Who’s Knocking please?

Approximately one year ago, I received my second breast cancer diagnosis.

American writer Susan Sontag once said that breast cancer is the disease that enters without knocking.

That description has always stayed with me.

With many illnesses, there are warning signs. Pain. Fatigue. Breathing problems. Digestive issues. Something that whispers, “Pay attention. Something isn’t right.”

There’s a knock at the door.

But with breast cancer, for many women, there’s often no warning at all. You feel fine. Healthy, even. Life is moving along normally… until suddenly it isn’t.

The past year has been a whirlwind of doctor appointments, tests, scans, consultations, decisions, surgery, chemo, radiation, therapy… and more.

Recently I had my third PET scan in 12 months. These scans use a safe radioactive tracer to detect cancer cells throughout the body. Thankfully, each scan has shown improvement and positive response to treatment.

Meaning: the cancer in my bone is currently being managed successfully. No further growth. No metastatic movement.

Hallelujah.

And while I’m deeply grateful for these results, it doesn’t mean I don’t still experience days filled with scanxiety, fear, fatigue, discouragement, or uncertainty.

So when people ask me, “How are you?” I understand the deeper questions underneath it:

• Are you cured?
• Are you well now?
• Are you going to be okay?

And the honest answers are:

• I will never be cured.  (the goal is management for a lifetime)
• I actually feel pretty great most days — aside from the ever-changing side effects, tightness, swelling, and fatigue that come and go.
• And yes… I truly believe I’m going to be okay.

So now my job, along with my treatment team, is to manage it. To coexist with it. To follow my “house rules”:

Stay consistent with treatment. (labs, follow-up, scans, etc)
Healthy diet.  
Exercise.
Rest.
Keep living.

 These are the things I can control.  The goal is not “perfection”.  It’s balance and making realistic choices based on facts, not fiction.  (more on that later…)

The rest is in God’s hands.

I’m not sharing this for any special consideration. I think I’m simply trying to make sense of this journey out loud… with people who care about me.

And maybe, in doing that, someone else navigating uncertainty, illness, fear, or hard seasons will feel a little less alone too.

I’m here for anyone who needs support — please reach out.

With love,

Laura