FIRST COMES MARRIAGE, THEN COMES . . ?

I’m going to make a very ignorant statement right now. I thought only old people, genetically predisposed people, smokers, obese people, diabetic people, or alcoholics got cancer. I am none of those things and I was diagnosed with triple positive breast cancer at the age of 36-years- old. The jokes on me, eh?!

I never thought that lump resting between my left breast and my chest bone was a cancerous tumor. I had been working out at the gym hardcore at the time, (for what reason, I am not quite sure), so I thought it was a pulled muscle at best. I mean I was healthy as a horse! I ate my greens, took my vitamins, didn’t eat meat and worked out four times a week. But just 1 month later I was sitting in the doctor’s office with the results; I was healthy . . . except for the cancer.

Doctor: "Monique I wish I had better news, but it is cancer." Or maybe he said, “Monique the tumor is cancerous,” or maybe it was, “Monique too bad so sad, as healthy as you think you are, you got cancer smarty pants!”  I can’t really remember, but what echoed in my head was, IT’S CANCER. I felt my heart drop, or did it stop? I stopped breathing for sure and closed my eyes. Me: WTF?? Even today, almost 6 months later, I still can't believe it, I don’t feel like I have cancer. I always say, “I didn’t feel like I had cancer, until I had chemo.” (The chemo that saved my life I am sure), but I digress. Then I remember he moved me and my husband, Corey into a private room while he got my paper work together. As soon as I sat down I started to bawl uncontrollably. Corey was hugging me and I said, "WTF is he saying? He had to get it wrong, what about our plans, what about our BABY?! We had just gotten married 6 months prior and we said we would start trying to have a family that year, that month in fact. But a few weeks prior something inside me said, WAIT. I don't know what that was, God, the universe, my gut? I will never know. But I went to Corey and told him I think we should wait. I said, now didn't feel right and we could take the rest of the year to just enjoy being newlyweds. I didn’t want to rush to have kids, just because I was mid 30’s and we “should” hurry it up! Thank God, we did, or chemo (which needed to start ASAP), might have been out of the question and today we would be having a very different conversation. 

People ask, “What’s it like being diagnosed so young?” I don't know how to answer that. 36 is young yes, but I am sure no matter what age you are diagnosed it is F’d up either way. But for me, what was really impacted, (or so I thought), was my ability to start a family. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes cancer? That is not how the song goes! This diagnosis was like someone had shot me in both knee caps at the beginning of my race.

This was a real disruption to my and Corey future kin conversations:

Me: “Did you get the email I sent you?”

Corey: “The one with the little girl in the jumpsuit and sunglasses?”

Me: “Yes, she looks just like our daughter, no?”

Corey: “Ummmm not really.”

Me: “Yes, she does, she has my cheeks and your eyes!”

Corey: “How can you tell she is wearing sunglasses? LOL!”

Me: “She looks like the next child YouTube sensation!”

Corey: “YouTube?? How about we raise the next doctor or lawyer?”

Me: “Ugh . . . so boring!”  

Then after our first visit to the fertility specialist and she informed us that chemo causes birth defects and we can't start trying to conceive until 3 years post chemo . . .  if at all, I thought, F, WHAT’S THE POINT?! (I did freeze my eggs though just in case). It was like someone had stabbed me in the heart. After that I spent many months convincing myself I didn’t even want kids. I mean who wants a crying, poopy, suck your life savings for the next 21 years anyway? I DID!!!

Almost 6 months ago I was diagnosed and I thought it was the end of my world. I was going to sell everything and take me and Corey around the world on a last hooray. What I have learned over these many months is, doctors only know as much as they know, but they have no way of knowing what is going to happen with my cancer, my body, or my future. AND that includes whether we will be able to conceive. I have been very lucky up until this point. I responded well to chemo, YAY! Tumors are shrinking, YAY! I feel good and I am not laying in a depressed heap on the floor somewhere (Double YAY!). I get to keep my breast so far, lumpectomy surgery still healing from (YAY! But hurts like hell!), and 3 years from now we will have my 36-year-old eggs to try and conceive with if we need them. That child, YouTubing/doctor/lawyer is just waiting for us, I know it!

No matter what age you are diagnosed, cancer impacts your life, no matter what you have going on, it comes in and says, “Stop whatever you are doing, whatever you were thinking and however you were being and listen to me!” You are forever changed . . .  it changed me. So better that change comes sooner rather then later, no?

This post is part of Listen to HER2, a program hosted by Living Beyond Breast Cancer that highlights personal stories from people affected by HER2-positive breast cancer. Visit lbbc.org/ListentoHER2 for more stories about life with HER2-positive breast cancer.

Living Beyond Breast Cancer is a national nonprofit that provides educational resources and emotional support to people who have been impacted by breast cancer. Its goal is to provide information, community and support that you can trust, is easy for you to access and respectful of you and your situation. For more information, visit LBBC.ORG.

 

I lied about the Cake . . .

So, I lied . . . We'll sort of, I posted a celebratory cake on social a couple weeks ago, claiming I bought it to celebrate the doctor telling me my tumor had shrunk. The tumor shrinking was not the lie. It has shrunk almost by half since the last time she measured it. (Yes, this is a reason to celebrate!) So, after my appointment my good friend drove me to Pusatari's and followed me around as I drooled over every gourmet treat I could lay my eyes on. Then I saw that cake, you remember it? 6 layers of perfection with buttercream frosting, (with no artificial colors or preservatives of course). It looked like the kind of cake that when you bite into it your eyes will close out of sheer pleasure. I knew I wanted to dive into it face first. Could I justify buying a whole cake for no reason, especially one that was clearly marked “Birthday Cake?” My friend was like, "Why not? You deserve it, you and your hubby should be celebrating tonight, tumor shrinkage!" Me: "Yes you are right! I don't need a reason to buy a whole damn cake, I have cancer!” And yes, (in case you were all wondering), having cancer is literally the get out of jail free, do whatever you want without apologies card, so get over it.

When my hubby came home that afternoon I was so happy to greet him with that cake. First because I know birthday cake is his favorite and second because, now that he was home early I wouldn't have to feel bad cutting a huge chunk out of it by the time he came home that night. I was happy to give him the good news; the tumor was shrinking hooray! (I mean, it damn well better be, why else was I putting myself and my body through this emotional and physical hell??) So, in my mind I was having the cake to celebrate.

***SIDE NOTE: Eating has become a cruel joke. Chemo fucks with your taste buds so bad I never know what food is going to taste like. Sometimes it starts off tasting fine, then by the end of the meal the taste turns to garbage. Eating has become such a fucking chore that I would have done anything for food to taste like I remember. I really wanted to eat something, ANYTHING that gave me a moments pleasure.

But no matter how much of it I stuffed in my face, the feelings of joy quickly dissipated. The cake tasted damn delicious don't get it twisted, but I didn't feel like celebrating. Not even the smile on Corey's face, (which usually always works), shifted things for me, so I posted it to social so all of my loved ones who follow my journey could celebrate a win. Yay, Monique is getting better! I wanted that for them, and for me. I usually love reading all the comments, but it didn't work . . . I was sad and emotional and I didn't know why.

Then as I ran though that appointment in my head I realized that I didn't want to celebrate because this journey was still far from over. Yes, chemo is almost done (THANK GOD!!!), but new things were to come, (the things that I try to block out of my mind so I can function, like, surgery, recovery, radiation, hormone therapy - LET'S ALL SAY IT TOGETHER FUUUUUCK!)

While sitting on the Doctor’s exam table in my gown she went over the 2nd half of the chemo plan and side effects:

1. Still no hair (wishful thinking)
2. Mouth sores continue
3. Constipation
4. Indigestion continue (a.k.a. can't digest like 90%of anything?)
5. Fatigue will continue 
6. Food taste like sawdust
7. Blackening of the nails (Did I mention my fingernails are turning dark blue/black? Yes you can say it, WTF?)
8. THANK GOD SAY GOOD-BYE TO NAUSEA 
9. Aches and pains and soreness. . . I want to take a pause here- Can I just clarify aches/pains and soreness? What she should have said is you will feel like a 80 year old grandma, that was pushed down a flight of stairs and then rolled onto the street for some street kids to slap you with a stick.
10. Oh and let me know if there is any numbness in your fingers and toes, that could be serious . . .

Sooooo, yes chemo continues to be fucked up.

But all I could think about was, if the tumor is shrinking will I have to have surgery? So, I asked her, "If the tumor disappears will I still need to have surgery?

Her: "Yes"

Me:" Why?"

Her: "Because there could still be some cancer cells left behind."

Me: "Oh"

Her:" Monique, Chemo is not a cure, if we don't do surgery the tumor will grow back . . . " And there it was, the reason I couldn’t celebrate. That scared the fuck out of me! After going through all of this, the cancer could come back . . . It makes me scared to celebrate, to feel like there is a finished line, because I can celebrate the small wins but this will be something I mange in one way or another forever…. AND THAT no yummy cake could fix.

The silver lining? Her: "Monique, the good news is that you are responding to chemo, some people do not, the surgery ensures we get it all." 

I know I "should" be happier, but one thing I have learned is there is now way I “should” be, feel or act.  “Should” is bullshit. #stillhappychemoisalmostdone