When it rains, it pours.

"We all have this dark image of cancer and treatment and the path through it. But what we don't keep in mind are the gifts and the beautiful surprises along the way. The journey is not all bad. Hard, yes. But there are good things that happen along the way too. Keep an open mind and open heart and be prepared to experience wonderful things too. Sounds crazy but it's true. My cancer was in 2002. The advances since then are probably astronomical. There is every reason to be hopeful and to live hopefully - to practice a wonderful sort of defiance."

When we first found out about my diagnosis, another cancer survivor sent me that text. I remember reading it and crying - terrified, and still not yet realizing just how damn hard the journey would be, but also crying because her words really did give me the smallest sense of hope that I could and would survive this. That as dark as cancer is, I could still find the light if I looked for it. I was so touched by her words that I saved her text in my phone, somehow knowing I would need it as a regular reminder to stand strong - defiant - when I find myself in the eye of the storm. A regular reminder to find the joy, even when you have cancer. Especially when you have cancer.

The past two weeks have been so emotionally painful because my hair loss continues to traumatize me. When we cut it two weeks ago, I thought that would be the worst of it. Boy was I wrong. Almost immediately after that, it started falling out hard and fast. Way faster than I expected. When I wash what's left of it in the shower, my hands are just covered in hair. The drain looks like it collects a full head of hair. And then the worst part: seeing how little is left on my head. It's almost completely gone now and I shudder every time I look in the mirror. I don't see myself. All I see is an ugliness I can do nothing about and it's an awful awful feeling. It hurts me in a way that I never could have imagined. It hurts me every time my husband looks at me. It's hard to understand when you're not going through it. Some might think shaving your head isn't a big deal at all. And compared to going almost completely bald within a week, shaving my head was a piece of cake. It's the ongoing fallout that continues to taunt me. Reminding me daily that I'm sick and have no option but to power through this shit. I try to remind myself that with every hair that falls out I'm one step closer to this cancer being gone. It doesn't really help, but I try to remind myself.

I've found myself thinking about that text message so many times these past two weeks when I've felt my lowest. When it's taken everything inside of me to stand up tall and practice that wonderful sort of defiance against cancer. (Cancer, you son of a bitch.)

But this post is not about the dark. It's about the light. The good. Because in the midst of all of this awfulness and personal anguish, we received some incredibly good news and BIG reasons to hope. The words of that text came to life for me, showing me clear examples of how the journey is not all bad (hard, yes), and that really good things can happen along the way too.

***

Monday, February 22, 2021, I went in for my second dose of chemotherapy. It would be the same format as the first round: labs to check my blood levels, then a quick visit with my doctor, then chemo. My mom came with me that day and I was so happy to have her there with me. There really is something about moms and the safety net they cast just by being there.

After my labs were drawn, we went upstairs and the nurse had me change into a robe before the doctor came in. I didn't realize she would want to give me an exam after just one treatment?! Would she really be able to feel anything? I had never been more excited for a breast exam.

My doctor came in and we talked for awhile. I always have a ton of questions. My labs had all come back great that morning, and she was thrilled with how relatively well I did with the first treatment. Finally it was time for my exam. She checked my breast first, and after a few seconds she said: "Oh yeah, I can feel that it's shrunk some. There's still some thickening, but it's much softer and smaller."

!!!!!!!!!!!

"It" being the tumor! The little bastard had SHRUNK!

I could barely process what she said. I couldn't believe she could feel the difference after one treatment. And all my glass-half-empty self could think to say back was "Are you sure? Do you remember what it felt like before? Do you really think it's smaller?" Thankfully she knew I was just excited and wasn't trying to insult her. I can't even remember how she answered, but her response was confident. I felt so many things all at once. Disbelief, relief, joy. Still a little bit of fear that it was too good to be true. That somehow it was a fluke.

Then she checked my right armpit area to see if she could still feel the lymph node where the cancer had initially spread. "Yep, I'm not feeling anything there anymore either. All good signs that the chemo is working." She said the words and it gave me chills.

*breathes HUGE sigh of relief / disbelief*

The energy in the room changed instantly and for the first time in a long time, I felt strong. I felt like I was winning. And that even though I was an emotional wreck about my hair, the trauma was worth it because the chemo appeared to be doing its job. My mom and I were giddy, almost bouncing. And I know my doctor was as happy to deliver that news as we were to hear it. My exam had breathed new life back into me and in that moment gave us the most hope we'd felt since this all started.

Looking back, I think I was a little bit in shock to have such a significant update so early into treatment. I wanted to take the doctor's words for face value and run with them, but the pessimist inside of me warned me to remain cautiously optimistic. There was still a long road ahead and we definitely weren't out of the woods yet, but true to the words in that text message I had saved, it just felt wonderful to experience something wonderful.

Chemo went great that day. They took the training wheels off of my pre-meds given I didn't have any reactions or immediate side effects the first time. No Tylenol or Benadryl this time around - just the two anti-nausea meds and we were off to the races. At the end of the day, they gave me a second injection to help keep my ovaries in hiding. Hard to believe it had been 28 days already since my last one. And that was it. #2 was behind us. I can't remember if the sun was shining that day, but it was definitely a bright one.

***

Later that same night - more great news. (Some people just have all the luck, right?)

My genetic testing came back, and of all 37 genes tested for breast/gynecological cancers, ZERO had any genetic mutations! While this didn't help explain why cancer chose me, it meant two, even more important things:

1. I'm not at any higher risk of getting other cancers that were tested for

2. There is no genetic mutation/increased cancer risk I could have potentially passed down to Sadie.

*breathes BIGGER sigh of relief*

The day of my chemo treatments I actually feel pretty decent. Joe and I had taken advantage of the time, left Sadie with my mom and ran to our second home, Costco, to pick up a few things. So there we were, standing next to a pallet of cherry tomatoes when my genetics counselor called with the second piece of great news that day. We had her on speaker so we could both hear the results, and when she was done, we just stood and hugged each other tight for a long time. Right next to the cherry tomatoes. All we could think of was Sadie and how happy we were that she wasn't at any higher risk. My love for Costco runs deep, but I think getting such wonderful news while we were there solidified my bond with the wholesaler even further. We couldn't believe all of the good news that day. Joe was ready to play the lottery.

People often say "when it rains it pours" and it almost always refers to bad news things. For us that day, it rained and poured the best news we could have ever asked for and we couldn't believe our luck. We hugged Sadie and said big prayers of gratitude that night. We didn't allow ourselves to feel anything but thankful. Finally, just like the text message had promised, we had received some beautiful surprises on this journey and had so many reasons to be hopeful.

***

Tomorrow will be the start of week 2 after my second chemo treatment, and I'm already feeling better than I did after my first. Chemo #3 on March 15th, and I'll be halfway there.