Deep Thinky Thoughts™

I know I haven't updated this in a while. I'll work on a post to bring things up to date later. Later. Not right now. I have too much in my head right now to focus on that. A friend on the book of faces posted a link about the need for doctors to be willing to recommend palliative and hospice care for terminal patients, and it hit off a panic button in me.

This past month has seen a lot of losses among the metastatic ladies in the online community, and although I didn't know any of them particularly well, it's still a bit of a shaker. The average lifespan for someone diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer is three years. There's plenty of women who live longer than that, but a lot of women who die far sooner than that.

I only have the one spot on my liver. Just one. And I haven't worked my way through any treatments yet, save for one: Taxol. That's just one scratched off a long list of the things available to me as an ER/PR+ Her2- breast cancer patient. And my tumors responded quite nicely to the chemotherapy. I'm starting in with Zoladex at the end of the month in hopes that it will help keep the tumors stable for a good long while.

It still scares me sometimes to think that I'll be on hospice care someday. I don't intend to stop fighting until I've run through everything the medical world has to offer me. I can't stop. I won't give up, I won't call it quits, not while there's still a chance something might work, not while there's still treatments I haven't tried yet. I'm not giving up.

A part of me is afraid my care team will give up on me, though, and reading articles that encourage doctors to think about offering hospice care instead of treatment makes me panic. My onc has promised me he'll fight with me on this, and I have no reason to doubt him, but I'm still scared of being told "We think that hospice would be better for you than X or Y treatment."

That's just the beginning of the end and while I accept that there's no cure for Stage IV, I'm not willing to accept the end is anywhere but a long way away from here.

This isn't fair. This isn't fair. Fuck cancer. Fuck this. It's not fair. I have people who need me. I can't give up and I won't give up and hospice is giving up and I can't do that. Let me live. I accept that this disease will kill me, but I'm not ready to go. It's just the one spot, I have a lot of treatments available to me, I'm not going to be in the lower end or middle of the statistics. I can't be.

Fuck cancer.