Keeping My Eyes Above the Waves

It’s been a crazy past two months. Steve had his surgery in late November and did great. It was really nice having him home for the holidays. I spent the month of December focusing a lot on the kids. Stephen turned 5 and we had a big party for him. Followed it with tons of Christmas activities and prepping. We had a superbly blessed Christmas. I was in awe over the twinkle in each of my children’s eyes for the magic the time of year brings. Everything was made good again. My marriage and motherhood seemed stronger than it has been in years. 

January brings up many emotions for me. Not only was Stephen scheduled for surgery but I had my first mammogram and breast ultrasound in January- my biopsy, my diagnosis; it’s also the birthday of a daughter who is no longerwith me, and her “angelversary”, along with memories of her funeral and burial . . . oh,  and it’s mine and Steve’s birthday. That’s a whole lotta crap to deal with in one month.

Stephen’s surgery went great. He was hospitalized for a couple days and discharged home. He healed up quick and has been doing great after his liquid-only diet. He is now on soft foods now and can have solids again in a month. We have been very busy with genetic appointments and follow up appointments with him. He has many tests and more appointments in the spring.

I had my scans at the beginning of the month as well. Everything was stable- no regression and no progression. I do have some gallstones, which could be drug induced, and may need my gallbladder out if I have another attack. The compression fracture in my back is possibly pinching a nerve down to my foot and makes it hard to walk. I am loading up on more medication to help with that. Since putting me back on chemo wouldn’t really do much of anything, I am still able to continue my break from chemo- it’s been one year and I love it. I go every couple weeks for my maintenance infusions, which help keeps my cancer at bay. I still deal with the perfuse swelling of my optic nerve as well and will follow up with that doc soon. I am going to be getting another port and have been working with the dermatologist to help rid my body of any staph that may have been lingering after my repeated infections. I feel okay though. I definitely am still not how I used to be, but, I am slowing accepting the fact that I won’t ever be that go-get-it person again.

It’s been 2 years since I was diagnosed. The average survival rate for a woman my age with advanced breast cancer is 18-24 months, and a less than 15% chance of surviving 5 years. I am officially on borrowed time. I am happy to be around another year and yet absolutely scared shitless to see what the next year may bring.

I’ve been asked before if I am “over” different things. Am I “over” the death of my daughter, “over my diagnosis”, am I moving on from grief and cancer? Honestly, no, I am not over or moving on from anything. I am living through it. I have been living through it since she died and since I was diagnosed. There’s no other way. 11 other months out of the year I am fine. I can do okay; my grief isn’t raw, it doesn’t consume me, but it still lives within me. And when January comes, I cannot help but suffer through those moments all over again. January makes me question so much. I cannot understand why I was chosen to walk this path.

It comes down to one thing: trust. Do I trust in God enough to know that all things will work out for the good? Can I trust that I don’t have to worry, just pray? I won’t lie, when the ocean’s rise, it’s hard for me to keep my eyes above the waves and focus on Christ. But the minute I take my eyes off of Him, I sink. I try though, I try so hard. I get so shaken, and I feel so worn. I try to make sense of it all. There has to be a reason, after all. At least that’s what everyone always tells me. There’s a reason it happened, and only the Lord knows; but I want to know why. I can hear Him telling me to just trust and not rely on my understanding; to stop trying to figure out the chaos. He reminds me I have strong roots, the waves and wind won’t break me. Sometimes I hear loud and clear, and it’s a great feeling, but sometimes I can’t help but doubt the plans. And you wouldn’t know what that’s like unless you have walked in my shoes and have experienced these kinds of tragedies. You have no idea how I pray for peace so that my faith doesn’t have to suffer or have an ounce of doubt. It’s so damned hard some days . . .

I turn 31 today. I’m here another year. I am extremely thankful to be here still. My next year I plan on fixing my eyes on my relationship with Christ, loving on my hubby, spoiling my babies and crossing some things from my mommy bucketlist. I won't get over anything, I'll continue working through it.

Belle Vernon Mom and Breast Cancer Survivor Recognized with National Award

Belle Vernon Mom and Breast Cancer Survivor Recognized with National Award 

Kate Crawford is one of eight women named as a 2014 Pink Power Mom

ATLANTA, (Oct.1, 2014) – The Kids II Foundation’s Pink Power Mom network has named

Kate Crawford as a 2014 Pink Power Mom. Joining seven other moms and breast cancer

survivors from the United States and Canada, Crawford was selected for persevering through her

battle with breast cancer and for her efforts to help others in their fights. All eight Pink Power

Mom honorees have worked to positively impact their local communities by using their breast

cancer fight as a catalyst to make a difference.

Crawford lost her first daughter when she was only three days old. This prompted her to start a

non-profit to help grieving parents. Following that heartache, she had twins (now five) and a son

(now four).  In 2013, Crawford was diagnosed with breast cancer and was only given a 30

percent chance of survival. Since then, she has poured her energy into raising funds for her

cancer center, fighting her disease and completing her “mommy bucket list.” Her blog, The

Chronicles of Cancer, is read and respected in the worldwide cancer community.

“Kate was selected because of her insight and immediate outreach to address a community need,

while just beginning her own journey with breast cancer,” said Heidi Floyd, Pink Power Mom

Executive Director. “The network’s pay-it-forward award will empower Kate to continue her

wonderful mission.”

The Pink Power Mom award includes a $5000 donation to the winner’s charity of choice. Kate’s

donation will benefit the Women’s Cancer Research Center at Magee-Womens Research

Institute and the University of Pittsburgh Cancer Institute. The Women’s Cancer Research

Program is dedicated to reducing the incidence and death from women’s cancers across the

world. This mission is achieved through the development and fostering of vibrant basic,

translational and clinical research aimed at translating novel discoveries into improved patient

care.

"I am honored to be chosen as part of an elite group of women dedicated to breast cancer

research and support. I may have cancer, but it will never stop me from feverishly working on

raising funds to find a cure,” Kate Crawford said.

Crawford will be honored with all eight of the 2014 Pink Power Moms during the Pink &

Powerful weekend celebration in Atlanta, Ga., hosted by Kids II, in February of 2015.

Nominations to join the Pink Power Mom network begin on Mother’s Day every year. Selected

moms are announced every October, during Breast Cancer Awareness month. For more

information, visit pinkpowermom.org or KidsII.com

About the Kids II Foundation

The Kids II Foundation was established by Kids II in 2006 to advance the company’s

commitment and passion to making a difference in the communities in which employees work

and live.  Through partnerships with charitable organizations, volunteer efforts and donating toys

to children in need, the Kids II Foundation is able to make a profound and lasting positive impact

in the lives of children and their families.  The Kids II Foundation donates over a quarter of a

million dollars annually to charities worldwide, including Pink Power Mom – a non-profit

created by the Foundation to make a global change in the cancer community by rewarding moms

and breast cancer survivors making a difference.

About Kids II, Inc.

Kids II has a 40-year history of developing industry-changing innovations for families across the

globe and has quickly becoming a world-leading baby and infant product company. The brand

portfolio strength runs deep with seven brands under the Kids II umbrella: Bright StartsTM,

IngenuityTM, Comfort & HarmonyTM, DisneyTMBaby EinsteinTM, OballTM and TaggiesTM. Through

its brands, Kids II is a powerhouse of creativity, diversity and innovation, uniquely matching the

individual needs of every parent and baby. Headquartered in Atlanta, Kids II spans globally with

13 global offices in six continents serving customers in more than 72 countries.

Learn more about Kids II, like our Facebook page, or connect with us on LinkedIn.

###

Rostraver mom continues to set goals despite battle with cancer

Jim Ference | Trib Total Media

Kate Crawford gets a hug from her kids Stephen 4, Lily 6, and Grace 6, on Tuesday, October 14, 2014 as they look over pictures of a kick ball tournament that was held on her behalf.

By: Chris Buckley
Wednesday, Oct. 15, 2014, 12:56 a.m.

 

Kate Crawford's bucket list is filled with hopes and dreams, things she wants to accomplish in the time she has left with her family.

But her greatest dream is to find a cure for the cancer that has grown in her.

The Rostraver woman created her bucket list after being diagnosed last year with stage IV breast cancer.

“The bucket list is not necessarily for me,” Crawford said. “That's why I dubbed it the ‘Mommy Bucket List.'”

She and her husband, Stephen, have twin daughters, Grace and Lily, 6, and a son, Stephen, 4.

Last October, Crawford operated a lemonade stand at her home, raising $5,000 for the Magee-Womens Research Institute and Foundation and the UPMC CancerCenter.

“The little things most parents wouldn't think of are very important to me, like having a lemonade stand or seeing a child get an A on a test,” Crawford said.

“The things most people take for granted are my hopes and dreams.”

This year, her fundraising goal for the lemonade stand was $10,000.

The Kids II Foundation recently named Crawford a Pink Power Mom, one of eight women worldwide recognized for their efforts in breast cancer outreach and fundraising.

The award carries a $5,000 donation to the breast cancer association of Crawford's choice.

In February, Crawford will travel to Atlanta for the Kids II Foundation gala fundraiser.

“I'm looking forward to the gala and looking forward to being a mentor and growing with them,” Crawford said.

CRUSADE CONTINUES

Crawford hosted two other fundraisers this month.

On Oct. 3, a Paint and Sip event at Off the Wall Arts in Charleroi generated more than $2,500.

Last weekend, she sponsored a kickball tournament that raised nearly $2,000.

Ten teams played in the double-elimination tournament at the John DiVirgilio Sports Complex in Rostraver.

Township officials donated use of the field, and the Belle Vernon Youth Soccer Association donated use of the concession stand, including food.

By month's end, her efforts will have generated $25,000.

Diagnosed in January 2013, Crawford learned the severity of her cancer the following month.

Statistically, the median survival rate for stage IV breast cancer is two to three years, Crawford said.

“There is no cure for breast cancer, so helping to aid those efforts literally means saving my own life,” Crawford said.

Crawford has persevered despite many obstacles. She underwent active chemotherapy last year, but the doctors gave her a break in that treatment after her condition stabilized.

She now receives targeted chemotherapy every three weeks.

“It just keeps my cancer at bay,” Crawford said.

As the cancer spread to her spine and pelvis, Crawford had problems walking. So she undewent daily radiation therapy for two weeks. Radiation helps alleviate some pain by shrinking tumors, especially in her pelvis.

“Now I go weekly for physical therapy,” Crawford said. “Since starting physical therapy, I've been feeling great.”

Hair loss is often a side effect of chemotherapy.

Her hair has grown back, but “I would rather be told I have no cancer,” Crawford said.

POSITIVE OUTLOOK

“My kids and my husband are the ones who keep me going,” Crawford said.

The bucket list provides incentives.

“Every month, we work toward checking it off,” Crawford said. “I'm looking forward to being a (Pink Power) Mom and doing what I have to do to find a cure.”

The award solidifies Crawford's role as an inspiration to others.

“It makes me blush,” Crawford said. “I want to inspire people with my story. I want them to know that no matter how hard things get it will be OK,” Crawford said.

THE LIST REMAINS

In January, Crawford's son will undergo palate reconstruction involving the roof of his mouth. That will be followed by therapy to reteach him how to speak.

“No matter what happens, I know everything is going be OK,” Crawford said.

Some bucket list items were simple, others sentimental. She hoped to see her children attend a prom, which happened last year with the help of Belle Vernon Area School District officials. Some items are dreams, such as taking her family to New York for an extravagant vacation – or curing cancer.

“When I wrote up the bucket list, the whole Mommy Bucket List, I knew half of it was unattainable,” Crawford said. “They are dreams, but right now dreaming is pretty awesome to me.

“Even if I can't cure cancer in my lifetime, maybe my kids will look at that list and say, ‘This is something Mommy wanted' and complete them.”

Chris Buckley is a staff writer for Trib Total Media. He can be reached at 724-684-2642 orcbuckley@tribweb.com.

Read more:http://triblive.com/neighborhoods/yourmonvalley/yourmonvalleymore/6961840-74/crawford-cancer-list#ixzz3HjoCUhp6 
Follow us: @triblive on Twitter | triblive on Facebook

The Cancer Isn’t Always Greener on the Other Side

After the meeting with the breast surgeon. I was feeling depleted. I never researched about women who present with metastatic breast cancer having a bi-lateral mastectomy. I guess naïve me just assumed that’s how the journey went. A vast majority of women with breast cancer receive some type of surgery, even ones who have a complete response to chemotherapy will have mastectomies. I didn’t have any reason to assume I was different. Until that meeting.

I don’t think the breast surgeon took in to account my mental well-being. I never was asked what I want. She saw studies, she saw numbers, but I don’t know that she saw me. She told me how she thought I would feel, not knowing that it wasn’t really my outlook. I had my mind made up since my diagnosis that this would happen. I never questioned it. Any time I had asked my oncologist about having the mastectomy, he never led me to believe otherwise. If I had been told at the beginning how controversial the surgery was, and that it just wasn’t for me, I would have never been so dead set on having it done. My oncologist told me once that he felt that I would have a better overall outcome as a result of having the surgery so I had set it as a goal. If I reached that goal, it meant I was essentially doing better. There was this obvious tension between my two doctors. They didn’t agree, and my breast surgeon didn’t try to sugarcoat any of that. She blatantly disliked his opinion and there was no room for compromise. Again, what she wasn’t understanding was that if having my breasts removed meant that I had a miniscule chance of living even a day longer, I was willing to do it. She just didn’t hear it, though. She just didn’t seem to get it.

 She had me sent for two additional tests, a breast MRI and a mammogram. She called me the day after and told me I still had a very small spot (6mm) of cancer in my right breast. The she said “You know, I read your blog”. I wasn’t quite sure what to think of that. Maybe she read of my pleas? Maybe she understood a patient’s perspective better after reading it? That didn’t appear to be the case. I never once heard “I understand where you are coming from. I understand why you want this done.” She only defended her actions, maintained her research and said she called my oncologist about my blog. I suddenly felt violated. As if my Mom had just read my diary and told my Dad on me. I was not pleased.

There is a physical aspect of cancer and a mental aspect of cancer. You can’t be in the profession of dealing with cancer patients and be narrow-minded. There isn’t only black and white. There’s a lot of grey. Emotions play a huge role in the life of a cancer patient. Only 30% of breast cancer patients are metastatic which puts them in to a completely different category than other staged patients. The cancer has already spread and we will die as a result of it, it is just a matter of when. Our lives revolve around trying to stay alive. It’s mental. Most patients that doctors deal with are just looking to get through their diagnosis; do what they have to do to get it over with and move on. We cannot. We will never move on. Cancer is intricately woven in to our daily lives for the rest of whatever time we have left. Do you think that because I already know my cancer has spread that this makes things easier or better for me? That the decisions I make should be effortlessly assured? Absolutely not. In fact, it makes every single choice ten-thousand times tougher. I know the cancer isn’t always greener on the other side. I know that the other side is physical pain and disfigurement. BUT, I would rather have a peace of mind; knowing that a secondary breast cancer will never occur in my breasts. I’ll take the pain over chemo and radiation any day of the week. Being on this side of cancer: the bad side, the “oh shit” side, the inescapably horrendous side of cancer, the side you think of twenty-four hours of every day, unequivocally sucks. Honestly, anything looks better than the emotional tolls that havoc my mind.

The whole saga put me in a pretty deep depression. I felt dismissed. I felt isolated. I felt alone. It was taking a toll on my family, too. One night my five year old cried the whole night over anything and everything. She begged me to not put her to bed, she wanted to sleep with me. When I told her no, she cried hysterically. I finally asked her why she was so upset about this and that’s when my heart broke in two.

“I never got to see you when I was in school. Now I’m outta school and you’re always at the doctor because of your cancer!”

I just want to live longer. This girl, she can’t live without me. She needs me. All my kids do. My son, he needs me to be there. They need my guidance, they need my discipline and most importantly, they need my love. If I have to trade in my breasts to do that . . . then so be it.




I met with my Oncologist last Thursday and reported that my liver and bone mets are still stable. That’s about all I can ask for: stability. I expressed my concerns over the consultation with the breast surgeon and I told him “I am not trying to be cured, I am just trying to live as long as I can”. To which he replied, “Well, I am trying to cure you, and if you want to have surgery, then why not?” He never has me convinced of what he knows and that is that there really isn’t any upstanding evidence to prove that a bi-lateral mastectomy on a metastatic patient will “make things worse” or not do anything at all. That fact remains that no one, no doctor in the universe, knows if the surgery will improve my overall prognosis because there isn’t enough supported research studies. He agreed that if I am at a higher risk of having a secondary breast cancer, then my breasts need removed. I finally heard “I understand where you and coming from. I understand why you want this done.” A giant sigh of relief hit me and a smile swept over my face.

The consensus is this: If this breast surgeon doesn’t want to do this surgery, then we search for one until we find one that will. Simple as that.

It’s My Body and I’ll Hack Off My Boobs if I Want To

Having metastatic breast cancer . . . presented at initial diagnosis . . .  at 30 . . . with a genetic mutation . . . is a few things:

1.    Rare.

2.    Unique.

3.   Difficult.

4.     Sucky.

Rare: to be diagnosed with breast cancer under 40 accounts for only 7% of the population with breast cancer. Unique: About 6-10% of patients are Stage IV (Metastatic) at their initial diagnosis. Difficult: It can difficult to treat and manage metastatic disease and the median survival rate is 2-4 years and even lower for women under 40. Sucky: I am this huge ball of rarities that no one really seems to know what to do with. I don’t fit in to the “norm” metastatic breast cancer group, young cancer group or breast cancer group. It is very isolating and frustrating.

After I met with the breast surgeon on Thursday I felt defeated and worn. I have been in this journey for 18 months. I am coming upon the average survival rate ranges for women my age. It has left me feel very anxious most days. I have prepared myself for 18 months to have a double mastectomy. Ever since the primary tumors in both of my breasts no longer showed up on the CT scans I was told by my oncologist that after a few stable (no new lesions/progression) scans that I could have a double mastectomy.

See, here’s where the gleaming bag of rarities comes in. Since I was initially diagnosed Stage IV, I was never offered a double mastectomy to begin with because I needed to start chemotherapy right away. We needed to reduce and try to stop the progression of my cancer. Simply removing my breasts would not work. The other 90-94% of breast cancer patients who are Stage IV, more than likely already had some type of surgery. They had been treated for breast cancer prior to their Stage IV diagnosis. It was hard to “fit in” with them. Not having gone through that part of breast cancer made me feel as if I was the new kid with glasses in a 3rd grade class. I looked at the double mastectomy as a goal I worked towards. Fun goal, huh? In my mind, reaching this goal meant that I was doing well.

“Why?” seemed to be the question of the day with my breast surgeon. Why give a woman whose disease has already spread a double mastectomy? She was very against me having a double mastectomy. She in no way agreed with my oncologist, even laughing at the research he quoted to me. She was very thorough and explained her own research stating that in another country there was a study conducted with women with metastatic breast cancer. The trial had some women receive a bilateral mastectomy and women who did not and they followed their progress for about 2 years. The research claimed to have shown absolutely no benefit to having surgery. She told me the surgery would not benefit my quality of life. All I heard from that was “You are going to die anyway, so what’s the point”. I was not worth the surgery. She explained the risks involved in the extensive surgery trying to almost scare me out of it.

Besides a couple of the very selfish reasons I listed above, I also have some very reasonable rational. When you are diagnosed with Li-Fraumeni Syndrome it is suggested that a woman with breast cancer not only has the breast with cancer removed but that she also has the other “healthy” breast removed. The instance of having a cancer return or developing a secondary cancer is very high for me. This would eliminate the chance of having cancer return to my breasts. Secondly, while it is controversial, there is research that suggests a woman with metastatic breast cancer that has a double mastectomy can improve her prognosis by as much as 2 years. Although, according to the breast surgeon, that study is wrong.

Lastly, and most importantly, when I started this journey I made myself a little promise. See, when our angel, Shannon, was born we didn't know she also had a congenital heart defect. The neonatal cardiologist met with myself and Steve and told us that she only had a 1% chance of surviving surgery. We made the hardest decision of our lives by removing her from life support. The “what ifs” have plagued me, and I always wondered “What if she was that 2%”, “What if she had made it through surgery and lived”. I felt as if I gave up, I let her die without knowing if she would have made it through surgery. I vowed to never do that again. I promised myself when I was diagnosed that I would fight, no matter how small the percentage, no matter how slim the statistic. If this surgery could possibly extend my life, even if it was by 1 day- I would do it.

Even with all of the reasons I gave, she still is against me having a double mastectomy. Ultimately, (she said about 10 times) it is my decision.

I thought I was going to break down in the office. I was so upset. I felt officially defeated by this stupid cancer. I was so confused by the disagreement between the two doctors. It just didn't make sense. If someone told me at the beginning that surgery would never be in my cards- so be it, I would have accepted that. But I have been told for months not only could I have it done, but that it would potentially improve my prognosis.

After researching the buh-jeebezes out of everything she told me, I will say she still doesn't have me convinced that it won’t help my overall prognosis. Apparently, a bi-lateral mastectomy in a metastatic breast cancer patient is very controversial. Some research says it benefits the patients, some says it doesn't. There are only a handful of studies conducted regarding this subject so it is very hard to say whether is actually extends life or not. I decided to ask some other women who are also Stage IV to see if there is/was anyone in a similar situation to mine. Not too many. One woman with Stage IV breast cancer actually sent me a message telling me to stop worrying about my breasts and worry about saving my life. Another told me that the surgery is not something I should take lightly. And one even suggested I am not undersdtanding the toll it will take on me. Really?! I am trying to save my life! I know the risks involved. I know what a traumatic surgery this will be, emotionally and physically. I would not voluntarily get my boobs hacked off for the hell of it. I feel that this I something that must be done to live a longer, fuller life with my family. Do you really think I care if I have boobs or not? Um, no. To say I was surprised by some of the responses is putting it lightly. Most of the women were very supportive of the “It’s my body and I’ll do what I want” approach and suggested me getting a second opinion.

The surgeon ordered me to have a breast MRI and mammogram. She wants to see if there is any evidence of cancer in my breasts that other scans might not show (she isn't convinced that the CT scan is very accurate). She wants to present my case to the other breast surgeons and oncologists at the hospital’s weekly conference. This would be a second opinion of sorts. That will be the determining factors of whether or not I will have the surgery. If that isn't stressful enough, I also have my quarterly scans. This time it’s my CT scan and bone scan. Scans = Scaniexty. More anxiety . . . yay.

It’s just so completely frustrating. I just want a shot at living longer with my family. Is that too much to ask?

Bad Days Happen

I have bad days. I have good days, too. I embrace both. They keep me grounded. I do not suppress my feelings of hopelessness, despair and desperation. I drown in those feelings from time to time but never let them consume my spirit. The allow me to do one thing: remember that in the sorrow, I will find hope, faith and love.

It hasn't been easy since I had radiation. The month of April alone I traveled over 445 miles to doctors’ appointments. And yes, you read that right four hundred and forty-five miles in less than a month. The effects of radiation were worse than chemo and what’s life without a little drama mixed in from friends or family? It was tough. I finally started feeling better this past week. The radiation did wonders to my pelvic pain and I barely have any now.  The damage to my bowel and whatever nasty stomach issue I was having seemed to have worn off. I am still a little leery about the whole “feeling better thing” because it never usually lasts long. I am taking it easy for now. I haven’t been eating super healthy as I am not supposed to be eating too much fruits and veggies because of the bowel damage and since I haven’t been well enough to exercise I get pretty worn out when I try.

I have been having a lot of anxiety about my upcoming appointment with the breast surgeon. A huge part of me does not want to have a double mastectomy. They are my breasts. Breasts are not supposed to be hacked off of your body. I know it sounds selfish but I just don’t want to get surgery. I just don’t. I don’t want to have disfigured breasts. I don’t want to be in pain. I don’t want to feel awkward anymore. Then again, I don’t want cancer anymore either . . .

I still am not sure exactly what type of surgery I will have. I thought I was dead set on having a TRAM Flap reconstruction done, which uses your belly tissue and muscles for a more realistic feel, but now I don’t know if I would be eligible for that surgery. I have a rather large vertical keloid on my stomach from having SJ and don’t think the tissue is very usable. The silicone implants wouldn't bother me but I keep reading how painful the expanders they put in to stretch your tissue are. Pain terrifies me anymore. I am a big baby . . . never used to be though.

And trust me, this is no boob job or tummy tuck. If you’d like to see pictures of how great you think this surgery will turn out, please, Google double mastectomy reconstruction. It’s not pretty.

I’ll continue to have bad days, such is the life of a metastatic breast cancer patient, but I won’t let them conquer my love for life and my family. I have to forge through to have the best days of my life.

Being Alive vs. Living

I originally posted this on CureDiva April 20, 2014

There is a difference between being alive and actually living. It was a difference that took a Stage IV diagnosis of breast cancer for me to understand.

I was busy with the mundane activities of life. I was a 28 year old stay at home mother to a set of 4 year old twins in preschool and a 2 year old with special needs. My special needs miracle was my son, SJ, who was born nearly 8 weeks premature and suffered from complications of his prematurity since birth. We went twice a day, every day during the week to some sort of therapy session or medical appointment of his. It was tiring work taking care of him. When I came home I still had to be a mother to two other young ones and also be a wife. I ran a nonprofit organization that I co-founded and spent many of my nights up until 3 or 4am trying to get work accomplished. I said “No” a lot to the kids; I was always too busy doing some sort of project to play. Dragging my son out of our minivan kicking and screaming because he didn’t want to keep going to therapy sessions took its toll on me mentally and physically. My back seemed to spasm every week which left me in excoriating pain. Sure we did fun stuff, but not often. I always had a full schedule. I didn't think life could get much more complicated.

That was until I felt the mass in my breast. I got the devastating news that I had breast cancer just days before I turned 29. Preliminary reports came back as HER2 positive, grade 3, IDC and DCIS; but my staging would change after my initial scans later that week. I’ll never forget when the doctor came in the room and told me that the cancer was found all throughout my body and that I was facing a Stage IV terminal diagnosis. I just sobbed hysterically and asked if I was going to die. The best answer she could offer was “We are going to try and not let that happen”.

I had mets to my liver, both breasts, lymph nodes, shoulder, ribs, thoracic and lumbar spine and down through my pelvis. It did not guarantee me a great prognosis. It is estimated that a mere 16% of young women with Metastatic Breast Cancer live past 5 years from their original diagnosis date. I was given a less than 5% chance of ever being cured. My immediate thoughts were of my children. What if I die? What if I leave them? What if they miss me? What if they don’t miss me? I won’t see them graduate, get married or have kids. My mind contemplated all of the things I have never done and all the things I will never do with my children. It was in that moment that I decided something. I would not let cancer be my death sentence. Rather it would be a living sentence; an opportunity to live my life to the fullest despite my own mortality shoved in my face. Living life is an occasion many take advantage of, including myself. I vowed I would never do that again.

No matter how much I tried to plan, schedule and manage my life prior to my diagnosis; cancer and everything associated with it was unexpected and I had to learn how to roll with it. In return, I created a list of things I would try harder to do or not to do in order to fully love living my life with or without cancer.

I say “yes” more often.
I complain a whole heck of a lot less.
I pay it forward every chance I get.
I am spontaneous.
I let go.
I ain’t got time to be glued to devices or screens. (No fancy phone and no personal FB account for me anymore!)
The world can wait on me because my family is my world.
Every Friday is Game and Movie night.
I slowed down. I barely ever say “Hurry up” or “We’re gonna be late” any more.
I smile and I smile often.
Laughter is one the best medicines and I surround myself with all things funny.
I appreciate the little things and smell the flowers more.
I inundate myself with only positive people. I don’t have time to be negative.
I compliment strangers.
I dance and sing like no one’s watching.
I soak up the sun.
I am better at being patient.
I am hopeful.
I am faithful.

And most importantly I love. I love so much now that it hurts.

I can’t say that I am thankful for cancer, because I am not. I can say that my cancer has blessed me. It has opened my eyes and made me live my life the way we were intended to live life. Without cancer, I don’t think I would have ever realized what a big difference there was between being alive and really living my life.

A Rainbow After the Storm- Literally.

Warning: This post contains graphic material

The last time I left you I was just starting radiation and my mom was just released from the hospital. I am happy to report my Mom has been doing great at home and has started to make a valiant effort in taking better care of herself. In the midst of all of these things just pouring over me; the pain, my mom being hospitalized, and the crazy amount of stress a rainbow appeared . . . literally. It was snowing, and it was freezing outside and out of nowhere this rainbow showed up. I snapped the picture above of the rainbow over our house. It was as if God was sending me a direct message: "I promise it will be okay" He whispered to me. He said it would be okay, he didn't say it would be easy.

Within a couple days of radiation I felt the fatigue hit me pretty hard. At first I wasn't sure if it was fatigue from radiation or from life in general. The girls became very sick and had spiked fevers and kept me up all night vomiting. I had noticed I also became very nauseated and was barely eating. I thought maybe I had caught a little bug from them. Every day we were trying to find someone to watch SJ and one of the girls so I could head over for my radiation treatments and every day my stomach issues seemed to become worse. I kept reminding myself "You only have 10 fractions; you can get this done, easy-peasy lemon squeezey." I felt the start of a sinus infection coming on, but I trekked through. Last Monday I had to take Lily to the doctor, her fever had gotten above 103 and she had eaten in days. I couldn't make it to radiation, I hadn't slept and I was feeling worse and worse. Well, I was not prepared in any way for what would come next. The following morning, my stomach had started to cramp very bad. I went to the bathroom and didn't leave for a solid hour. My stomach just tried getting whatever was in me out, whether I had to go or not. My whole body seemed to wretch from my mouth and my bum. I couldn't stop going to the bathroom. It wasn't right. The cramps were horrendous. They were worse than childbirth. I screamed in pain. It was unlike any pain I had ever felt. It just wasn't right. And when I wiped- there was blood. Steve rushed me over to the Radiation Center where I seen the doctor right away. Based on my symptoms and a rectal exam, I was starting in to bowel damage. Unfortunately, radiation kills cancer cells but it also damages normal tissue cells. Since I was having my pelvis radiated, my colon, rectum and bladder were all susceptible to radiation damage. The doctor put me on a low-residue (low fiber) diet and gave me two extra days off from radiation. I followed it for a couple days and was feeling better. It seemed to pass as quickly as it came. By that Friday it started all over again and if it was possible; hurt worse than last time. There was more blood and mucus. I assumed the episode was just me not listening to the doctor and eating McD's one day that I felt better. "That's what you get" I thought to myself. Since it was so late in the evening I figured I would just tell the doctor on Monday and would be okay through the weekend. My nausea got worse over the weekend and I was eating once a day. My stomach was so upset I physically could not eat. I only had one more fraction of radiation. I could do this. 

When I went in for my last radiation fraction Iz Kamakawiwo'Ole version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" played while I laid there for treatment. It is one of my favorite songs of all time. Here it was again, the rainbow, and a whisper: "It's not going to be easy, but it will be worth it and it will be okay". When my treatment was done I sat up by myself, unassisted. I got done from the table by myself. The radiation seemed to have done its job and my pain from the tumors in the pelvis had significantly decreased. I no longer had a constant pain and could lay flat on a table with minimal pain. This, of course, did not come without cost. 

The next day, the cramping started again. I sat in the bathroom for over an hour this time screaming and crying in pain. My whole body shook. I hadn’t eaten, I couldn’t stop going to the bathroom and the pain was so severe I just knew there was more damage than what anybody thought. It was worse than childbirth; and when a woman says that that’s some crazy-ass pain. Even though my body had nothing left to get out, I still dry heaved and my belly still had spasms as if it did. My doctor sent me straight to the ER. There was enough blood and mucus to be concerned but not enough that I needed a blood transfusion or needed to stay. It was quite apparent that I had bowel damage, which if not treated could lead to more serious complications. I was given a slew of medication to help stop the cramping, ease my pain and heal my colon and rectum.

If you wanna test your relationship with someone, ask a friend to help you administer medicine rectally and see what they say. Hehe! Although I had one friend volunteer and my mom never hesitated to say she’d help me. But it’s cool, no mom, friend or husband of mine is shoving anything up my butt. I don’t care if I have to try for an hour, I will be administering this medication by myself. 

I had another mini-meltdown. It is utterly amazing to me what I have to put my body through in order to either kill or shrink this stupid cancer. In order to live longer and have a better quality of life I have to subject myself to fatigue, diarrhea, rectal bleeding, nose bleeds, mouth sores, nausea, vomiting, hair loss, psoriasis, weight gain, broken nails, numb toes, optic nerve swelling, loss of vision- that’s just insane. Pity parties for me come and go but this one is officially over. I am done with radiation. 

The real test comes next week. I have all of my scans to check on my tumors. IF everything is stable, we may start to discuss planning my bi-lateral mastectomy. I just keep remembering the rainbow. This will all be worth it. 

I hear babies cry and I watch them grow,
They'll learn much more than we'll know
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world world

Someday I'll wish upon a star,
Wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where trouble melts like lemon drops
High above the chimney top
That's where you'll find me

Mon Valley Relay for Life

I was really excited when a friend asked me if her son and his friends could form a American Cancer Society Relay For Life team in my honor! Since the past month has been so hectic, I haven't had a chance to post about it yet and it's in 2 weeks! Hard to believe it's almost May!

Every day, the American Cancer Society provides free information and services to cancer patients throughout their journey. The organization is investing in crucial research to prevent, treat, and ultimately, cure all cancers. The ACS has played a crucial role in educating me through my journey. Their services have helped us a great deal.

Please consider joining 'Team Kate' at this year's Relay for Life, Friday May 2nd at Charleroi HS Soccer Stadium. Opening Ceremonies start at 10am. Registration begins at 4pm and the Survivors kick off the relay at 6pm.

If you cannot join us for the Relay, I ask that you each donate to our team. The Relay for Life is the largest not-for-profit event in the world. Meaning, all of this money is used for research and services!

Also, if you or a loved one has been affected my cancer, you can also purchase a luminary to be lit at the Relay and the donation will go to our team's goal.

Click on the link here to get started!

The Potholes in the Road

Life is full of bumps in the road; mine however, seems to be filled with potholes. As soon as one pothole gets patched, another storm brings new ones.

I have posted numerous times on our Facebook page how I have been suffering from this horrific back/hip pain. It’s more like the back of my hip, my pelvis, which has a stabbing pain in it just about every single second of the day with little to no comfort. I have endured the pain, not taking pain meds because they make me loopy. I simply cannot afford to be out of it while being a full time mommy and wife. I started seeing a great orthopedic doctor who seemed to generally be interested in helping me. First, he wanted to pinpoint my pain with a MRI of my pelvis. That MRI was the absolute worst non-invasive testing I have had done. The test itself was about 45 minutes long, and I had to lay with my arms above my head on a hard table in an itsy-bitsy tube. Halfway through I became desperately sick because my arms had started to hurt tremendously. I am stuck in this tube that I barely fit in and it is in that moment that even though I am not, I feel myself becoming claustrophobic. I just kept singing in my head “This girl is on fire . . .” The song empowers me. Needless to say I was elated to be done with that test and never once gave a thought to the reason my prescription said I was there: “To rule out Metastatic Disease”.

I figured today when I went in to have my results read I would be leaving with an answer besides the one I received. There are new lesions in my iliac crest (pelvis). Sigh. These are not previously noted on any scans, giving the reason to suspect the cancer has progressed. This is the reason for my pain. The lesions are exactly where my pain radiates. There is nothing my orthopedic doctor can really do for me now. He ordered some PT (physical therapy) in hopes to desensitize the area so I am not in constant pain. I have an appointment scheduled with my Oncologist on Thursday to discuss these new findings. I know it’s selfish but I seriously just don’t want to go back on chemo. I just feel like I am starting to feel “myself” again. I started losing weight, I have hair again, and my life doesn't revolve around chemotherapy and doctor’s appointments every week. I am ready for this pothole to be patched up. Do you think I could tweet Pittsburgh’s 311 Service to take care of this? Augh, I didn't think so.


James 1:12 
Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.