Today is Metastatic Breast Cancer Awareness Day. Metastatic breast cancer is when cancer cells have spread from the original cancer site in the breast to more distant parts of the body. Terms such as advanced breast cancer, secondary breast cancer, secondary cancers, metastases and secondaries are all different ways of describing metastatic breast cancer, but they all mean the same thing.
There is no cure for metastatic breast cancer, but fundraising this October by the various breast cancer organisations will go towards much-needed research into new treatments, and a possible cure. My love and respect goes out today to those living with this bastard disease, including my beautiful friend Rochelle, who has allowed me to share her story.
I don’t talk much about my cancer. It’s something I choose not to dwell on. When I do mention things, I get private messages from people saying that they didn’t realise I was still sick, sick again, or sick at all. So as part of Breast Cancer Awareness month, and in particular with today being Metastatic Breast Cancer Awareness Day, I find it fitting that I put this out there today.
I am living with Metastatic Breast Cancer. If you’re not sure what ‘Metastatic’ is, it means my cancer has spread from the initial point to other parts of my body. This can also be referred to as secondary or advanced. Call it what you like, it’s incurable. It is terminal.
7 years ago I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. I was a 27 year old, with an almost 1 year old. Life changed. After surgeries, chemo and radiation I was given the clear and tried to get back to ‘normal’. We had another baby. Then 4 years ago, the day before my second son’s first birthday, they told me the cancer was back. They told me it had adhered to my sternum but during surgery they tried to scrape as much of it away as they could. They gave me chemo to mop up anything left. The chances of it spreading were almost guaranteed but they believed we had caught it early enough to give me a good amount of time before it would show up anywhere else. 12 months later it was in my bones and my lungs. Now it is also in my liver.
I am 34, trying to raise my sons as normally as possible, yet I do this every day with the knowledge that our life is anything but normal. I have had more surgeries, chemo, complications, blood tests, appointments and medications than I care to recall. And I am dying. I am realistic about this, I am not in denial. It is what it is. That doesn’t mean I don’t have hope. I have hope new drugs will be found to keep me here a bit longer. I have hope that research and technology with reduce this suffering for others in the future. And I have hope that my children will grow into amazing, productive, kind, happy men.
You can help by educating yourselves, donating and raising money for research and support services for those in need. Provide physical and practical help for those fighting and their families. Make food, fold their washing, help with their kids, take them to appointments, and just spend time with them!
Not just for breast cancer but all cancers.
#fuckcancer
If you want to help my funny, smart, fabulous (and not to mention hot, I mean c’mon have a look at her!) friend and thousands of other people in her situation, please consider making a donation to fund research.
Options for donating:
Cancer Council NSW (where Rochelle lives): https://www.cancercouncil.com.au/ways-to-donate/
My fundraising site (all funds go to metastatic breast cancer research): https://pinkribbonbreakfast.gofundraise.com.au/page/JulieShinners0
Boob in a Box 