aLive @ Stage 4!

This is the sixth Thanksgiving since my metastatic breast cancer diagnosis.  The median life span of a metastatic breast cancer patient is approximately three years.  I am ever so grateful to be here still, and I am well aware of how incredibly lucky I am to have made it this long. Since my diagnosis, not only have I gone through chemo, surgery, and IV treatment every three weeks, I have visited the local emergency room as a patient quite a few times.  I have endured pain, nausea, and a myriad of other side effects.  Our family was forced to move out of our home of twenty-four years to a much smaller house because we needed a smaller mortgage.  Money is still so tight that I visit food pantries and hot meal distributions on a regular basis to help make ends meet.  I have a wonderful friend who brings us dinner the day after treatment day, and regularly brings a bag or two of groceries along with it.   Along with the hardships, some wonderful things have happened. I have reconnected wit

It is currently 10:45am Saturday morning.  I am finally awake enough for an update. Thursday went well enough, normal day at work and then when I got home; bedtime usual time (between 7pm-8pm).  I woke up just before midnight with severe abdominal pain, back pain, vomiting, and diarrhea.  This has happened twice before.  Not waiting it out this time, not waiting to see if it gets better on it's own like the last two times.  I checked into the local ER around 12:30am -- door to door is only about a quarter of a mile.  Long story short, I was there until about 7:30am with my friends Zofran and morphine.  I actually needed to have two doses of each throughout the night, which is a change from before.  Usually one dose of each worked like a charm, and immediately.  Morphine did not work immediately like it did the two previous times.  This is a little concerning because eventually my body will get used to/adjust to the pain meds and I'll need them stronger.  Eventually there won

Background: I saw a therapist after my terminal diagnosis. One thing that she said stuck with me. She told me that I am a wife, a mother, a sister, an aunt, a lover of books, a knitter, a teacher. Picture those and the many other aspects of myself riding on my bus. Right now (at the time of diagnosis and chemo) the cancer was driving the bus. Eventually the cancer will move to the back of the bus. Keep cancer at the back of the bus. I have been trying to do that since. I just realized that I have been living the past six years awaiting imminent death. I've been living with this pall of death hanging over my head since I received my terminal diagnosis. It really helped, what my Interventional Radiologist told me before he did my lung biopsy when I was being diagnosed, that my stage 4 was grouped with stage 4s who had two weeks or so to live, and that there needs to be [more of a breakdown -- can't remember his exact words] within the stages, and that I had many, many y

Below is a research paper I wrote for the English Composition I class I am taking this summer.  I thought you might be interested in reading it.  Don't worry -- it's only 5 1/2 pages!  :) These are the comments my professor gave me --  the only downside is that I used APA instead of MLA.  He's not counting off for that, though.   This is an excellent Research Paper, Tammy. I am pleased with how this turned out. The good news is I am not going to recommend revision because you successfully met the main outcomes of this assignment. Your essay is purposeful and focused. It demonstrates a reason for your research. Metastatic Breast Cancer   Cancer is cancer is cancer, right?    This is the prevailing thought about cancer; but it is not necessarily so.   There are many nuances to cancer.   There are types, subtypes, stages, and receptors.   There are many different treatment options based on these types, subtypes, stages, and receptors.   Strides have been made over the yea

Good morning!  I understand that the "Subscribe by Email" feature will be discontinued.  So, if you rely on emails to receive updates from my blog, soon that will stop.  I am sorry for that; I do not have control over it.  If I can figure out another way to do it, I will.  So, if you want to keep receiving updates without checking the blog page, you can follow my Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/LivingWithStageIVBreastCancer).  I always post a link to a new blog post there immediately upon publishing it here.  Hope to see you there!

You may or may not know that I am attending college classes (virtually; I wouldn't be able to do this in person) to obtain my teaching degree.  For this summer semester, one of my classes is English Composition I.  Our essay this week was "compare and contrast".  I chose to compare and contrast Komen and METAvivor.  I just got feedback on it from my instructor.  100/100 and he loved it.  What do you think? A Tale of Two Cancer Fundraising Organizations Did you know that the Susan G. Komen (Komen) organization is not the only breast cancer fundraising organization out there?   METAvivor is an organization that donates a bigger percentage of its donations to breast cancer research than Komen does.   When we look at the founding of each organization (when it was founded, who founded it, and why it was founded), each organization’s public image, and information about how each organization treats research dollars, we will see that METAvivor is the better organization to dona

Last year, before the Covid lock-downs started, I applied for and obtained a job as a ticket-taker for our local baseball team, the Southern Maryland Blue Crabs.  I am honestly not a huge fan of baseball, but it is a great community event whenever there is a home game.  We went to games sporadically when the boys were little, mostly during school nights or scout nights.  Whenever we have gone to a game we have seen lots of friends and neighbors.  It is a great time, even if  baseball isn't really your thing.  To be completely honest, my sole motivation for taking the job was to supplement our meager income.  My husband had recently gone out of work on disability, so his income was cut.  Our house payment, however, was not.  We were already struggling financially due to our combined medical bills, so a decrease in income was awful.  I had already picked up a two extra-pay coaching positions at the school that I work at -- softball for the end of last school year, and field hockey fo

In case you don't know, I have begun taking classes in order to obtain a teaching degree.  One of the classes is Public Speaking.  Our final speech is a Persuasive speech.  The topic I chose is "Caring for Others".  I thought you might be interested.  Please, leave a comment and let me know what you think. Update July 2021 -- I have taken my speech notes and expanded on it for an English paper.  If you don't want to watch the speech, here's the paper: 🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷 It Takes a Village…. They say it takes a village to raise a child … I say it also takes a village to care for a sick person.   You will not be able to tell by my appearance, but I have Stage 4 cancer.   I was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer just over six years ago.   Since then, I have been on continuous treatment.   Especially while I was undergoing chemotherapy, but still, even now six years later, I have been approached by so many people wantin

This is a blog post was started a few years ago and put on the back burner.  Enjoy. Written on July 31, 2017 Facebook reminds us about our past.  Yesterday, it reminded me that last year I posted this photo with the caption "What a difference a year makes": The two photos at the top were taken two years ago while I was resting in bed recovering from a chemo session with my daytime caregiver and my evening caregiver.  The photo at the bottom, which was one year later, was taken at the Calvert Marine Museum.  I thought I was "getting stronger every day" and I did seem to be improving.  My hair was growing back.  I had more energy and stamina.  Heck, to not deal with the parking, we walked from the Holiday Inn to the concert.  We weren't alone in that, lots of people did.  I wouldn't be able to do that today.  These days, I walk with a cane.  It helps me keep my balance.  When I started using it, I got lots of surprised looks and questions about it from fa

I posted this on my personal Facebook page last night, and have been overwhelmed with the responses.  Everyone has been so, so kind and encouraging.  I thought I'd share it here, because living with a terminal illness is what made me take so long to take the jump after the but was put in my ear, so to speak.  I initially said, "No way!" but after talking with people about it and thinking on it more, I decided that I have nothing to lose!  And, if I am still alive to earn the degree, if I am still alive to obtain a certificated teaching position, that's more income for my family and a higher life insurance policy I leave for my husband.   📚🖉📚🖉📚🖉📚🖉📚🖉📚🖉📚🖉📚🖉📚🖉📚🖉📚 You guys. I just have to share. My heart is full. I haven't told many people this, but with the gentle push of certain people -- the one who put the bug in my ear in a conversation in passing, the one who praised me to that person, my co-teacher who calls me a teacher, and my husband (all

Before Today's Treatment Today I sit in the chair in the infusion center for the 100th time.  (These 100 times are for treatment days; they are not counting the port access or the traveling to the hospital for scan days every three months for the past almost six years.)   100 times receiving the life extending medication keeping the cancer cells in my body from growing.  100 times having my port accessed.  100 times making the drive from Waldorf or La Plata to Georgetown, the past couple of years by myself.  100 times having my feet feel heavier with every step as I walk into the hospital from the parking garage.  100 times walking in to the infusion center to be greeted by name and with smiles.  100 times feeling stressed as my port is accessed (because I'm afraid of needles, and because sometimes the port likes to be troublesome).  100 times sitting in that chair for approximately three hours being fussed over by the staff while the life saving/extending medication flows thr