1. < Breast Cancer

Struggling to cope with Stage IV diagnosis and what the future holds.

Posted by fourfoot12 @fourfoot12, Dec 15, 2021

I was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer in May of this year (2021). I went through aggressive chemo that resulted in a clean PET scan in October. I then had a lumpectomy in December. When the tissue from the surgery was analyzed, it showed that the breast tissue was still cancerous. That was shocking, and very hard to accept, after the PET, physical exam, and a mammogram did not detect any signs of active cancer. I went from being full of hope to feeling as though all the treatments have been for nothing. I am starting on hormone therapy this week to slow progression. I am really struggling with what the future holds for me and how to move forward in a productive way. Hoping there is a Stage IV patient out there that can offer some advice, or share their experience, to help me. Thank you. Mary

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jkh | @jkh | Apr 1, 2023
In reply to @mimster "Mary, I too have struggled with those thoughts. Over 20 years ago, at the age of..." + (show)
@mimster

Mary, I too have struggled with those thoughts.
Over 20 years ago, at the age of 44, I was diagnosed with stage 3 lobular breast cancer. I had noticed a dimple near my nipple. All scans- mammogram, ultrasound, and breast MRI, had showed nothing. I spoke with the radiologist regarding my question that "if it wasn't a tumor causing the dimple, what could it be?" She encouraged me to see a breast specialist.
She saved my life.
The specialist decided to do a biopsy. Lo and behold, there was cancer. .. lobular, stage 3 because of the size.
I had a double mastectomy, chemo, and radiation. Cancer was not found past 2 lymph nodes. I went on to take tamoxifen for 5 years and was declared cancer free.
In 2020, on my birthday, and full of optimism that we now were Covid vaccinated and looking forward to rejoining a normal life, I went to my orthepedist complaining of new pain in my hip, suspecting a new area where osteoarthritis was settling in.
He took an Xray, and returned with tearful eyes, telling me of spots on my pelvic bone.
He called my oncologist and off I went.
Sure enough, the lobular cancer had metastasized to my bones.
I was put on the regiment of Ibrance and Letrozole, after months of procedures trying to get a specimen to type it.
All that summer, I sat on my backporch, gazing wistfully at my beloved flower garden, (looking very sad from my neglect), full of fear, gloom, dread, and depression.
Then one day, out of the blue, I had this ephinany -
Why was I perseverating on my death, paralyzed by fear over the suffering that would occur before it?
I was not suffering in physical pain yet.
I was not dying yet.
And when that day did come, I would look back and regret that I wasted all those perfectly good days that had been afforded to me, by wallowing in grief of over what had yet to occur.
So I stood up, put on my gardening gloves, and returned to a state of purpose and productivity, busying myself in the place I love the most ...
My garden...
It felt so good.
And when I was done toiling for the day, I called each of my daughters and chatted. In the next few days, I took to calling and texting all of my loved ones, including my 2 sisters, my 12 grandchildren, and my closest of friends.
And I didn't mention cancer.
I returned to living my life, not as I had known it, because I couldn't deny that it had changed.
And I can't deny that my fear does arise, and whisper in my ear from time to time.
It is not the dying that I fear, but rather the physical suffering.
My go to silence-the-fear lurking in my brain is to remind myself that I could very well die first of a heart attack or in acar accident.
Bottom line is that death will come to us all.
But it is not here yet for me.
So in the meantime, I strive, I choose, to live each day as if cancer does not reside in my body.
I read once that a study was done, regarding regrets, with people who were dying. Most did not hold regret on the things that they had done in their life...
... but rather, they regretted those things that they DIDN'T do in their life.
And I don't want to find myself, at the end of my days, regretting that I wasted all of those perfectly good days that I did have, paralyzed with gloom and mourning over what was to come.
And none of us, whether we are healthy or not, ever know what is to come, anyway!
Today is my birthday, 2 years to the day that the scent of cancer had returned to my life. I am still here, on my backporch, gazing at my garden as it wakens from its winter sleep.
I am not that same fearful, full of dread, gloom and doom, woman who sat here 2 years ago.
I am still among the living. I choose to be productive in my day. I choose to live a life that has a purpose.
Coupled with loosing my father only months before my diagnosis, those cancer treatments over 20 years ago left me utterly fatigued and deep in depression. At follow-up appt. with my radiologist, I embarrassed myself by bursting into tears before either of us spoke. She took my chin gently in her hand and looked my in the eye. She said in her heavy accent, "This is what you do. Each day, you get up and get dressed. Then you choose one chore to do. That's it, only one." I have never forgot the wisdom contained in that woman's directive.
The key to fighting depression is productivity. This restores your sense of worth.
So, in the present, I forgive myself on those days, when I am so very fatigued, that my only productivity lies in getting out of bed, getting dressed, and commiting myself to accomplish only one little thing, whether it be play (a text or phone call) or a simple chore.
Mary, I hope that those strategies raise your spirits as they do mine.
There is life to be living - today. Fill it with purpose, productivity, and time spent with those who cherish you.
Perseverating on future gloom and doom only serves to distract you from this good day that you have right now, at hand.
You can never control what happens to you, but you can control the manner in which you choose to react to it. Choose to do the things that you can do right now, no matter the limitations.
Just continue to live your life as you would have before you received your diagnosis. The only thing that has really changed for me is that all of those "someday" things that I was going to do, or get, are things I am no longer putting off for "someday".
I took that trip back to Illinois, to share the place of my childhood with my husband. I took my bucketlist trip to Greece. I take quick trips to visit my kids instead of getting chores done at home. I cook all those complicated recipes that I had put on my Pintrist for the "someday " when I have time. In reverse, I don't stress about things being perfect on holidays, I focus instead on just enjoying the company of my loved ones. I buy ready-made food instead of laboring away in the kitchen and missing out on playing cards and games with my grandchildren.
I simply made a decision 2 years ago to continue to live my life, only changing things up to make each day more fulfilling and purposeful for myself.
The act of pondering on the reality of what cancer has in store for me is now the only thing relegated to my "someday" list.
In turn, I am currently focused on dusting off the previous items on that list and checking them off...
one by one.

Jump to this post

Thank you for sharing your beautiful, helpful words. Such wisdom.

REPLY
Lisa | @kods | Apr 1, 2023
In reply to @mimster "Mary, I too have struggled with those thoughts. Over 20 years ago, at the age of..." + (show)
@mimster

Mary, I too have struggled with those thoughts.
Over 20 years ago, at the age of 44, I was diagnosed with stage 3 lobular breast cancer. I had noticed a dimple near my nipple. All scans- mammogram, ultrasound, and breast MRI, had showed nothing. I spoke with the radiologist regarding my question that "if it wasn't a tumor causing the dimple, what could it be?" She encouraged me to see a breast specialist.
She saved my life.
The specialist decided to do a biopsy. Lo and behold, there was cancer. .. lobular, stage 3 because of the size.
I had a double mastectomy, chemo, and radiation. Cancer was not found past 2 lymph nodes. I went on to take tamoxifen for 5 years and was declared cancer free.
In 2020, on my birthday, and full of optimism that we now were Covid vaccinated and looking forward to rejoining a normal life, I went to my orthepedist complaining of new pain in my hip, suspecting a new area where osteoarthritis was settling in.
He took an Xray, and returned with tearful eyes, telling me of spots on my pelvic bone.
He called my oncologist and off I went.
Sure enough, the lobular cancer had metastasized to my bones.
I was put on the regiment of Ibrance and Letrozole, after months of procedures trying to get a specimen to type it.
All that summer, I sat on my backporch, gazing wistfully at my beloved flower garden, (looking very sad from my neglect), full of fear, gloom, dread, and depression.
Then one day, out of the blue, I had this ephinany -
Why was I perseverating on my death, paralyzed by fear over the suffering that would occur before it?
I was not suffering in physical pain yet.
I was not dying yet.
And when that day did come, I would look back and regret that I wasted all those perfectly good days that had been afforded to me, by wallowing in grief of over what had yet to occur.
So I stood up, put on my gardening gloves, and returned to a state of purpose and productivity, busying myself in the place I love the most ...
My garden...
It felt so good.
And when I was done toiling for the day, I called each of my daughters and chatted. In the next few days, I took to calling and texting all of my loved ones, including my 2 sisters, my 12 grandchildren, and my closest of friends.
And I didn't mention cancer.
I returned to living my life, not as I had known it, because I couldn't deny that it had changed.
And I can't deny that my fear does arise, and whisper in my ear from time to time.
It is not the dying that I fear, but rather the physical suffering.
My go to silence-the-fear lurking in my brain is to remind myself that I could very well die first of a heart attack or in acar accident.
Bottom line is that death will come to us all.
But it is not here yet for me.
So in the meantime, I strive, I choose, to live each day as if cancer does not reside in my body.
I read once that a study was done, regarding regrets, with people who were dying. Most did not hold regret on the things that they had done in their life...
... but rather, they regretted those things that they DIDN'T do in their life.
And I don't want to find myself, at the end of my days, regretting that I wasted all of those perfectly good days that I did have, paralyzed with gloom and mourning over what was to come.
And none of us, whether we are healthy or not, ever know what is to come, anyway!
Today is my birthday, 2 years to the day that the scent of cancer had returned to my life. I am still here, on my backporch, gazing at my garden as it wakens from its winter sleep.
I am not that same fearful, full of dread, gloom and doom, woman who sat here 2 years ago.
I am still among the living. I choose to be productive in my day. I choose to live a life that has a purpose.
Coupled with loosing my father only months before my diagnosis, those cancer treatments over 20 years ago left me utterly fatigued and deep in depression. At follow-up appt. with my radiologist, I embarrassed myself by bursting into tears before either of us spoke. She took my chin gently in her hand and looked my in the eye. She said in her heavy accent, "This is what you do. Each day, you get up and get dressed. Then you choose one chore to do. That's it, only one." I have never forgot the wisdom contained in that woman's directive.
The key to fighting depression is productivity. This restores your sense of worth.
So, in the present, I forgive myself on those days, when I am so very fatigued, that my only productivity lies in getting out of bed, getting dressed, and commiting myself to accomplish only one little thing, whether it be play (a text or phone call) or a simple chore.
Mary, I hope that those strategies raise your spirits as they do mine.
There is life to be living - today. Fill it with purpose, productivity, and time spent with those who cherish you.
Perseverating on future gloom and doom only serves to distract you from this good day that you have right now, at hand.
You can never control what happens to you, but you can control the manner in which you choose to react to it. Choose to do the things that you can do right now, no matter the limitations.
Just continue to live your life as you would have before you received your diagnosis. The only thing that has really changed for me is that all of those "someday" things that I was going to do, or get, are things I am no longer putting off for "someday".
I took that trip back to Illinois, to share the place of my childhood with my husband. I took my bucketlist trip to Greece. I take quick trips to visit my kids instead of getting chores done at home. I cook all those complicated recipes that I had put on my Pintrist for the "someday " when I have time. In reverse, I don't stress about things being perfect on holidays, I focus instead on just enjoying the company of my loved ones. I buy ready-made food instead of laboring away in the kitchen and missing out on playing cards and games with my grandchildren.
I simply made a decision 2 years ago to continue to live my life, only changing things up to make each day more fulfilling and purposeful for myself.
The act of pondering on the reality of what cancer has in store for me is now the only thing relegated to my "someday" list.
In turn, I am currently focused on dusting off the previous items on that list and checking them off...
one by one.

Jump to this post

Thank your sharing your story! It brought me to tears.

REPLY
jbp | @jbp | Apr 1, 2023
In reply to @mimster "Mary, I too have struggled with those thoughts. Over 20 years ago, at the age of..." + (show)
@mimster

Mary, I too have struggled with those thoughts.
Over 20 years ago, at the age of 44, I was diagnosed with stage 3 lobular breast cancer. I had noticed a dimple near my nipple. All scans- mammogram, ultrasound, and breast MRI, had showed nothing. I spoke with the radiologist regarding my question that "if it wasn't a tumor causing the dimple, what could it be?" She encouraged me to see a breast specialist.
She saved my life.
The specialist decided to do a biopsy. Lo and behold, there was cancer. .. lobular, stage 3 because of the size.
I had a double mastectomy, chemo, and radiation. Cancer was not found past 2 lymph nodes. I went on to take tamoxifen for 5 years and was declared cancer free.
In 2020, on my birthday, and full of optimism that we now were Covid vaccinated and looking forward to rejoining a normal life, I went to my orthepedist complaining of new pain in my hip, suspecting a new area where osteoarthritis was settling in.
He took an Xray, and returned with tearful eyes, telling me of spots on my pelvic bone.
He called my oncologist and off I went.
Sure enough, the lobular cancer had metastasized to my bones.
I was put on the regiment of Ibrance and Letrozole, after months of procedures trying to get a specimen to type it.
All that summer, I sat on my backporch, gazing wistfully at my beloved flower garden, (looking very sad from my neglect), full of fear, gloom, dread, and depression.
Then one day, out of the blue, I had this ephinany -
Why was I perseverating on my death, paralyzed by fear over the suffering that would occur before it?
I was not suffering in physical pain yet.
I was not dying yet.
And when that day did come, I would look back and regret that I wasted all those perfectly good days that had been afforded to me, by wallowing in grief of over what had yet to occur.
So I stood up, put on my gardening gloves, and returned to a state of purpose and productivity, busying myself in the place I love the most ...
My garden...
It felt so good.
And when I was done toiling for the day, I called each of my daughters and chatted. In the next few days, I took to calling and texting all of my loved ones, including my 2 sisters, my 12 grandchildren, and my closest of friends.
And I didn't mention cancer.
I returned to living my life, not as I had known it, because I couldn't deny that it had changed.
And I can't deny that my fear does arise, and whisper in my ear from time to time.
It is not the dying that I fear, but rather the physical suffering.
My go to silence-the-fear lurking in my brain is to remind myself that I could very well die first of a heart attack or in acar accident.
Bottom line is that death will come to us all.
But it is not here yet for me.
So in the meantime, I strive, I choose, to live each day as if cancer does not reside in my body.
I read once that a study was done, regarding regrets, with people who were dying. Most did not hold regret on the things that they had done in their life...
... but rather, they regretted those things that they DIDN'T do in their life.
And I don't want to find myself, at the end of my days, regretting that I wasted all of those perfectly good days that I did have, paralyzed with gloom and mourning over what was to come.
And none of us, whether we are healthy or not, ever know what is to come, anyway!
Today is my birthday, 2 years to the day that the scent of cancer had returned to my life. I am still here, on my backporch, gazing at my garden as it wakens from its winter sleep.
I am not that same fearful, full of dread, gloom and doom, woman who sat here 2 years ago.
I am still among the living. I choose to be productive in my day. I choose to live a life that has a purpose.
Coupled with loosing my father only months before my diagnosis, those cancer treatments over 20 years ago left me utterly fatigued and deep in depression. At follow-up appt. with my radiologist, I embarrassed myself by bursting into tears before either of us spoke. She took my chin gently in her hand and looked my in the eye. She said in her heavy accent, "This is what you do. Each day, you get up and get dressed. Then you choose one chore to do. That's it, only one." I have never forgot the wisdom contained in that woman's directive.
The key to fighting depression is productivity. This restores your sense of worth.
So, in the present, I forgive myself on those days, when I am so very fatigued, that my only productivity lies in getting out of bed, getting dressed, and commiting myself to accomplish only one little thing, whether it be play (a text or phone call) or a simple chore.
Mary, I hope that those strategies raise your spirits as they do mine.
There is life to be living - today. Fill it with purpose, productivity, and time spent with those who cherish you.
Perseverating on future gloom and doom only serves to distract you from this good day that you have right now, at hand.
You can never control what happens to you, but you can control the manner in which you choose to react to it. Choose to do the things that you can do right now, no matter the limitations.
Just continue to live your life as you would have before you received your diagnosis. The only thing that has really changed for me is that all of those "someday" things that I was going to do, or get, are things I am no longer putting off for "someday".
I took that trip back to Illinois, to share the place of my childhood with my husband. I took my bucketlist trip to Greece. I take quick trips to visit my kids instead of getting chores done at home. I cook all those complicated recipes that I had put on my Pintrist for the "someday " when I have time. In reverse, I don't stress about things being perfect on holidays, I focus instead on just enjoying the company of my loved ones. I buy ready-made food instead of laboring away in the kitchen and missing out on playing cards and games with my grandchildren.
I simply made a decision 2 years ago to continue to live my life, only changing things up to make each day more fulfilling and purposeful for myself.
The act of pondering on the reality of what cancer has in store for me is now the only thing relegated to my "someday" list.
In turn, I am currently focused on dusting off the previous items on that list and checking them off...
one by one.

Jump to this post

Thanks for your great advice. I was diagnosed with recurrent stage 4 MBC 1 year ago, 12 years after my original diagnosis and treatment. I am really trying to live in the moment, and find keeping busy with family, friends and doing the things I always said I would do in retirement is helping me cope. It's hard sometimes....when scans don't go your way and plans have to change. I love your advice about not regretting what you have done so my plan is to keep doing those things I can do now. Thanks again for your thoughts and good luck with your journey.

REPLY
krany | @krany | Apr 1, 2023
In reply to @mimster "Mary, I too have struggled with those thoughts. Over 20 years ago, at the age of..." + (show)
@mimster

Mary, I too have struggled with those thoughts.
Over 20 years ago, at the age of 44, I was diagnosed with stage 3 lobular breast cancer. I had noticed a dimple near my nipple. All scans- mammogram, ultrasound, and breast MRI, had showed nothing. I spoke with the radiologist regarding my question that "if it wasn't a tumor causing the dimple, what could it be?" She encouraged me to see a breast specialist.
She saved my life.
The specialist decided to do a biopsy. Lo and behold, there was cancer. .. lobular, stage 3 because of the size.
I had a double mastectomy, chemo, and radiation. Cancer was not found past 2 lymph nodes. I went on to take tamoxifen for 5 years and was declared cancer free.
In 2020, on my birthday, and full of optimism that we now were Covid vaccinated and looking forward to rejoining a normal life, I went to my orthepedist complaining of new pain in my hip, suspecting a new area where osteoarthritis was settling in.
He took an Xray, and returned with tearful eyes, telling me of spots on my pelvic bone.
He called my oncologist and off I went.
Sure enough, the lobular cancer had metastasized to my bones.
I was put on the regiment of Ibrance and Letrozole, after months of procedures trying to get a specimen to type it.
All that summer, I sat on my backporch, gazing wistfully at my beloved flower garden, (looking very sad from my neglect), full of fear, gloom, dread, and depression.
Then one day, out of the blue, I had this ephinany -
Why was I perseverating on my death, paralyzed by fear over the suffering that would occur before it?
I was not suffering in physical pain yet.
I was not dying yet.
And when that day did come, I would look back and regret that I wasted all those perfectly good days that had been afforded to me, by wallowing in grief of over what had yet to occur.
So I stood up, put on my gardening gloves, and returned to a state of purpose and productivity, busying myself in the place I love the most ...
My garden...
It felt so good.
And when I was done toiling for the day, I called each of my daughters and chatted. In the next few days, I took to calling and texting all of my loved ones, including my 2 sisters, my 12 grandchildren, and my closest of friends.
And I didn't mention cancer.
I returned to living my life, not as I had known it, because I couldn't deny that it had changed.
And I can't deny that my fear does arise, and whisper in my ear from time to time.
It is not the dying that I fear, but rather the physical suffering.
My go to silence-the-fear lurking in my brain is to remind myself that I could very well die first of a heart attack or in acar accident.
Bottom line is that death will come to us all.
But it is not here yet for me.
So in the meantime, I strive, I choose, to live each day as if cancer does not reside in my body.
I read once that a study was done, regarding regrets, with people who were dying. Most did not hold regret on the things that they had done in their life...
... but rather, they regretted those things that they DIDN'T do in their life.
And I don't want to find myself, at the end of my days, regretting that I wasted all of those perfectly good days that I did have, paralyzed with gloom and mourning over what was to come.
And none of us, whether we are healthy or not, ever know what is to come, anyway!
Today is my birthday, 2 years to the day that the scent of cancer had returned to my life. I am still here, on my backporch, gazing at my garden as it wakens from its winter sleep.
I am not that same fearful, full of dread, gloom and doom, woman who sat here 2 years ago.
I am still among the living. I choose to be productive in my day. I choose to live a life that has a purpose.
Coupled with loosing my father only months before my diagnosis, those cancer treatments over 20 years ago left me utterly fatigued and deep in depression. At follow-up appt. with my radiologist, I embarrassed myself by bursting into tears before either of us spoke. She took my chin gently in her hand and looked my in the eye. She said in her heavy accent, "This is what you do. Each day, you get up and get dressed. Then you choose one chore to do. That's it, only one." I have never forgot the wisdom contained in that woman's directive.
The key to fighting depression is productivity. This restores your sense of worth.
So, in the present, I forgive myself on those days, when I am so very fatigued, that my only productivity lies in getting out of bed, getting dressed, and commiting myself to accomplish only one little thing, whether it be play (a text or phone call) or a simple chore.
Mary, I hope that those strategies raise your spirits as they do mine.
There is life to be living - today. Fill it with purpose, productivity, and time spent with those who cherish you.
Perseverating on future gloom and doom only serves to distract you from this good day that you have right now, at hand.
You can never control what happens to you, but you can control the manner in which you choose to react to it. Choose to do the things that you can do right now, no matter the limitations.
Just continue to live your life as you would have before you received your diagnosis. The only thing that has really changed for me is that all of those "someday" things that I was going to do, or get, are things I am no longer putting off for "someday".
I took that trip back to Illinois, to share the place of my childhood with my husband. I took my bucketlist trip to Greece. I take quick trips to visit my kids instead of getting chores done at home. I cook all those complicated recipes that I had put on my Pintrist for the "someday " when I have time. In reverse, I don't stress about things being perfect on holidays, I focus instead on just enjoying the company of my loved ones. I buy ready-made food instead of laboring away in the kitchen and missing out on playing cards and games with my grandchildren.
I simply made a decision 2 years ago to continue to live my life, only changing things up to make each day more fulfilling and purposeful for myself.
The act of pondering on the reality of what cancer has in store for me is now the only thing relegated to my "someday" list.
In turn, I am currently focused on dusting off the previous items on that list and checking them off...
one by one.

Jump to this post

@mimster Your words brought me to tears. Thanks for sharing your story. I shall always remember your wisdom and courage on my own journey. All the best!!

REPLY
gina5009 | @gina5009 | Apr 1, 2023
In reply to @mimster "Mary, I too have struggled with those thoughts. Over 20 years ago, at the age of..." + (show)
@mimster

Mary, I too have struggled with those thoughts.
Over 20 years ago, at the age of 44, I was diagnosed with stage 3 lobular breast cancer. I had noticed a dimple near my nipple. All scans- mammogram, ultrasound, and breast MRI, had showed nothing. I spoke with the radiologist regarding my question that "if it wasn't a tumor causing the dimple, what could it be?" She encouraged me to see a breast specialist.
She saved my life.
The specialist decided to do a biopsy. Lo and behold, there was cancer. .. lobular, stage 3 because of the size.
I had a double mastectomy, chemo, and radiation. Cancer was not found past 2 lymph nodes. I went on to take tamoxifen for 5 years and was declared cancer free.
In 2020, on my birthday, and full of optimism that we now were Covid vaccinated and looking forward to rejoining a normal life, I went to my orthepedist complaining of new pain in my hip, suspecting a new area where osteoarthritis was settling in.
He took an Xray, and returned with tearful eyes, telling me of spots on my pelvic bone.
He called my oncologist and off I went.
Sure enough, the lobular cancer had metastasized to my bones.
I was put on the regiment of Ibrance and Letrozole, after months of procedures trying to get a specimen to type it.
All that summer, I sat on my backporch, gazing wistfully at my beloved flower garden, (looking very sad from my neglect), full of fear, gloom, dread, and depression.
Then one day, out of the blue, I had this ephinany -
Why was I perseverating on my death, paralyzed by fear over the suffering that would occur before it?
I was not suffering in physical pain yet.
I was not dying yet.
And when that day did come, I would look back and regret that I wasted all those perfectly good days that had been afforded to me, by wallowing in grief of over what had yet to occur.
So I stood up, put on my gardening gloves, and returned to a state of purpose and productivity, busying myself in the place I love the most ...
My garden...
It felt so good.
And when I was done toiling for the day, I called each of my daughters and chatted. In the next few days, I took to calling and texting all of my loved ones, including my 2 sisters, my 12 grandchildren, and my closest of friends.
And I didn't mention cancer.
I returned to living my life, not as I had known it, because I couldn't deny that it had changed.
And I can't deny that my fear does arise, and whisper in my ear from time to time.
It is not the dying that I fear, but rather the physical suffering.
My go to silence-the-fear lurking in my brain is to remind myself that I could very well die first of a heart attack or in acar accident.
Bottom line is that death will come to us all.
But it is not here yet for me.
So in the meantime, I strive, I choose, to live each day as if cancer does not reside in my body.
I read once that a study was done, regarding regrets, with people who were dying. Most did not hold regret on the things that they had done in their life...
... but rather, they regretted those things that they DIDN'T do in their life.
And I don't want to find myself, at the end of my days, regretting that I wasted all of those perfectly good days that I did have, paralyzed with gloom and mourning over what was to come.
And none of us, whether we are healthy or not, ever know what is to come, anyway!
Today is my birthday, 2 years to the day that the scent of cancer had returned to my life. I am still here, on my backporch, gazing at my garden as it wakens from its winter sleep.
I am not that same fearful, full of dread, gloom and doom, woman who sat here 2 years ago.
I am still among the living. I choose to be productive in my day. I choose to live a life that has a purpose.
Coupled with loosing my father only months before my diagnosis, those cancer treatments over 20 years ago left me utterly fatigued and deep in depression. At follow-up appt. with my radiologist, I embarrassed myself by bursting into tears before either of us spoke. She took my chin gently in her hand and looked my in the eye. She said in her heavy accent, "This is what you do. Each day, you get up and get dressed. Then you choose one chore to do. That's it, only one." I have never forgot the wisdom contained in that woman's directive.
The key to fighting depression is productivity. This restores your sense of worth.
So, in the present, I forgive myself on those days, when I am so very fatigued, that my only productivity lies in getting out of bed, getting dressed, and commiting myself to accomplish only one little thing, whether it be play (a text or phone call) or a simple chore.
Mary, I hope that those strategies raise your spirits as they do mine.
There is life to be living - today. Fill it with purpose, productivity, and time spent with those who cherish you.
Perseverating on future gloom and doom only serves to distract you from this good day that you have right now, at hand.
You can never control what happens to you, but you can control the manner in which you choose to react to it. Choose to do the things that you can do right now, no matter the limitations.
Just continue to live your life as you would have before you received your diagnosis. The only thing that has really changed for me is that all of those "someday" things that I was going to do, or get, are things I am no longer putting off for "someday".
I took that trip back to Illinois, to share the place of my childhood with my husband. I took my bucketlist trip to Greece. I take quick trips to visit my kids instead of getting chores done at home. I cook all those complicated recipes that I had put on my Pintrist for the "someday " when I have time. In reverse, I don't stress about things being perfect on holidays, I focus instead on just enjoying the company of my loved ones. I buy ready-made food instead of laboring away in the kitchen and missing out on playing cards and games with my grandchildren.
I simply made a decision 2 years ago to continue to live my life, only changing things up to make each day more fulfilling and purposeful for myself.
The act of pondering on the reality of what cancer has in store for me is now the only thing relegated to my "someday" list.
In turn, I am currently focused on dusting off the previous items on that list and checking them off...
one by one.

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I love your letter. It says all the things I believe. I have one statement different than you, I BELIEVE GOD DECIDES HOW LONG I WILL BE HERE. Doctors are his helpmates, but I think God keeps throwing me back and saying I am not done with you yet. I am 92. I had my breast cancer when I was 36, and no Chemo, Radiation or follow-up medication. Just a radical mastectomy on the left and a simple mastectomy on the right two years later. They also took 14 lymph glands. All that was 52 years ago. For me, cancer made me aware how very precious life really is, so it is even more important to enjoy and treasure every day you are given. Thank you for your lovely encouraging letter.
Gina5009

REPLY
kimlockwood | @kimlockwood | Apr 1, 2023
In reply to @mimster "Mary, I too have struggled with those thoughts. Over 20 years ago, at the age of..." + (show)
@mimster

Mary, I too have struggled with those thoughts.
Over 20 years ago, at the age of 44, I was diagnosed with stage 3 lobular breast cancer. I had noticed a dimple near my nipple. All scans- mammogram, ultrasound, and breast MRI, had showed nothing. I spoke with the radiologist regarding my question that "if it wasn't a tumor causing the dimple, what could it be?" She encouraged me to see a breast specialist.
She saved my life.
The specialist decided to do a biopsy. Lo and behold, there was cancer. .. lobular, stage 3 because of the size.
I had a double mastectomy, chemo, and radiation. Cancer was not found past 2 lymph nodes. I went on to take tamoxifen for 5 years and was declared cancer free.
In 2020, on my birthday, and full of optimism that we now were Covid vaccinated and looking forward to rejoining a normal life, I went to my orthepedist complaining of new pain in my hip, suspecting a new area where osteoarthritis was settling in.
He took an Xray, and returned with tearful eyes, telling me of spots on my pelvic bone.
He called my oncologist and off I went.
Sure enough, the lobular cancer had metastasized to my bones.
I was put on the regiment of Ibrance and Letrozole, after months of procedures trying to get a specimen to type it.
All that summer, I sat on my backporch, gazing wistfully at my beloved flower garden, (looking very sad from my neglect), full of fear, gloom, dread, and depression.
Then one day, out of the blue, I had this ephinany -
Why was I perseverating on my death, paralyzed by fear over the suffering that would occur before it?
I was not suffering in physical pain yet.
I was not dying yet.
And when that day did come, I would look back and regret that I wasted all those perfectly good days that had been afforded to me, by wallowing in grief of over what had yet to occur.
So I stood up, put on my gardening gloves, and returned to a state of purpose and productivity, busying myself in the place I love the most ...
My garden...
It felt so good.
And when I was done toiling for the day, I called each of my daughters and chatted. In the next few days, I took to calling and texting all of my loved ones, including my 2 sisters, my 12 grandchildren, and my closest of friends.
And I didn't mention cancer.
I returned to living my life, not as I had known it, because I couldn't deny that it had changed.
And I can't deny that my fear does arise, and whisper in my ear from time to time.
It is not the dying that I fear, but rather the physical suffering.
My go to silence-the-fear lurking in my brain is to remind myself that I could very well die first of a heart attack or in acar accident.
Bottom line is that death will come to us all.
But it is not here yet for me.
So in the meantime, I strive, I choose, to live each day as if cancer does not reside in my body.
I read once that a study was done, regarding regrets, with people who were dying. Most did not hold regret on the things that they had done in their life...
... but rather, they regretted those things that they DIDN'T do in their life.
And I don't want to find myself, at the end of my days, regretting that I wasted all of those perfectly good days that I did have, paralyzed with gloom and mourning over what was to come.
And none of us, whether we are healthy or not, ever know what is to come, anyway!
Today is my birthday, 2 years to the day that the scent of cancer had returned to my life. I am still here, on my backporch, gazing at my garden as it wakens from its winter sleep.
I am not that same fearful, full of dread, gloom and doom, woman who sat here 2 years ago.
I am still among the living. I choose to be productive in my day. I choose to live a life that has a purpose.
Coupled with loosing my father only months before my diagnosis, those cancer treatments over 20 years ago left me utterly fatigued and deep in depression. At follow-up appt. with my radiologist, I embarrassed myself by bursting into tears before either of us spoke. She took my chin gently in her hand and looked my in the eye. She said in her heavy accent, "This is what you do. Each day, you get up and get dressed. Then you choose one chore to do. That's it, only one." I have never forgot the wisdom contained in that woman's directive.
The key to fighting depression is productivity. This restores your sense of worth.
So, in the present, I forgive myself on those days, when I am so very fatigued, that my only productivity lies in getting out of bed, getting dressed, and commiting myself to accomplish only one little thing, whether it be play (a text or phone call) or a simple chore.
Mary, I hope that those strategies raise your spirits as they do mine.
There is life to be living - today. Fill it with purpose, productivity, and time spent with those who cherish you.
Perseverating on future gloom and doom only serves to distract you from this good day that you have right now, at hand.
You can never control what happens to you, but you can control the manner in which you choose to react to it. Choose to do the things that you can do right now, no matter the limitations.
Just continue to live your life as you would have before you received your diagnosis. The only thing that has really changed for me is that all of those "someday" things that I was going to do, or get, are things I am no longer putting off for "someday".
I took that trip back to Illinois, to share the place of my childhood with my husband. I took my bucketlist trip to Greece. I take quick trips to visit my kids instead of getting chores done at home. I cook all those complicated recipes that I had put on my Pintrist for the "someday " when I have time. In reverse, I don't stress about things being perfect on holidays, I focus instead on just enjoying the company of my loved ones. I buy ready-made food instead of laboring away in the kitchen and missing out on playing cards and games with my grandchildren.
I simply made a decision 2 years ago to continue to live my life, only changing things up to make each day more fulfilling and purposeful for myself.
The act of pondering on the reality of what cancer has in store for me is now the only thing relegated to my "someday" list.
In turn, I am currently focused on dusting off the previous items on that list and checking them off...
one by one.

Jump to this post

Wow! You an inspiration! I was diagnosed with mbc that went to my spine and pelvis this past November. At first I really struggled, but then I realized I was not going to let cancer define me, I will live each day to the fullest. Spend time with family and friends. Be the best I can be while I'm still blessed to be here. You are a blessing!

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