I’ve been following Megan over on Insta for a while now. She was a fellow mbc thriver. She’s been on the struggle bus big time recently – with brain and skin mets. Then she got covid. And, as of last night, she passed. I know I didn’t actually know her, but she was so open and honest about life with MBC, that I felt like I did. She was only in her mid-thirties, and left behind a husband and two young kids. It’s heartbreaking and unfair and I fucking hate it.
I can’t eat much anymore (or drink much either) without feeling really full and sick. I’ve also been having a lot of reflux. I wake up super ill in the middle of the night. Lots of nausea, reflux, and cramps. So I think I’m going to ask that my scans be moved up. I’m worried the peritoneal mets are growing again. I’m not supposed to scan until June 23rd, but I don’t think I can stand to wait that long. Plus, I need to report this kind of stuff to my oncologist anyway.
I’m so tired. I don’t know how much longer I can handle all of this bullshit.
Yesterday, I read a post in my support group from a 40-yo mom with three young kids who will be dying from MBC in the next few months. She’s riddled with cancer from head to toe and is out of treatment options. To say it was triggering would be an understatement.
My psych told me that my job is to relax and take care of myself. She said she knows it’s difficult for an over achiever like me to allow themself to do so without a lot of guilt, but that she wants me to work on it. So I’m currently lying down and resting for a few hours before I head out to run some errands. Like she said: I didn’t choose this life, but I choose to make the best of it.
Also – I keep reminding myself that this is technically my retirement. I should do things that make me happy. What’s the point of feeling guilty about it? It is what it is.