Round 2 | Beating Cancer & Still Losing At Scrabble

May 25
4 min read

This update is a shorter one. Less fluff. More… “here’s what we’ve learned while trying not to get body slammed by chemotherapy.”

Round 2 has definitely brought its own set of challenges.

The symptoms are mostly managed and overall tolerable, which I am incredibly grateful for. But saying this is easy would be the understatement of my entire life.

I am learning how to manage symptoms quickly.

There were a few “mistakes” during Round 1 that I have no intention of repeating during Round 2.

I’ve become a full time professional patient at this point! They say healthcare professionals make the worst patients, and I am quickly realizing why this is true.

Current lineup includes:

Compression socks that have practically become a personality trait

Leg elevation whenever possible

A vibration plate and body-weight squats to keep circulation moving

Red light therapy for my scalp

Not drinking enough water… but also not drinking TOO much water ( there is such a thing, which feels rude)

A countertop ice machine so I can crunch ice like it’s my full time job

Letting people help me lift Max and wear him out when my body simply can’t. This is the hardest part for me.

The good news is that despite the intense chemotherapy regimen and the impressive amount of medications entering my body, my organs are doing great. My bloodwork looks exactly how my oncology team expects it to look for someone with metastatic breast cancer receiving aggressive treatment.

My tumors have not started shrinking much yet, but they are changing in texture and density, which are both positive signs. Progress doesn’t always look dramatic, especially with the type of tumors I have. The subtle changes tell us the treatment is doing exactly what it’s supposed to do.

The lesions in my sternum aren’t something we can monitor closely until additional imaging is done after chemotherapy, so there isn’t much of an update there. What I can tell you is that about 95% of my pain lives in my sternum. It is wild that I had zero symptoms whatsoever of lesions in my sternum until chemotherapy hit my system. Now it’s made its presence known aggressively.

The best way I can describe it is like a group of gremlins poured hydrogen peroxide into an open wound and then left it there for fun. Bastards.

But according to my oncologist, that’s actually very very encouraging. The chemotherapy appears to be reaching the sternum and creating a response. So while it may feel like my chest is hosting its own angry little protest, hopefully what’s actually happening is a very slow, miserable, suffocating death for every cancer cell trying to make itself at home in my bones.

I have to receive 4 rounds total of “The Red Devil”. Two down. Two to go!

As for me, I continue to feel like I have ants in my pants 24/7.

The steroids have elevated me to a level of energy and chaos that is equally exhausting. It is impossible to describe, and I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.

We’re also starting to have more serious conversations about surgery and reconstruction. There are a lot of decisions to make. Never in my life did I think I would hear the words, “You’re not a candidate for fat transfer,” but here we are.

I have zero shame in admitting that as a 31 year old woman, I want to feel confident in my body when all of this is over. If realistic implants are the path forward, then that’s the path I’ll take.

Another exciting update: my incredible oncologist, Dr. Khaddour, has referred me for molecular testing.

I am genuinely VERY excited about this. The more information we have about my cancer, the more targeted and personalized my treatment can become. Knowledge is power, and right now I want every possible tool in the toolbox. This will play a major role in preventing any cancer relapse in my future as well.

I truly could not be happier with the oncology team I’ve chosen. All three of my physicians are thoughtful, brilliant, compassionate women. The nurses and CNAs on the oncology unit have also been incredible. They bring so much peace into some really hard days, and thankfully they appreciate dark healthcare humor almost as much as I do after spending over a decade working in emergency medicine myself.

They’ve helped me feel like a person first and a patient second, and that means more than I can put into words.

And finally…

I remain fully convinced that I will beat Stage IV breast cancer long before I ever beat my mother at Scrabble.

Some battles are simply unwinnable.

The outpouring of kindness, generosity, and thoughtfulness continues to leave me completely speechless. Just when I think I’ve wrapped my head around it all, someone does something else that catches me completely off guard in the best way. This experience has reminded me that the world is filled with truly remarkable people, and somehow I have the privilege of being surrounded by so many of them. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. I will never be able to fully express how much it means to me.