“You are cancer free.”

I received my pathology results over the phone from my surgeon about 48 hours ago…

Here’s how things went leading up to the phone call…

The last week has been quite a blur. It mostly consisted of me going on some walks, struggling to do any task on my own, popping pain pills, and napping. A big shoutout to my amazing mom (happy early Mother’s Day to all you amazing moms out there) who has helped me do everything from sit up in bed to have a sip of water in the middle of the night, make me dinner, help me put on clothes, and sit me in the tub with 4 inches of water to clean my butt like an infant.

Two days ago (one week post-surgery), my mother and I went to the plastic surgeon’s office to have two out of the three drains removed. (One per breast and one for the lymph node/armpit area. She removed the two from the breasts). It would be my first time seeing myself after losing my breasts. The tight bandage that had been wrapped around me making it hard to take a full deep breath was finally removed. She cut the drain cords and I felt woozy as the first one was pulled from the hole punch-sized incisions in the sides of my upper rib area. It’s quite a long rope-like cord that is slipped out from your body and I lied down to have the second one removed. It didn’t hurt— it was just such an unnatural feeling and it reminded me of an Alien movie or something; having some creature extracted from growing inside you.

Once the feeling of nausea had passed, I sat up so she could assess things. I was amazed by their work. Now, it’s not pretty, but the incision area and stitching seems very clean and minimal considering what their task at hand was to do…! I can see the potential in how my chest can be rebuilt over the next year, let’s just say. Right now, if you were to see me from the side, I appear flat as hell (less so than a typical male chest) but with the expanders slipped under the muscle. So there is a little bit of ‘faux underboob’, let’s just say. You can see the shape of the expanders and from the front there is the illusion of the slightest bit of cleavage. In a top (and viewing me front on) I don’t look half bad. Considering I am small chested naturally, I am pleased and excited to see where things can go from here.

I am told it will be about 6 months (give or take around radiation) of getting fills. This means pumping the expanders overtime to stretch the skin and make room for the final implant size I want next year. It is a long process but I hope by Autumn 2021 I will be able to get my chest tattoos and call it a day on this chapter of my life!

I was told I would receive a phone call later this day with my pathology results and so I sat around waiting all morning saying over and over again in my head “I am cancer free, I am cancer free, I am cancer free.”

The call came in 5 minutes after my mom had pulled out of the driveway to head to work and so my father was the only one home.

The surgeon who had performed my surgery (and also had given me my initial diagnosis on October 11th, 2019) called and asked how I was doing, whether or not I had any questions, side effects, pain, etc. Once that was out of the way she got to the pathology results. She told me that out of the estimated 8cm mass that I had originally had in the Fall (that is over 3 inches) “essentially your entire left breast”, that come surgery there was only two 2mm spots left to remove. That the chemotherapy had shrunk my tumour that drastically. Which makes sense, because at the last few oncologist visits we were unable to feel the tumour anymore so I had been hopeful! As for the lymph nodes, she removed 12. Out of the 12 only 1 or 2 showed signs of being ‘pre-cancerous’ (I forget her exact words on everything, bear with me). I was told she was very happy with my margins and results considering my initial diagnosis. I asked her what this all meant and she said, “as of right now you are cancer free.”

Hearing those words was surreal. I teared up and my throat felt tight and I thanked her for her work.

After hanging up I shouted for my Dad who was upstairs working. He ran down all concerned but as I told him the news we hugged (a very weak hug considering the state of my body) and cried saying, “this is the best news ever!”

I called my Grandma and Opa, my best friends Char and Chris, Cory and Jen, and waited a few hours to surprise my mom once she was to return home from work…

In the meantime I went for a walk and the skies were opening up and the sun was peaking out. It was like the world was singing for me. (May 6th is also my friend Scott’s birthday so I’ll never forget this date. Rest in Peace, Scott. Thanks for looking down on me and all our friends who have been sending well wishes. We think of you often).

“I am cancer free, I am cancer free, I am cancer free.”

Since the news, I’ve told a few more people over the phone or via text/messenger if they had asked me for an update.

I’ve been processing these words through a range of emotions…

After the initial wave of relief and amazement, I’ve come to the conclusion that I just don’t know “what is right” or “how I should” feel.

I don’t know how to tell certain people. I don’t know if I should.

It doesn’t feel real. And I feel unable to celebrate anyway.

I feel more afraid now than ever before because I have gained back what I had lost and worked so hard to get back these last 7 months. I am so incredibly scared to lose it again before I have the chance to do what I want in life (which, at this point, isn’t much. My priorities and life goals have changed so much…)

I feel like crying as I type this. I know it will come across as ungrateful or just completely odd and delusional.

I know those I have told this news are more excited for me than I am. And that’s okay. I cannot explain to you in words how I am feeling...

“I’m always saying I won’t change but I ain’t the same. Everything is different, I can’t complain. Don’t know what you’re missing? Shame on you.” — Hurt Feelings by Mac Miller

Some moments I’m grinning ear to ear and walking outside bald and confident as hell in the sunshine, breathing the fresh air, stopping to look at flowers, and thinking to myself, how fucking incredible is life?

And then other moments I feel like I’m alone in this confused dark pit and in complete fear that I’ll get a call back with unfortunate news. (Which, to be completely raw with you all, is very possible. Cancer is a crafty bitch.)

I bounce between feeling like the most badass strong woman on the planet to feeling completely alone and confused as to why I’m not jumping-for-joy, screaming-it-from-the-rooftop ”happy”.

I’m writing this as I’m trying not to vomit or pass out from the pain and odd sensations in my left arm— I have cording from the surgery which is (for me) a visible strand of damaged connective tissue running alongside my underarm. It is basically nerve damage from the lymph node removal. Paired with the numbness of my tricep area, I am fearful of developing lymphedema but I just have to live with whatever else comes my way (right now I show no signs of swelling anyway, which is good).

So it’s strange. I have received some of the best news imaginable and yet I don’t know what to do with myself.

I am anxious to start living.
I just want to grab a drink with my best friends that I haven’t seen in months.
I just want to go on a date and feel pretty again.
I just want to book a vacation.
I just want to get my ‘fuck you cancer’ tribute tattoo.
I want to move out and live independently again.
I just want to finish treatment and move on in life.

But unfortunately in the world we currently live in, I just end up sitting around most of my day.

I go for a few walks. I eat. I nap. I play video games. I do some of my hobbies. I get bored. My parents work. I don’t see anyone else. And life goes on.

I am more ‘off my game’ and routine than ever before and I wind up not knowing what to do with myself.

I know I am being hard on myself and that it takes time to recover.

But I feel like now more than ever my life has a time limit. An unknown amount of time. And that looming sensation is such an odd thing to describe. It’s not pleasant. No one wants to hear me talk about it and I can’t blame them.

“Good new that’s all they wanna hear. No, they don’t like it when I’m down” — Good News by Mac Miller

I am the ultimate potato— but Ozzy still loves me, haha!

I don’t want to make plans beyond what I’ve stated above. Truly, all I want in life is to travel a bit, and live simply and happily with some pets and perhaps a partner. I am hesitant to make any life goals beyond a 1 year period. I am sure others who have walked a similar path to mine can relate…

So to summarize…

I am ecstatic, but I am anxious.
I am happy, but I am hesitant.
I am thankful, but I am fearful.
I am amazing, but I am in pain.

“If I fall, if I die, know I lived it to the fullest. If I fall, if I die, know I lived and missed some bullets” — Pursuit of Happiness by Kid Cudi

My perspective on life is so different. I tell myself when I’m down to focus on the present. There is no point in regretting the past or feeling anxious about the future. No one knows how long they have.

To truly enjoy life, you have to live in the moment. Make the best of today. Live in the present.

Okay, so I can’t fly to Japan right now which is my #1 dream in life. I can’t even see my best friends for a drink. But I make my way down my ‘to do’ list or ‘wish list’ and do something I know I can do right now. Like learn French, get better at the piano, walk out in the sunshine, call a friend.

Practising gratitude and meditating makes a big difference. To appreciate the most simple of things in life— take a step down from your high horse and privileged state of being and take in all the things that make up your amazing life. For me I’ve been knocked down to acknowledge the most basic of things. Do you know how cool eyelashes are? They block dust from getting in your eyes! Do you know how cool your arms are? They write, pick up weights, clothe yourself, reach for your phone charger, hug others.

Life is amazing. It’s difficult, it’s messy, it’s ugly. But even in the darkest of times it is beautiful, incredible, wonderful.

So what’s next? Well, for the remainder of this month…

I will be brought in at some point next week for my final drain removal. Once that is done I’ll be able to shower once the holes heal up a bit. By that point it will be 2.5-3 weeks since I have last showered and I cannot wait…
I will have a Herceptin injection next Tuesday at the chemo ward. This continues until the end of the year.
I will be brought in within the next two weeks for my first expander fill. I don’t know what to expect (will I notice the increase in size already? Will it hurt? What is the process like?)
I have my consultation with the radiologist oncologist May 26th to discuss that plan for June/July timeframe. I am eager to find out more on that!

My journey isn’t over yet but I know I need to allow myself a moment of contentment.

“God shuffled the cards, dealt me a hand with impossible odds. Put an obstacle course up. Look, and I conquered them all.” — Tribe by Bas ft. J. Cole

Thank you to everyone who has prayed for me, sent well wishes my way, checked in on me occasionally, sent me messages of love and encouragement… it means everything to me.

I hope you are all doing well and I’ll talk to you soon.

Feel free to email me at shestaysstrongblog@gmail.com if you have any questions or comments. And if you’re not already, follow me on Instagram @shestaysstrongblog for more frequent updates.

Thank you for reading XO

#shestaysstrong