🎶 Do you have the time, to listen to me whine 🎶

As I was whooshed into the MRI machine, Green Day’s 1994 hit “Basket Case” came blaring through the headphones and I was simultaneously thrilled and panicked. How does one stay MRI-level still whilst having an absolute classic jam pumped into their skull?

Ah right. The cancer can steady you. It does make it a little less easy to rock out.

I started off my 40s optimistically if not smugly. Aging isn’t that bad! I’m healthy and fit, I’m gonna make this look so good! Carrie Bradshaw said your 40s are the best (basically).

Well, ya got me again, Hollywood.

Narrator: Her 40s, in fact, we not looking so good.

My 30s had been easy. After getting over pregnancy challenges and surviving the pandemic, there really wasn’t much that could phase me. I shed the (way too much) weight I gained with Alex and went past the shape I’d been in to reach the best shape of my life. The summer after I turned 41 the wheels started to come off.

While heading out on a six-mile run I slipped slightly then proceeded to continue on my way for the entire route. A few days later the pain started. Several (expensive) visits to a specialist, an MRI revealing a tear in my left hip, and a cortisone injection later and I was more or less on the mend.

Next up was what I assume is/was a tear in my right shoulder. No clue how — too much crap in my purse? Picking up an almost-five-year-old boy too much? Lifting too much in the gym? — and I wasn’t about to go through the time and cost-intensive process of going to the specialist again so I amended my workout routine and carried Keri’ed on.

The hiccups kept coming. I had my period for a full month and was convinced I was starting perimenopause. (I wasn’t.)

Then in November, while at my desk working, I scratched the top of my right breast and felt a lump. Hm. That’s strange. I remember thinking at the time. Justin had just arrived home so I called him over from the doorway to feel it. He agreed it was weird but we both thought it felt like a cyst. Not fixed and maybe a bit soft? Squishy? I promised I would call my doctor to confirm it wasn’t anything to worry about. I think because of the way I found it — not during my monthly self-checks where I actively look for lumps — my brain just couldn’t compute that this may in fact be bad.

My doctor couldn’t get me in until December 11th so I waited patiently, not telling anyone or thinking much about it.

During the exam with my OBGYN he found another lump and ordered a diagnostic mammogram to see what was going on. Still, I remained naive to what was happening and carried merrily along my way.

The diagnostic mammogram led to the discovery of an inflamed lymph node (but like, no big deal right because I have kids and allergies and … ?!) and an order for all three spots to be biopsied.

Around this time I was noticing pregnancy-level fatigue setting in after dinner. After being in motion all day and finally coming to a stop at the table, I couldn’t get back up. I evaluated all the vitamins I was taking each night after dinner and chalked it up to the impact of my body processing them. I stopped taking all of them and moved my allergy pill (which can cause drowsiness) to immediately before bedtime. How was I this naive??!!

It wasn’t until the radiologist performing the biopsies looked at me and said “whatever this is we’ll figure it out — it’s good you caught it early. Good luck,” that the realization that normal breast tissue — or any tissue — doesn’t just clump up and this may in fact be quite bad began to set it. It had been there in the back of my mind, but I’d dismissed the concerns easily with a million different distractions.

I closed 2024 with ice packs inside my sports bra and worry hanging over my head.

January 2nd I had answers. Still deep in denial and perhaps attempting to positive-think my way out of it, I decided not to wait for Justin when the test results hit my inbox. It’s fine, I don’t need support to read that there’s nothing wrong! I remember thinking to myself.

Narrator: But there was something wrong. And she did need support.

Still so convinced that this could not possibly be cancer I couldn’t make sense of the words. A quick copy+paste of the summary into chat GPT and I slammed my laptop shut. Sobs erupted from the bottom of my stomach as hot tears washed over my face. I ran into the bathroom where Justin was showering and he knew without seeing me or speaking. He turned the water off and sat next to me, shampoo still in his hair, holding me while my body shook.

That initial gut punch rocks your world in a way I’d never, ever experienced. There is little we actually have control over in life but we can be tricked into believing our bodies are part of that. I drink an insane amount of water, I run four to six miles three to five times a week and lift weights when I can, I have air purifiers around the house, practice healthy habits and mindfulness, eat healthy-ish (but could definitely do better) and stay consistent with regular check-ups with the dentist, doctor and dermatologist.  

Finding out this was happening right under my literal nose — that cancer was growing and spreading through my cells while I was moving through life with a smile on my face, thinking I was healthy and living a normal life — was the hardest pill to swallow. Being so wrong about something you thought you knew so well. I think it might be the same feeling as if you found out your partner was actually a spy who created a fake life to get close to you and gain access to state information from your high-level government position. Such a detailed fake existence that over years of getting close to you and feeding secrets into their organization they eventually fell in love with you, married you, and had children with you. OK maybe not exactly like that, but I did just watch Black Doves …

I have felt a lot — a LOT — of emotions through this, but I’ve not once thought “why me?” That’s not some weird brag, it’s just honest. I think I’ve always felt like cancer was inevitable? It seems like it is everywhere and, while I do a lot of things to prevent it like loading up on sunscreen and not smoking, there are daily reports about some new habit, hobby, or household item I have that — spolier — causes cancer! So fun!

There is a lot up i the air at the moment, but coming together more and more each day with every new scan, test and consult.

I’m trying to focus on right now, living in this moment and not the what ifs and potential outcomes. To be present for my children rather than envisioning what their life would look like without me. I know what I am capable of. I am a fighter. Some would call me scrappy. I am strong and will do whatever it takes to survive because I am not done living. In some ways I've barely started. I need to see my children grow up and there is nothing I won’t do to get there. I’ll gladly give up my breasts, my ovaries, my hair and eyebrows and whatever else it takes to raise a glass of sparkling water in honor of each of my adult children at whatever celebratory events or parties may lie ahead on their journeys.

Things have simultaneously picked up and slowed down in our house. I’m putting aside the chores (thanks to my parents for stepping in and taking a lot of that off Justin and I) and taking more time to play, read, snuggle and just be with the kids. Our house has also been fully mobilized to get ahead of projects now so we can cruise for the next year. My treatment plan includes — in no particular order — months of chemo, three surgeries, radiation, immunotherapy, and long-term medications. The next few weeks are packed with CTs, MRIs, blood tests and a port placement surgery.

I've never been more committed, determined or resolute to fight for anything. I can and will take on whatever pain and suffering may come in order to take down this monster growing inside my skin.

And I'll whine about it to you along the way.

My comic relief team. And also, what I'm fighting for.