my 4th pet scan in 2014… I have a glowing personality

On the crazy cycle of living with stage 4 breast cancer – tomorrow is a scan day.  I have a PET scan at 7:15am.   (deep breath. deep breath)

We are thankful for family friends (Charlotte & JC Stites and their family) who we can drop off two blurry eyed kids to at 6:45am and know they will be fed, loved and walked to school while we face another scan and whatever news it brings.  The boys are excited about this fun change in routine and we are rolling with it.  It also happens to be a “cancer awareness” day at school 547e79d6f02065285086d99bwhere kids can wear shirts supporting cancer organizations and show support for people they love.  In a reflection of how much our kids really do “get it” Wills decided he’d like to just wear his uniform.  “I don’t want to think about cancer either buddy,” I said, and explained that this was simply a nice way for our school to raise awareness for organizations like Hope Scarves and others helping support people with cancer. He said, “I still just want to wear my uniform.”  I get it Wills.  Bennett said he “wished he had a bomb that would blow up the cancer.” “I would just prick your finger and you’d just bleed one drop of blood, but I would shoot a bomb under your skin and it would find the cancer and blow it up without hurting you.”  If only Bennett.  If only!!

As with each turn of the scan-treat-repeat merry go round we appreciate your thoughts, prayers, good juju & positive energy tomorrow morning as I lay in that buzzing tube and then as we wait for the test results.  I am feeling good and hoping for more good news of stable disease or even better yet… no evidence of disease!  But, we are also prepared to face news of progression with the same determination and hope that we face each step of this journey.

Living life with stage IV metastatic breast cancer is slowly becoming our new normal and we are thankful for your support, encouragement and love along the way.

with hope,
Lara

Seven years of laughter, love and adventure

Seven years ago today we heard five small words that changed the course of our life forever.  I sat in the barber chair with a bouncing blonde two year old on my lap getting his curls trimmed, 7  months pregnant and thinking about cabinet finishes for the home renovation project we were in the middle of.  I was full of joy on a sunny November morning. My phone rang and the doctor said, “Lara, you have breast cancer.”

54610b22cb16b4263e9f059bBennett doesn’t know me before cancer and really Wills doesn’t either (he was the two year old).  But, I am so happy to know that the years following my first breast cancer diagnosis I was an even better version of myself. I reflect on the those 6 years with such a big smile on my face.  Cancer changed my life story dramatically, but we made the very best of the scary new chapter.  I gradually healed from my surgeries and chemotherapy.  We got our life back on track and I was a more confident, strong, exuberant version of myself.   Our family was tested and so much stronger for having faced such a scary time together.  Cancer has always been a part of our life as a family, but it hasn’t been our way of life.

Since cancer I have ran marathons and triathlons, climbed mountains and repelled down waterfalls.  I kayaked into deep dark caves and slept under the stars.  I have taught the boys to ride two wheelers, tie their shoes and express their feelings with words instead of fists (use your words, use your words…)   We’ve snuggled tighter and laughed louder.

But, this year as I “celebrate” my cancerversary it is tainted with a new date.  The date the cancer came back.  The second phone call, January 9 2014.  This time so much more devastating because after six years in the cancer world we know so much about cancer.  This time the conversations were not nearly as reassuring, the plan not as clear…

The strong, better version of myself was broken and lost.  But, as I look back on the fact that I have been54610af4ca16b4bb6d106fad facing cancer for my children’s entire life and I think about how they still have me.  Half of the time Jay and I have been married he has been my caregiver as well as my husband.  But I am still their wife and mommy despite fears and sadness and pain.  I know I am determined to continue to be able to say this. Even in the face of this new diagnosis.  My story isn’t complete.  This new chapter was not expected or easily navigated.  But, each day or week I look back at the things we did together as a family, the laughter and adventures we have together reassures me that we have more living to do together.  Lots more!

I am so very lucky that for now my cancer is responding to treatments.  My body is regaining its strength, my laugher is getting louder again.   We are writing this new chapter each day and defining what this new, new normal is for Team Mac.    The past seven years have been filled with much more happiness than sorrow, laughter than tears and hugs instead of tugs.  Seven amazing years I am so incredibly thankful for.

I have cancer.  Cancer doesn’t have me.
Lara

Reflections on October

I have written three posts in the month of October and left them all as incomplete drafts.  Mainly because I have had so much “life” going on and secondly because I couldn’t quite put a finger on what I wanted to say.

First off, I am feeling great.  I have been enjoying the changing fall colors on my trail runs, enjoying my continued quest to live as clean and healthy as possible, spending full days at the Hope Scarves office laughing and planning with our amazing staff and volunteers, watching the boys play soccer, a trip to Michigan to visit family & date nights with Jay.   I took a trip to the beach with friends where I paddle boarded and sailed in the Atlantic Ocean.  I even got flagged in by the lifeguard because a shark was following me! Talk about feeling alive!

I am learning to accept sadness and fear along with happiness.   Allowing myself to laugh and joke around while also giving myself permission to be scared and sad.  It is a roller coaster.  It is hard, but we are doing it.   I have monthly injections of xgeva to strengthen my bones and take a daily medication called an Aromatase Inhibitor.  Both have some side effects along with the lack of estrogen in my body since removing my ovaries (medically induced menopause).  But, all are completely manageable and I am so thankful they appear to be keeping the cancer from growing at this point.   I will have a PET scan in December (every 3 months) to continue to closely monitor the situation.  I feel very blessed that my body is responding to treatment and that I have more time to live my amazing life and not be dominated by cancer.

54539bba8b5cd3dc0fd251eeAnd, so as life as a stage 4 metastatic patient becomes the “new normal” I reflect on October. A month set aside for Breast Cancer Awareness – a month that one would think that I – one of the 150,000 women with the most aggressive and deadly form of the disease would feel rallied behind and comforted.  However, this month has been incredibly hard.  Mainly because the mainstream perception and take on breast cancer is fight it, beat it, be celebrated as a survivor and move on!   Rallies around the country give the impression that we are winning this “war” that we are beating breast cancer and there is so much to celebrate in pink boas, tiaras & tutus.  However, the death rate from breast cancer hasn’t changed significantly in 30 years.  40,000 women will die this year from breast cancer.  It is the leading cause of death for women 35-45.   I was one of those happy survivors – wrapped up in my survivorship, celebrating my victory.  I wouldn’t change that for a moment.  I don’t want to take away from the celebrations of those who are living cancer free after facing cancer.  It is worth celebrating!!!  I just wish there was more awareness that 20-30% of all women diagnosed become stage 4.  Once this happens you are in treatment for the rest of your life.  The average life expectancy is 2-3 years.  These are the facts.   These women and men! (myself included) need to be part of the breast cancer story.  And, more money needs to be directed toward research to help truly save lives by extending the lives of those living with the ONLY form of breast cancer that is deadly – stage 4, metastatic breast cancer.  I think there were some significant steps taken this month to broaden the story of breast cancer.  I worked with our Komen Foundation in Louisville to host their first event focused on metastatic breast cancer survivors specifically and raise several hundred dollars for metastatic research. Hope Scarves is creating a research fund where we will direct a portion of the money we raise to research.  It is a very small step in the right direction and I hope Komen and other breast cancer organizations will recognize that the breast cancer experience is very different for those who are stage 4.    My hope is with research we can turn this fatal form of breast cancer into a chronic disease you can manage and live with.  Time is ticking for me, but I am committed to doing all I can to raise awareness about the unique needs and experience of stage 4 patients and raise funds for research to help me and those who come after me feel comforted and advocated for when their breast cancer spreads beyond the breast.  Two places you can direct donations with a focus on metastatic breast cancer are www.metavivor.org and a new organization I am helping to found called www.twistedpink.org

So, as we get our Halloween costumes ready today (Wills is Jake from State Farm and Bennett, an injured soccer player- complete with a real cast on his arm) I am glad to wrap up breast cancer awareness month.  I am excited to focus on being a mom, wife, daughter, friend, sister first and breast cancer advocate/patient second.   I believe in finding meaning in every step of life.  The meaning in this new diagnosis for me is to cherish life more fully, to be present in the little moments of life and to help bring a voice to stage 4 breast cancer.  I hope I can do this in big and small ways for a long (deep breath) time!

Thank you as always for your interest in our journey and your support along the way.  One day at a time with love, laughter and adventure.

Time to change the laundry!!
Lara
#livingwellwithmetastaticbreastcancer
#stage4needsmore

National Metastatic Breast Cancer day

I felt like I couldn’t let today go by without writing about living with metastatic breast cancer – doing my part to continue to help people be “aware” of this untold often overlooked part of breast cancer.

Metastatic breast cancer is often left out of the conversation about breast cancer because it isn’t pretty, sparkly or pink.   No one (including myself) wants to shed light on the fact that breast cancer can come back – regardless of original early stage diagnosis and the best treatments (both of which i had).  When it does there is no cure.  There are treatment options, but those who have metastatic breast cancer will die of this disease.  Maybe in a matter of months, maybe in years.  But, right now there is no way to stop it.  There are no “end of treatment celebrations” and no matter how much we brave patients “fight it”  we can’t stop it from taking the lives of mothers, sisters, daughters and friends.

I have metastatic breast cancer.  Yet, I don’t look sick at all.  I am more “sick” than an early stage breast cancer patient who is bald, tired and sick from chemotherapy.  Yet, I don’t look at all like a cancer patient.  At least right now.  But, we don’t know when the cancer cells in my body will outsmart the current drug I am on and I develop another painful bone lesion, the cancer spreads to another vital organ or stops responding to treatment.

Today, on National Metastatic Breast Cancer Awareness Day I am doing my part to raise awareness for people like me.  It is unfair, frustrating, depressing and awful.  Yet, we get up each morning – hug our kids, walk our dogs in the rain, look for lost shoes and “do” life. Every normal moment holds the joys of “living” but also the tainted, twisted film of having a terminal illness.   This weekend we were at a soccer tournament for our son Wills.  I love watching him play because when I am cheering him and his teamates on I don’t think about cancer.  I am so nervous watching him in the goal that I don’t think about anything else.  But, then a parent slaps my husband on the back after a successful game and jokingly says “Keep that kid in the goal.  I see a soccer scholarship in his future… ” How will be navigate college without me?  When will the day come when he doesn’t hear me cheering “lets go wills” from the sideline.   Tears.  hold back the tears.  reality.  metastatic breast cancer.  get to a private place to cry. don’t let them see me cry.

Colors of Courage

“There is a lot of love in this yard” said a friend to me Friday night at our Colors of Courage event. The culmination of a lot of hard work (and a very welcome distraction from treatment) came to a point as an amazing event in support of hope scarves and women facing cancer.

The hope scarves event was “the best yet…” A line we have found ourselves saying each of the past 3 years! We had a sell out crowd with over 500 people, most everything we ate and drank was donated- right down to the mint infused makers mark specialty cocktail. The weather was perfect, the music toe tappin and the laughter rang through the trees.

At one point I walked up onto the porch and just stood quietly taking it all in. Thankful to be healthy enough to run around and worry about details like cute paper straws and auction item props. Thankful for 542b4e18cb16b4f10caf696aso many friends and family who traveled from around the US to show their support, thankful that my little idea has become something so many people care about and find important enough to support. Thankful to have friends who spend hours working on this event and even open up their home to make it happen. Thankful for a husband who will do anything for me- from holding my hand during chemo to picking up light towers and bourbon barrels on opposite ends of town. Thankful. Thankful. Thankful.

I am humbled to have so much support and will remember this evening my entire life (hopefully that is a very long time!) I found myself very sad at some points of the evening. Wishing I was as happy as I was at this event last year. Wishing I was as carefree as so many of the smiling faces around me. But, then I just looked around again and realized life is precious. These are the moments that make up our story – none of us truly know where our story will take us. In that moment I was happy, proud, carefree and hopeful.

I continue to feel great! Running, biking, working full time, planning my next adventures. I am so grateful to add Friday night and our Colors of Courage event to my story.

I look forward to the next chapter with hope.

To see pictures from our event please click here: http://tinyurl.com/ColorsOfCourage