My neutrophils are at .8, the number I need to be at to continue taking Ibrance is above 1.  My tumor markers are at 88.  So looks like my white blood cells are tanking and my tumor markers are on the rise.  The oncologist doesn’t seem too concerned yet.  I’ll wait an extra week before taking Ibrance to allow my neutrophils to rise.  And of course I get to go for the ever popular CT scan.

I said to him that I know one of these days I’ll walk into an appointment and he’ll say that Ibrance has quit working.  He kinda laughed and said I was right.  I know he didn’t like having to admit to that, but he did.

My next appointment with him is New Year’s Eve so I’ll either be walking out of his office ready for a happy party or a pity party.

Having this cancer is so all consuming sometimes that it’s just really sad.

I hate needles.  Really, really hate them.  I’m lucky that right now I only need to go for bloodwork every 2 months (every 6 months for my gp).  Every time I need to talk myself into going.  Today I didn’t take any money with me for parking so if the “lab” spots were taken(they’re free), I’d have to go back home.  Well, they were taken.  And I got half way back home and turned around, talking to myself the whole way.  There was a free spot when I got back.  And the bargaining.  I’ll treat myself after or I’ll get to go back to bed or I’ll buy myself some more yarn, or….

The anxiety ramps up in steps.  It starts the week before I go for bloodwork. All these questions in my head go round and round, over again.  Will I make it through the bloodwork without any issues?  Will the test results be ok?  Will this be the week I find out that the cancer is spreading again?  Then the day of the actual bloodwork the anxiety ramps up, getting ready and leaving my apartment. Waiting for my number to be called at the lab.  Waiting for the tech to come in and take my blood.  Waiting for the needle to go in.  Waiting for the 3 vials to be filled.  I don’t relax until I’m back in my car.  Then the anxiety hits me again because I know that tomorrow I see the oncologist and find out about the tests.  And I know he’ll be sending me for yet another CT.  Oh yay 😦

You’d think that after all this time I’d be ok with all of it but I’m not.  Instead of being ok, I’m getting worse with it all.

My friend is coming with me tomorrow like he did the last appointment I had with my oncologist.  I’m to the point where most of the time I’m just not emotionally strong enough to go by myself.  Nothing he can do by being there but it helps that he is.

October, also known as Pinktober, is breast cancer awareness month.  And today is the CIBC Run For The Cure  and I’m all for it.  I love that there is awareness out there now.  I did the CIBC Run For the Cure the first time the year I finished treatment for breast cancer.   My reason then was because I was one of the 1 in 8 that would get breast cancer and I didn’t want anyone else to have to go through it if I could help it.  I’ve done the Run a handful of times.  I’d do it now if I was able to walk the required distance.  I did not know then that 20-30% of those 1 in 8 would get MBC and that I would be one of them. The Run will now give funds directly to MBC for teams that have “metastatic” in their name.

Everything is pink this month, from toilet paper to garbage trucks. Don’t get me wrong, I love the colour but I hate that big corporations tug at our heartstrings by saying they will donate to research if we buy their pink product. The fine print is always interesting for these corporations.  Are they donating a dollar a sale?  A cap of $25,000 overall?

Today makes me sad even though it’s a day for hope.  I hope none of my family gets MBC, I hope they find a cure soon, I hope the next treatment they find does an even better job than Ibrance is doing,  and yet I’m sad that so many people have cancer. That so many people have metastatic cancer (breast or other).  That so many people will die from this thing.

Everything you read downplays the fact that my cancer (“my”, like I own it) is terminal.  Yup, there’s treatment for it, but it isn’t to cure it, it’s to try to prolong my life.  Is the treatment easy?  Hell no!  Whether it’s chemo or radiation or pills or all of these, there are some serious side effects that go along with the treatment and at every new stage, there’s some serious considerations we have to deal with.  Every day is a fight, fighting the side effects that are fighting the cancer that is fighting to kill me.  Do I want to just give up?   Some days-absolutely.  I’m not the person I was before being diagnosed with MBC.  Not even close.  Everyone says how good I look and I’m grateful for that but I wish some days my inside showed on the outside.  Some days I’m just so mentally and physically tired of all this that I just want to stop treatment, but I remind myself that I do still have a tomorrow.