My story starts with a heartache that I consider greater than a cancer diagnosis. It begins the day my son died, August 27th, 2013. I was 35 years old and 36 weeks pregnant, and I had to hear the most awful words in the world, “I’m so sorry, there’s no heartbeat.”. Nothing is worse than holding your dead child in your arms, nothing. A year later, I noticed I was gaining weight and having more unexplained symptoms. Several tests later, a mass, 22cm large tumor was found, ovarian cancer, November 2014. 3 weeks home from the hospital, I was in bed, recovering from surgery, I scratched my breast nonchalantly, and found my stage 2 breast cancer, er+/pr+ and her2+. Just 6 rounds of chemo, ending April 2015 and then 30 rads, ended August 2015, I had a radical hysterectomy November 2015 (to avoid further issues). I had the genetic test, BRCA1 and BRCA2, among others. All negative. I am a mystery so my doctors say.
There is an outcome to cancer. Live. Just live. Don’t let the ER visits, the bad tastes, the hair loss, the bowel problems, lack of hunger, etc, ...don’t let them get you. You have a reason to fight this, so find that reason and focus on it. My now 14 year old, she is my reason. I wrote a letter to her brother, I apologized to him, said I had to stick around for a while and take care of his sister. I have my reason to continue the fight, and so do you.