PET Scan | Diagnosis Upgrade | Metastatic IV

Apr 30
3 min read

Updated: May 21

Friday, April 24, I went in for my PET scan which is pretty routine, but really important. Going into it, we felt hopeful that it hadn’t spread anywhere else. I hadn’t had any symptoms that made us think otherwise; no major pain or anything beyond the normal exhaustion of working in healthcare and chasing a two-year-old all day.

They injected me with contrast for the PET scan that was so strong I had to stay away from kids and pregnant women for 8+ hours because I was technically radioactive. Apparently that’s a real thing… not just an Imagine Dragons song.

The technician had me lie on my back with my arms stretched above my head on this tiny stretcher. I’m only 5’4” and 125 pounds, and I barely fit on that thing. I laid there taking deep breaths, trying to go to my happy place as the machine slowly pulled my entire body into a round tube for what felt like forever.

I was definitely nervous about waiting for the scan to be read, but I tried to push it to the back of my mind while we waited.

We wouldn’t get the results until Tuesday, April 28, when I saw my oncologist again.

As a mom, I can’t fully put into words what it must feel like for my mom to watch me go through this. I catch myself thinking all the time how grateful I am that this is happening to me and not Max. I know she would take my place in a heartbeat if she could. While we waited for those results, her mom instincts were on high alert. And every day, I kept telling her I really believed it was going to be clear.

Tuesday came, and it was a long day with back-to-back appointments. My mom was right there with me the whole time, because that’s just what moms do.

There was definitely anxiety in the room, but we also knew this was the moment we’d get our answers. When the doctor pulled up the PET scan, she showed us that there was a spot on my sternum where the cancer had spread.

That part caught us off guard. And just like that, my diagnosis went from stage three to stage four metastatic breast cancer.

It was a lot to take in. It makes things more serious, more complicated; but it doesn’t change the plan to fight. Because of my age and overall health, she reassured me that we’re still moving forward with aggressive treatment. She truly believes this gives me the best chance to beat it.

My mom later told me she had a feeling the scan wouldn’t be clear… she just knew.

The doctor handed us a box of tissues, and the tears came flowing again. It feels like we’ve been going through these waves of grief over and over:

First the word cancer.

Then invasive ductal carcinoma with lymph node involvement.

And now stage four, with spread to my sternum.

Each time, we’ve had to stop, process it, and somehow move forward again.

But even now, I still feel strong. I still feel hopeful. I’m not ignoring how serious this is, but I’m also not letting it take that from me.

After we pulled ourselves together, I told my mom all I wanted to do was go home and hold my baby. Through tears, she said, “Me too.”

Being a mom makes all of this hit so much deeper.

Next, the doctor took us into the infusion room so I could see where treatment will start in just a few days. I sat down in one of the recliners, and the sweetest oncology nurse came in and introduced herself. She gave me my first Zoladex injection.

Zoladex is meant to help protect my ovaries, but there are no guarantees, but it’s worth trying.