One of the tougher things about TNBC is that it is its own beast, as someone mentioned on this thread already. It can be a challenge to wrap up that fear that comes with it upon a diagnosis - but I imagine, in some ways, it is like any other cancer - the sheer word sending ripples of uncertainty through your very being. I am 3+ years out from my breast cancer surgery, and I read the TNBC posts time-to-time. There are times I'd like to offer something that might be helpful to someone, and other times, I'd just like to forget the experience ever happened to me. In this case, I read a recent post and feel the need to comment, in hopes that it might be helpful.

There are all sorts of stigmas, emotions, and descriptive words attached to chemotherapy. (sigh. Just thinking of that word causes my shoulders to rise and then fall on the exhale of my breath out) Though some may refer to chemotherapy treatments as "poison", it is life-saving to others. There is so much wrestling, of sorts, in the beginning of the diagnosis of cancer . . so many emotions, so much information, so much decision-making with the facts presented in front of those who are diagnosed. None of us would choose or get in line for chemo. If we could work our way around those drugs, I imagine we all would. But the fact remains, that at this point and time, some cancers are more effectively treated with chemotherapy drugs, TNBC being one of them. For a person who is slated to have chemo, who is taking chemo, or has taken chemo as part of their treatment plan, it can be hurtful to hear chemotherapy referred to as "poison". Whereas we are thrilled (genuinely) for others who do not need chemotherapy, we understand the struggle and suffering that can go with those drugs for others who have this treatment protocol.

So, I guess what I am offering today is that we might be sensitive to the words we choose . . . for no one likes to think of giving the okay to administer "poison" to his/her body, but rather, choosing a plan to live.

I'm grateful for the oncologists who spoke into my life at the time of my diagnosis. My ki value was 83%. That's a pretty wicked number . . . but because of such radically abnormal cells, the chemo drugs could more easily identify the invasive nature of something that wasn't supposed to be there, and the cancer cells died.

I hope this is, in some way, helpful to others as we speak to those with cancer, as we talk about our own cancers, or as we help educate others what it's like to struggle through this cancer journey. We want to champion, come along side of, encourage those who have this course placed in their path. And if we do that, we help give those people the courage to keep going. 🙂