October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and this year, I want to share something deeply personal. ❤️?

I have an incurable form of breast cancer called hormone receptor-positive metastatic (stage 4) breast cancer.

About two years ago, I found another lump in my breast, despite having had a double mastectomy nine years earlier from stage 0 breast cancer. I will never forget reading my biopsy report on MyChart at my son’s basketball game and learning I had stage 1 invasive breast cancer. I was immediately overwhelmed, knowing it likely meant radiation and 5-10 years of anti-estrogen medication.

I began the scary journey of 20 rounds of radiation. Halfway through, doctors discovered a surprise: a few masses in my lungs. Once again, I will never forget standing on the grassy sidelines watching the same son play his very first ever tennis match when my oncologist called to tell me the news: I had an incurable form of breast cancer and an uncertain future.

What a day that was. 
Shock. Sadness. Confusion. Fear.

How could someone who works out every day and eats healthy have stage 4 cancer? How could cancer even come back after I had a double mastectomy? And how is it that we still don’t have a cure? 

The months that followed were dark. I cried at the drop of a hat and struggled to process what my diagnosis meant. I felt scared and alone and overwhelmed. Eventually, I began working with a mind-body therapist who specializes in helping people navigate serious diagnoses. Honestly, I don’t know how I would have found my way out of that frightening headspace without her.

She helped me shift from fear and sadness to gratitude, lightness, and hope. She taught me to focus on the here and now, give myself grace, and speak to myself as I would a friend. We would never say all the negative things running through our heads to someone we love. We would offer compassion, encouragement, and support. So why shouldn’t we give ourselves that same kindness?

One of my saving graces was an incredible Mediterranean adventure with my mom last summer. It reminded me of something important: I am still me, even though my life has taken a 180-degree turn.

I still love traveling, spending time with my family and friends, playing games, taking walks, and working out at the gym.

Have things changed? Absolutely.

I eat low carb (bye bye to my favorite bready foods) and barely imbibe unless it’s a special occasion ?. I take a daily oral chemo pill, an estrogen blocker, and a monthly ovarian suppression shot. Hello, instant menopause! ? The side effects have been a lot to navigate. Hair loss, muscle loss, eyesight changes, skin changes and elasticity. Then there’s the brain fog, stomach issues, weight gain, hot flashes, sleep problems, muscle tension, internal scar tissue from surgeries and radiation, and occasional lymphedema flare-ups.

It’s a lot, but overall, I’m doing well! Many of these side effects have become my new norm, and I’ve learned to adapt and keep enjoying the things that make me happy.

Do I like talking about cancer? No, I hate it. Does it still make me want to cry sometimes? Yes. Do I want to be treated differently, like a fragile cancer patient? Hell no!

I’m still the same person. I want to laugh, have fun, talk about everyday things, and enjoy normal conversations. I don’t want cancer to be the first thing people think of when they think of me.??

One topic that can be particularly hard to hear about is how so many women my age are on hormone replacement therapy, or HRT, and how it’s changed their lives and helped their brain fog, hair growth, and overall well-being. I sometimes want to scream or cry. But I know that if I didn’t have HR+ breast cancer, I would probably be reaping the benefits of HRT, too. It’s just one of the unexpected emotional challenges of this disease.

So why am I sharing all of this now, with the world (or at least my Facebook friends)?

Because it’s time to bring more awareness to metastatic breast cancer. Because women’s health research deserves attention, investment, and funding. Because I want better treatments and, ultimately, a cure.

And because I want to be here for all the things I once took for granted: watching my boys graduate from high school and college, seeing them get married, and hopefully becoming a grandmother someday.

When you’re told you have cancer that cannot be cured, your perspective changes. You think about your future, your family, and all the moments you desperately want to be around for.

So, if you see me planning another vacation or making the most of an opportunity, just know I’m embracing the YOLO mentality a little more these days! I’ve learned not to put off the things that make me happy. I want to make memories, spend time with the people I love, and live fully in the here and now.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading and I have two requests:

1. If you pray, please include me in your prayers for a long, healthy life. I pray for remission everyday. If prayer isn’t your thing, I’ll gladly accept positive thoughts and good vibes, too!

2. If you believe in the importance of finding a cure for metastatic breast cancer, please consider donating to my fundraiser. The money raised will specifically support metastatic breast cancer research, helping advance treatments and bring us closer to a cure. Every contribution, no matter the amount, makes a difference. (Please make sure it’s under my name. Thank you!)

Breast cancer awareness is important. But for those of us living with metastatic breast cancer, awareness alone isn’t enough. We need research. We need better treatments. We need more funding. And we need a cure.

Thank you for your love, your support, and for helping me spread the word. ❤️?