What A Week

This past week has been crazy in so many ways. We experienced a crazy election, a new WOMAN Vice President (all politics aside this was amazing to watch with my daughter), had the weather change from 30 degrees one weekend to 80 degrees the next, I experienced my first earthquake in MA, and this past week I also learned that the current treatment that I am on has stopped working. The larger of the tumors in my liver has now doubled in size in the past six weeks. I was not completely shocked by this news, heartbroken but not shocked. I’ve always been pretty intuitive in regards to what’s going on in my body and I somehow just knew. I also joked that the last round of chemo, three weeks ago, was by far my best one yet. Easy-No. But better and more tolerable than the rest. So naturally it only made sense that this would mean the medicine was no longer working. My doctors and I always joke that if there is a slim chance of something happening or small percentage of a side effect it will happen to me.

I’m not quite sure why this is my fate. Why my husband will most likely be a widow in his 40’s. Why my kids will grow up without their mom. Not quite sure at all. It pisses me off more than anything and it is so unfair. I listen all the time to complaints that others make every single day over things that are so small in reality. I try my best to understand because everyone’s “Stuff” is important but in all honesty I am over dealing with my “stuff” because it is really big stuff. I try to remain hopeful that I will be an outlier and live with this for years to come but I am a realist and I know that the chances are slim. I have been lucky enough to live and live well with this disease for almost five years. Not a lot of other women in my situation can say the same.

This is a hard life. Not only does your world come crashing down when you are diagnosed, but each time you are on a treatment and that treatment stops working your world comes crashing down again. The crash gets harder each time because you know you are getting closer to that line where there may be no more options. You try to live each day to the fullest and try to squeeze in a lifetime into whatever time you have left. Something made so hard to do with Covid. We lost out on almost a year of memories, trips, visits with friends and family. This time lost was time I will NEVER get back. I am not sure what comes next for me. I go back in to DFCI on Wednesday to meet with my oncologist and see what is out there for me and what options we have. The funny thing is that I feel good physically. Mentally, I am in tough shape right now. But physically I feel great. Cancer is so fucked up.

12 thoughts on “What A Week”

  3. Monique Duquette says:
    Reply

    Keeping you in my thoughts daily. I love how raw and honest you are. It is encouraging even if it’s not happy all the time. I admire your strength April, I always have and always will. Tau love and mine, Monique.

  6. Anne Bunker says:
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    i Feel a lot of what you are saying. Why did it happen to you. You don’t have the cancer gene.! I don’t want there to be a time when you are not in our lives. I hope and pray for your health. Whatever the future holds, you have impacted all of us and want you around for many more years. You are so lucky that you have a great family and wonderful friends . I know you know this. We are always here for you.xoxo Anne and Dad

  9. Jennifer Santo says:
    Reply

    I am so sorry April. To top it off all this COVID shit, its so not fair is right. We love you so much and keep you in our continued thoughts and prayers daily. sending you the biggest and tightest hugs. xoxo

  12. CJ says:
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    This is really heartbreaking. You continue to teach your little brother strength when things in life don’t make sense, thank you. You’re one of the strongest in my life. I love you. Keep strong, we’re all behind you, you’re not done leaving your mark in all of us.

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