grateful for feeling well enough to travel and spend time with friends! After I got home from Las Vegas, it was back to full blown busy mode with 2 or 3 photo sessions each week, an amazing acoustic Ben Harper concert in Ann Arbor with Mike, doctors appointments & my monthly injections, support group meetings, and a fun fall baking day with girlfriends. The past week or two so has been an especially difficult one for me. Of course, it all stems from the loss of my Uncle Kevin and all of the emotions that brings. Then last Wednesday, Mike and I were invited to an impromptu small dinner with Ambassador Nancy Brinker - the founder and CEO of the Susan G. Komen for the Cure organization. My local Komen affiliate has been wonderful about listening to my concerns regarding how isolated the metastatic breast cancer community often feels in the midst of all the Komen events and fundraisers. I will write a more in depth post on this another time but the meeting was my opportunity to voice my concerns and opinions to Ambassador Brinker herself - and that's exactly what I did. I would say that dinner went well but it was the start of another emotional few days for me involving a lot of talk about cancer, cancer, cancer. The following day, Mike and I left straight from work to be with my family in Grand Rapids as we prepared to lay my Uncle Kevin to rest. Thursday night and Friday were spent remembering what an amazing guy he was and what a great impact he had on so many people. As I said before, these things are even more difficult for me now that I am living with this disease. It makes me wonder - what songs will be at my service? Who will speak? Is this how my family will be talking about me? I am thankful that Mike lets me be free to talk about whatever I need to, at any time. So, as we left Grand Rapids and drove to Chicago, we talked a little bit about my funeral. No, I am not dying - and I don't plan on heading that way for a very long time. But the reality of this disease forces us to discuss these things sometimes. And contrary to what you may think, it actually makes me feel better to talk about it. It doesn't help when someone says, "don't talk about that" or "that's not going to happen". Let us talk about it because the thoughts go on in our minds anyways and if we are free to discuss it, it lifts some of that weight off of our shoulders. ("Our", as in those of us living with metastatic breast cancer and other incurable diseases.)
We arrived to Chicago on Friday night and I was looking forward to just relaxing with our good friends Beth & Ben - and that's just what we did. We were not only in Chicago to visit our friends, but we went so that I could attend the Metastatic Breast Cancer Network's Annual Conference. Although, it was great to meet up with some of my friends living with MBC, the conference was difficult for me emotionally. I think I will talk about it more in my next post, but let's just say I was hoping to feel encouraged, uplifted and empowered and instead, I left feeling emotionally exhausted, frustrated and very sad. First thing on Monday morning, I found myself back in my plastic surgeon's office. Haven't had the chance to tell you guys, but the swelling in my left breast returned a few weeks ago. I know Dr. M told me that if the swelling ever came back, surgery was inevitable. Well, after discussing the issue once again, asking more questions, and shedding a few tears - I left my appointment with surgery on the books, as well as a decreased sense of confidence that this will be the last of these problems. Of course, I trust Dr. M very much, but there is just no telling what will happen after he opens me back up. He will be removing the mesh tissue that we think is causing all of the problems. He will also remove the implant and replace it with a new one. Not only am I worried about the usual side effects from surgery - infection, pain, and the fatigue that it brings over me - but I am worried about what will happen once that mesh is removed. I obviously needed that mesh the first time around because my skin wasn't strong enough to support the implant on it's own. I am now praying that somehow I will be able to successfully support the implant without the mesh, because if I cannot, it means more complications and more surgeries down the road. I know that this is nothing major in the scheme of things and that things could be WAY worse. I get that -believe me, I do. But, for the first time last week, I finally hit a point where I just didn't want to try to find the silver lining. I didn't want to have a pity party, but I just wanted to be able to feel sad and discouraged and know that it was justified to feel that way for a little bit. I began to question many of my decisions. Did I do the right thing by having the left breast removed? Should I have just dealt with the mastectomy and foregone the reconstruction? Am I causing my body more harm than good in the long run by going through all of these surgeries and procedures? Once I let myself ask these questions, express these emotions, and work through my feelings, I felt better and could get on with my day. So, surgery is now scheduled for November 20th - if I told you a later date, that's because there was an earlier opening so they are getting me in a little sooner. Please pray that everything goes very well and that my body can sustain this reconstruction without the mesh, and without further surgeries and complications. Thanks for your constant love and prayers. xoxo, Meghan I had started to write a new post a few days ago and I guess I should have made time to finish it then. Because now I am in an entirely different place. I am angry. I am sad. I am devastated and heartbroken that this awful disease has taken the life of another one of my family members. I AM SO SICK OF CANCER! I want to scream!!!!!!!!!!
My sweet, kind and caring, Uncle Kevin died today after a long battle with cancer. Three different types of cancer, to be exact. He was truly an amazing guy. As soon as he found out I was diagnosed he called me to let me know I could do this - I could get through it just like he had. He would call every few weeks and just leave voicemails saying, "don't even worry about calling me back - I just want you to know I am thinking of you and I love you and Mike." He was amazing at acknowledging that although he was a cancer survivor himself, he didn't know exactly what I was going through. He wouldn't pretend that our situations were the same or say, "I know how you are feeling" like so many people do. He would just quietly listen and be there to offer support and encouragement. Because he lived on the other side of the state, and our family dynamics were often not great, I didn't get to see him a lot. But when it came down to it, I know he loved me. I know he cared about me and he was proud of me. And I know that he was worried about me, and that he was devastated that this God - awful disease had now found it's way into my body too...a curse which has been put upon our family for generations. I don't know what to do. I pulled into my driveway this afternoon and just sat there with the car turned off for about 10 minutes. I couldn't even move. I didn't know what to do, where to go, what to think. I still don't. I just want to close my eyes, go to sleep and wake up knowing this was all a terrible nightmare. I know my poor cousins and my aunt are just reeling right now, and my heart breaks for them. I am so tired of losing people and I can't help but be once again faced with my own mortality each and every time this happens. And as I try to type through tears of sadness, I can't help but think of how my story will end. Cancer has stolen my mother in law from us. It has stolen my grandmother and between Mike and I both, it has taken 7 of our aunts and uncles. I am tired of going to funerals. I have been to 7 funerals just since my diagnosis alone. I am tired of losing friends that I have met along my journey. I am tired of having friends lose their mother in law's, or their aunts, or their grandparents to cancer. I am tired of hearing about babies and little children being diagnosed. I am tired of my friends getting bad scans and learning that their disease has progressed, or that their treatment is no longer working for them. I AM SO SICK OF CANCER!!!!! I love you Uncle Kevin - may you finally rest in peace and be reunited with Grandma and Grandpa, Uncle Pat, Aunt Maureen, Uncle Shawn, Uncle Joseph, and Aunt Helen. I am so grateful we were able to see each other at Shannon's wedding in July, and I was able to tell you how much I loved you - knowing it would likely be the last time I saw you until we meet again in Heaven. I will forever remember your kind and gentle spirit, infectious laugh and warm smile. xoxo, Meghan "May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind always be at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face, The rain fall soft upon your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the palm of His hand." |
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