When I walked into the doctor’s office to get the results from a biopsy I had on my left breast, I pretty much had it all. I was 33, married to my best friend, with a beautiful two-year-old boy. I didn’t smoke or drink, I was a healthy body weight and was rarely ever sick, even with a cough or cold.
Breast cancer didn’t run in my family, so I wasn’t concerned. I figured my diagnosis would be a blocked milk duct, I’d have it dealt with, and I’d be back at work the next day.
Then came the doctor’s words: The results are concerning. You have breast cancer.
Completely unprepared for devastating news, I broke down. All I kept saying to the doctor was we need to get rid of it because I have a little boy who needs me. At this point, they believed it was early stages and I would have surgery and chemo and would be cured.
Okay, not ideal, but I could do this! Then came further tests and the road ahead looked bleak. The cancer was no longer just in my breast; it had spread to three of my vertebrae. I now had advanced breast cancer, stage IV breast cancer, metastatic breast cancer, terminal breast cancer.
Google told me just how severe the diagnosis was. But, with a five-year survival rate ranging from 20-25%, I was determined to be that miracle patient who beat the odds. I still had a lot of booboos to kiss better, practices and games to attend, homework and school projects to help with. I had to be there the first time his heart was broken.
My oncologist gave me hope. He outlined the options to treat my condition and I believed him. Awesome! There are options! It’s funny how what you consider to be good news changes after being diagnosed with cancer. I understood that having options was vital because cancer usually becomes resilient to one treatment and that means you need to move onto the next.
So I started with chemo. I was lucky not to get nauseous, but I did lose my hair. I responded well to that treatment and then moved onto tamoxifen, hoping it would work for at least five years. But just one year later, they found disease progression through a CT scan. My breast cancer was no longer just in my breast and bones now. It had invaded my liver. Despite treatment, two spots that were considered very small were now much bigger, plus additional spots had appeared.
Suddenly, my confidence in my prognosis felt shaky. Only a year and a half into this cancer journey, I had already exhausted three options that had failed. Having a lot of options is only good if they are going to work.
It was at this point that it really hit home just how serious and complex this disease is. A lot of it is trial and error to find a treatment plan that will fight the cancer but not leave you with debilitating side effects. My newest treatment, an oral chemo, has minimal side effects and I can still enjoy a quality of life. But what if this one doesn’t work? What will the next treatment bring? Will I be bed ridden and exhausted? Or constantly running to the bathroom to be sick? Will I have aches and pains that make it impossible for me to enjoy life? Or will it work and buy me more time?
There are so many unknowns right now, but one thing I am sure of is that more research needs to address what causes breast cancer to spread and what can be done to stop it in its tracks once it has. Too many of us—women of all ages—are having their lives cut short because we don’t have the answer.
While I believe the most important place to put our breast cancer funds is towards research to find a real cure, I still need resources to support me as I live with this terrible disease. Organizations such as Rethink Breast Cancer have been that resource for me. They offer a unique approach to support young women living with breast cancer of any stage, and while I can’t control the future, it’s so important to talk about how I feel and to share what I’m going through.
Breast cancer is not an “old lady disease” and as a young woman with a young family, I often need support from those who truly understand what I am going through while I continue to fight and pray for a cure. Thank you for listening. It means more than you know.
Michelle Riccio writes her story on her blog, TitHappens. Find food products, activities and procedures Michelle has embraced as part of her healing journey, plus updates on the status of her cancer, and anything else she feels like blogging about.
