We left for Barnes at 2:30 am today. I had a brain MRI scheduled for right when they opened and then met with my radiation oncologist. She only has preliminary results when we meet, so she calls me on the way home with final results. We were relieved when she called to say there are no new brain tumors. I haven’t had any new brain tumors since May 2024. This is the longest I have gone without new ones since they first appeared in November 2020.

I will try hard to recall today’s joy as I deal with the side effects of the cancer drugs making this happen. The last 4 days were especially bad. I struggled all day Saturday and through the night with a digestive system that explosively ridded itself of all contents. It was just the dogs and me at home and I struggled. I work hard to maintain a mask of resilience. Behind the scenes, I sometimes clean gross things from the bathroom walls. Let that sit for a moment. It’s as hard for me to write it as for you to read it. I still played the piano for church on Sunday and stayed for a meeting after church. No one there other than Dave and our kids knew what I was managing. I took my “just in case” bag with me into church and scouted out the fastest route to the restrooms. Luckily I made it through. There are many unknowns behind the masks we wear.

Seven years ago today, with Dave gripping my right hand, I heard a nurse practitioner say, “There is no easy way to say this.” I felt myself being pulled down into a black abyss as I heard the words “breast cancer” and “innumerable masses on your liver.” The only thing keeping me in my seat was Dave’s steady hand. I suspected I had breast cancer, the kind you “fight like a girl” and beat, not the incurable stage 4 kind. A CT scan the next day showed that the cancer was also in my bones and my right adrenal gland. The next year it spread to my brain.

I’m not supposed to be alive today. I have a lot of guilt about that. Why am I still here when so many people I have met with metastatic breast cancer are not? You will never ever convince me that God planned for me to get cancer or that God has kept ME alive but not others. I give much credit to my medical team at Barnes Jewish Hospital/Washington University. The rest is pure luck.

I planned a quiet day today. I went to the gym and the grocery store. I bought myself flowers in the colors of the metastatic breast cancer ribbon. I enjoyed a beautiful summer day on the farm with Madi and Milli.

The results of the heart MRI show that my heart is functioning well enough to continue on the same line of treatment. I started taking a beta blocker a few weeks ago and it is helping. My cardiac oncologist said I don’t need to see her for 3 months so that means I only have 1 trip to St Louis next week. On Tuesday I have a brain MRI and meet with my radiation oncologist. The following Tuesday I have treatment again. Time flies.

Dave, Ross, Darrin, and Haley are my reason for fighting, for complying with medical instructions, for enduring all the side effects, for always finding reasons to hope.

I absolutely could not do this without Dave’s support. Way back in 1994 when we promised to love each other in sickness and in health, we didn’t know how much sickness there would be.

Year 8 begins now.

Ross and I left Elliott at 4:30 am. I had a heart MRI with contrast bright and early at Barnes.

The heart MRI is the longest of the MRIs. As I chatted with the nurse accessing my port, I told her my story about having dense breast tissue that hides cancer from mammography – about how I found a lump 9 months after a “clean” mammogram and then found out the cancer was already stage IV – spread to my bones, liver and adrenal gland. It turns out that my nurse also has dense breast tissue. She said her doctor tells her she doesn’t need to do anything else because there is no family history of breast cancer. That’s when I got to tell her that I also do not have a history of breast cancer. She promised me she would call TODAY to schedule an MRI or ultrasound. She said she was going to tell her friends about my story. After the scan she de-accessed my port and gave me a hug and thanked me again.

I need good things to come from my bad story.

Milli is 3 months old and weighs 31 pounds. She is a menace and a princess, all in one.

She hasn’t learned to stay home yet so I’ve had to adapt my routine for hanging clothes on the line.

She sleeps by my head. This is a princess moment.

Seven years ago today I had a diagnostic mammogram and an ultrasound of a palpable lump I found in a breast self exam. Until 7/17/2019 I had hope that I did not have breast cancer.

I watched the screen during the ultrasound and saw a large solid white blob that had tentacles like a splatter of paint. If you know me, you can guess that I had researched what to look for in the ultrasound. My heart dropped.

The ultrasound report said it was a suspicious abnormality and recommended an ultrasound guided core needle biopsy. The diagnostic mammogram report said that my breast was extremely dense which lowers the sensitivity of mammography. It said there was a vague density not evident on prior studies.

I had no idea I would be diagnosed with terminal (stage 4 ) breast cancer one week later.

We left at 4 am for St Louis. I slept the entire way. Lovely. Today is #120. In 2019 I didn’t think this was possible, even in my wildest dreams.

Last week had some especially challenging days. I had another fall and also one extraordinarily chaotic digestive day. Good times.

Madi and Milli keep me company and bring me so much joy. They curl up at my feet when I’m at my desk in my art room. They both love a ride in a vehicle – any time, anyplace. They play hard and nap hard – a pretty decent recipe for a good life.

July is such a hard month for me. On this day in 2019 I found a lump in my right breast. I had a “clear” mammogram 9 months before, so surely this was not a big deal.

It was.

As of 7/24/2026 my career stats for the past 7 years are:

Infusion treatments: 120

Gamma Knife procedure on brain tumors: 3

Brain Radiation (SRS): 5 rounds

Adrenal Gland Radiation: 5 rounds

Shoulder Radiation: 1 round

Spine surgery: 1

LITT to remove a brain tumor: 1

Brain MRIs: 20

Whole Body Bone Scans: 16

Chest/Ab/Pelvic CT Scans: 22

Echocardiograms: 11

Heart MRIs: 10

Breast MRI: 1

Complete Spinal MRI: 1

Thoracentesis (to drain fluid from my lungs): 2

Hospitalizations: 3

July is a grueling medical schedule: 7/14 treatment 120, 7/23 heart MRI, 7/28 brain MRI and appt with radiation oncologist, 7/30 appt with cardiac oncologist, 8/4 treatment 121. I am not fine.

Today is treatment 119. We left the farm at 4 am. I only have treatment today so hopefully we will be on the way home by 11 am. I’ve had more good days recently and I appreciate that immensely. Milli is 11 weeks old today. She is very spunky and has an outgoing personality. She is super smart and is learning things quickly, most of them good! She and Madi are best buddies already.

In July I have extra scans and appointments. That means I will have 5 trips to St Louis in 4 weeks. July is also an emotionally painful time for me as the events of July 2019 swirl through my mind. I hope the glorious busyness of a new puppy will help.

DOB April 7, 2026

8 1/2 weeks old

17 pounds

Spunky

I’m in my “meh” scan era – not great but also not horrible. That’s pretty good for almost 7 years with stage 4 cancer. Today was treatment 118 and I will go back in 3 weeks for number 119 while I continue to take oral chemotherapy pills morning and night. I’ll make 4 trips to Barnes in July for some extra scans.

The window washing crew was at Siteman Cancer Center today. I am so thankful I didn’t have to earn a living doing that!