Before I got cancer, I didn’t know much about cancer. I was in a state of blissful ignorance. None of my close friends or family members have ever had cancer and because of this, most of my images and ideas about cancer have come from TV or filtered through people who knew people with cancer. TV was really the big winner in shaping my cancer ideas, though.
The first thing that was completely different from my TV-formed cancer knowledge was how I was diagnosed.

Getting the diagnosis didn’t happen in one emotional moment. It took days as we awaited results from my biopsy, and even when I got the call from my primary care doctor, I didn’t know how far advanced it was. All I knew was that the large tumor in my breast was indeed cancer and that it was aggressive (I remember my primary care doctor using the term “wild one” to describe it). When she told me I had cancer, I was already pretty sure I had it, so there were no breakdowns and sobbing fits. No tears. Just rational talk about next steps.
Of course, when I called my peeps to tell them the news, the tears came.
After I got diagnosed, I met with an oncology team that laid out a treatment plan. I chose Mass General Hospital for my care and on my first visit with my beautiful and brilliant oncologist, I got the lowdown: 12 weeks of chemo followed by a month off; a mastectomy with removal of axillary lymph nodes followed by another month off; 16 weeks of chemo; aaaaaaand, to top it off, 30 treatments of radiation.
Since, as I mentioned earlier, I knew nothing about cancer and cancer treatments, I figured this was the norm. And since I knew nothing about what any of these procedures entailed, I wasn’t scared.
Once I had a treatment plan in place, I started doing my own research about what this all meant. That’s when I started getting the “Oh shit” feeling that creeps up when I read too much or am having a sad day. The more I learned about cancer, the scarier it got.
When my oncologist laid out the treatment plan, it seemed so simple. I thought, “Yep, just take a bunch of drugs, get a breast removed, a little radiation, and I’ll be good to go!” But it turns out that all these steps can have major side effects; some are temporary, some last for years, and some are permanent. And there’s no guarantee the cancer will be eradicated.
“Chemo brain” and its accompanying forgetfulness and concentration difficulties can turn into lifelong cognitive damage. Just last week I got my first tingle of neuropathy in my fingers. This means that the toxic chemotherapy is damaging my nerves, and as the weeks go on, it will probably get worse. If it gets bad enough, the doctor will have to alter the chemo course by lowering the dosage or taking a week off.
Since my mastectomy includes major lymph node removal, I’ll always be at risk for lymphedema, a chronic swelling of the arm or breast area. That just plain sucks.
And then there’s the cancer itself. I had a ton of scans at MGH to see if the cancer had metastasized, or invaded other parts of my body. According to the scans, it hasn’t. When I found out that news, I was over the moon. Ecstatic. But then I learned that cancer cells can be quite crafty, lurking in other parts of the body undetectable by our diagnostic methods which means that even though I have Stage IIIA breast cancer, there could be cancer elsewhere and it just wasn’t developed enough to be seen.
I guess the biggest thing I’ve learned is cancer is kind of a crapshoot. I can take the best care of my body possible and treat it with the best treatments available, but the cancer could pop up somewhere else down the road.
Most days I’m OK with dealing with so much uncertainty. But there are days when I get caught up in a vortex of fear about the future. How much will my surgery hurt? How bad will the second round of chemo be? Will I be fatigued to the point of not being able to enjoy life? And the biggest uncertainty that makes me the saddest: how long will I get to live and enjoy my babies?
Lately, I’ve been reluctant to read much of anything about cancer, be it books or blogs. I am a firm believer in self-advocacy and knowing all about options, but at a certain point, the more I know, the worse I feel. Luckily, knowing my limits has led to many good days that look a lot like this (an image you don’t often see on TV cancer dramas):
you rock
Thanks… and YOU ROCK!
Love the art work! You always amaze me Megan! You are such a strong woman! ❤
Thank you, Agnes!
you’re a hoot!
Thanks!
Keep those most days in the forefront…..love the cartoons..
Those cartoons wouldn’t be what they are without you 🙂
Once again I return to the Michael J Fox quote – when you get a diagnosis don’t play to the end result – take it day by day. And remember – there are so many wonderful treatment options to address the side effects – like body work for the lympedema. Your body is also sooooo smart and if you are experiencing some neuropathy, your body may be saying whoa slow down, I need a break. So stay in the most days zone — when your monkey mind begins to roam as it most certainly will – just know those are only thoughts. Allow yourself to experience it all knowing that in life nothing is certain. A great book to read about abiding in the uncertainty – Pema Chodron – The Places That Scare You. Much love Meg
Mary, you always have the wisest things to say. Monkey mind… so true. Just for today I’m OK, and trying to keep that in the forefront. I will definitely check out that book. Thank you, Mary.
Megan, you’re so cool and special. I wish I met you earlier in life! Thanks for your willingness to express what you’re going through so we can all participate in this wild ride along your side… as best we can…
You are also so cool and special… so glad you love the blog. If I have you in my fanclub I must be doing something right.
Your postive attitude is inspiring, Megan: the more I read from you, the more impressed I am. You are one tough cookie 🙂
Hey, thanks! That’s really nice of you to say.
Ohmygod, I LOVE your blog! I love the art work. I laughed, I cried. Oh ya, I love you too. ❤
Awwww, shucks. That means a lot. I am really glad you love it.
Great blog, Megan. Our experiences do connect us. Remember, humor is great medicine, so don’t lose yours! I am thinking of you.
Thank you, Sonia! Hope you’re doing well, and hope to see you one of these Mondays 🙂
you are amazing – keep up the positve energy you have this it doesnt have you!!
kathleen
Thanks, Kathleen!
Your artwork is great! I had no idea. Megan I’m so glad you’re sharing this with all of us and I’m so grateful to be included. I’m also happy that “most days” are as you’ve depicted 🙂
Ha! Thanks, Laurie. I got a stylus for the iPad and it opened up a whole new world.
Hi Meg – I am Anna Baker’s mother. I’m sure Anna has told you that her father has been dealing with cancer for 10 years now. It is quite a roller coaster and I fully understand how you have good days and bad and that sometimes, you just need to bury your head in the sand and go on with your life. That is a very healthy attitude. I love your blog and think you are a courageous woman. I also wanted you to know (if you don’t already) that Cancer Care has great support services. They offer support groups for both cancer patients and for care givers. They also offer one to one therapy, all at no cost to you. I hope this is helpful.
Thanks for the tips, Lynn! Anna has shared what your husband has been going through, and his story is definitely an inspiration to me. Also, I just want to say that you raised an awesome daughter. Anna is pretty amazing and no doubt you’re a big reason why. Hope to meet you some day! Take care and best wishes.
you are awesome
Thanks, Lisa 🙂
what a great blog entry, Megan! Your honesty, humor, and strength (and yellow crayon) radiate! Hoping you are doing well (and that you’re healthy enough for treatment today!)
Thanks, Paul!
you’re brilliant 🙂
Thanks, Dave!
Sucks that I’m getting to know you and you family this way, however, what a pleasure it is. Emma is in class with Zevi. You are an inspiration. Can’t imagine mustering up the strength to do what you do. Your “new normal” is such a positive way to get by. please know you have our prayers, love, and well wishes for the duration.
Thanks, Kirsten! I’m glad you found the blog and like it. Looking forward to seeing you soon 🙂