Breast cancer diagnosis

Hey ladies, just wanted to check in and say hello! 😉

Well, Happy New Year to everyone! Let’s prioritize health above all else this year—if we have our health, everything else will naturally fall into place. 😘

I’ve been doing alright these past few days—nothing spectacular, mind you, but I suppose things have been moving along well enough.

I trust that everyone here is doing well and staying healthy.

There are updates and questions on my mind, but I won't be rushing into them just yet. Let’s take things slow. 😉

Hey hey, right back at ya! I’m sending nothing but good vibes your way—hope you make it through the end of the year feeling absolutely amazing 👍!
And man, we are all just sitting on the edge of our seats waiting for updates, crossing our fingers that some great news heads our way soon...

Oh, Kate Morgan66... I don't have any good news for you... unless some kind of miracle happens. I am dealing with an incurable disease; this monster is never going to leave my body. It can only go dormant or act up. For the rest of my life, I will have to be on various treatments constantly... that is my reality.

It is a small mercy that my Stage IV was caught early and there is only a tiny metastasis, which means we still have some room to maneuver and plenty of different medications to try to slow down the spread of this thing.

I am not exactly in high spirits today. Or lately, for that matter. Everyone around me thinks I’m at Stage III and that I’m "fighting." Up until now, I actually believed the lie I’ve been telling everyone. But honestly, I just don't have the energy to keep pretending everything is fine—to force this positivity when there is absolutely no foundation for it. I feel this sudden urge to just tell the truth to everyone, but then... they'll start looking at me like I'm some sort of walking corpse... a persona non grata. I want to avoid that. I'd rather let them think I’ll recover, that I'm fighting, instead of letting them know that, in reality, it’s already over and it’s just a question of how many years are left.
There is no fight left. It’s done. It has targeted me, and that is that. Surgery might not even be an option.
The only "fight" remaining is my attempt to live as normally as possible and to try not to dwell on it. If I can do that, I might last longer. That is the only battle left for me: trying not to fall into total despair.

The only silver lining is that it was discovered in an early phase, so I will likely last a bit longer than if the targets were scattered everywhere. That’s all.

And I am putting my faith in medical cannabis. Actually, that is my biggest hope right now..😉 More and more every day. I’ve done some research, and that is the path I’m taking. Alongside conventional medicine, I will be using this too. That's the plan. I mentioned it to my resident doctor—the internist (she’s the only one I ever see, since I never get to see my primary physician, which feels like a sign in itself! 😁😠). So, I told her my plan, and she didn't take sides. She said there isn't enough research and that the proper dosages aren't truly known yet, and she’s right about that, but... I don't have a choice. I'm going all in.🙂
My private doctor will write me the prescription, what else can I do?

Kate Morgan66, how are you holding up? You mentioned you went through something similar yourself, but if I understood correctly, you’re all finished with your treatment now...? Thank God for that... honestly, you actually got to see your kid head off to school.. 🙂
I completely get where you're coming from... the sheer stupidity of it all mixed with the pure luck.. 😘

So, here’s the deal. I’ve already knocked out three rounds of chemoimmunotherapy. And they tell me this isn't exactly some "lightweight" therapy.. 😉 Especially since it's not even palliative.. 🎉
The routine is: first I get Herceptin, then Perjeta (along with those immunotherapy drugs), and finally Docetaxel. As soon as that hits, I turn bright red—even though they pre-medicate me to God knows what, hahaha! You wouldn't believe the sheer amount of stuff they pump into me with syringes before they even hook me up to the Docetaxel.. at least five different kinds of medical miracles..
But regardless, I still turn red.. 😁 Then they have to unhook me, run a flush, wait for the redness to subside, and then bring me back in again..

When I show up there, I don't just make an easy exit. Oh no..! 😁 They aren't getting rid of me that easily.. 😁 People come and go, but I stay through the whole thing, seeing everything through to the end.. and I'm always the last one out.. through some side door.. hahaha.. because of my extreme sensitivity and allergic reactions, whatever takes someone else an hour to drip in, takes two hours for me.. what takes an hour and a half for others takes me closer to three hours.. and that happens three times.. with an hour break between meds.. so, you do the math.. hahahah!

Now, Kate Morgan66, since you unfortunately have the experience under your belt: what am I supposed to do about my nails? They’re actually hurting.. They tell me I need to take B vitamins, but like, three separate pills, and I just can't manage that.. I can barely swallow one..
Is there anything out there that comes in a single pill that can actually meet our increased demand for B vitamins..?

Brenda Johnson68, you might want to check out this article—it's about these cooling gloves designed specifically to protect against side effects like neuropathy and nail loss, which are such common headaches when dealing with Taxane treatments (basically the standard chemo used for breast cancer)
https://www.curetoday.com/articles/f...-breast-cancer

Brenda Johnson68, any news on whether they can do radiation on the breast and the metastasis at the same time?
If I’m thinking about this right, those two things could totally run parallel...

See, I dealt with gynecological cancer—had a 4 cm tumor on my cervix—and I've been going through treatment, which was basically a combo of chemo and radiation, what they call chemoradiation, after doctors finally stopped playing games and actually did their jobs.
Everything is looking good on paper so far, but man, I’m dealing with this delayed reaction from the radiation where my intestines are really taking a hit... I'm heading in for an MRI tomorrow, so we'll see what's actually going on under the hood.

Hey Brenda Johnson68, how’s it going? What's the latest scoop on everything?

Kate Morgan66 said:Brenda Johnson68, how are you doing? What’s the current situation?

Hey Kate, hey dear! 🙂

Hi everyone..

Well.. I'm fighting the system, my husband, my mother.. and my stomach..

My 5th cycle is done. I was supposed to start the 6th on March 13th, followed by a break and checkups, but just a few days before my last cycle, my legs started swelling up.

After spending an entire day waiting at the Vineyard Urgent care and catching a cold in the process, they decided it wasn't heart or kidney-related, so they pushed back my chemo immediately because they think it's a reaction to the medication (Docetaxel).
Now we're stuck waiting a week for the swelling in my legs to subside, but from what I can see, that isn't happening...

And this was supposed to be the final round of therapy before the follow-up scan.. after which they would likely move forward with more treatment, either with or without Docetaxel, but moving forward regardless... I'm terrified without the taxanes. They seem to keep things under control with those... ah.. I don't even know what to say..

One step at a time.. I just need this swelling to go down so things can get back on track..

And nobody knows how to help me with these legs.. all they say is: "just wait for it to go down.." 🤦 It's useless.. I have a feeling it's not going to happen..

Why won't they perform lymphatic drainage if my lymphatics aren't working? Or give me a diuretic along with some electrolytes to flush out the fluid without losing my minerals..? But no—nothing..

I'm heading to a private clinic this Monday for a second opinion... maybe they're right, but I've completely lost faith in our healthcare system, so I have to double-check everything.
Because I get the sense that for them,
1. cost-cutting is the top priority, then
2. following protocol (which heaven forbid should never be deviated from), especially since they're so afraid of lawsuits, while
patient well-being sits firmly in 3rd place.
And that's assuming points 1 and 2 are even covered.. 🤦
I'm furious because nothing was actually done, no one bothered to explain things properly to me, and on top of that, I was left to wait nine hours in the ER just to get half of what I needed—and even that only happened because I personally tracked down a doctor I met during this cancer journey, and he managed to organize a venous Doppler (which took four hours, following a three-hour wait for an EKG.. surrounded by people sneezing their lungs out, while I'm an oncology patient heading into chemo.. 😲🤦).
I honestly don't know what to tell you guys.. I am more and more disappointed in this system of ours, and my trust is dwindling.. I might as well say I have almost none left..
If they would just show some respect to us patients and explain things clearly, people wouldn't be filled with such skepticism, but as it stands..
well..

Brenda Johnson68, I left a comment for you over on that chemo thread, but I'll just 🙂 send it here instead:

As for my faith in the American healthcare system? I can honestly say I’m just relieved to be done with them entirely. They discharged my mother from the Special Lung Hospital in NYC with the excuse that she wasn't an inpatient candidate—claiming they didn't have enough beds for oncology patients (which we later found out was a complete lie). They kicked her out that Thursday around 9 AM, and she didn't even make it back home until after 10 PM because we spent the entire day waiting for an ambulance to pick her up, given how little she could move and how much she needed oxygen. She passed away that Saturday, shortly after noon. That whole ordeal was really just the final insult in what has been three and a half years of "wonderful" medical care.

@ Rachel Williams, thank you so much for your responses, dear! 🙂 I honestly cannot believe what you went through! 😲
Actually, I can. I experienced something very similar with my father at that same hospital you’re talking about—if we’re discussing Washington, D.C... should we even name names? Or can we..? Long story short: he passed away there. It felt almost too convenient; right before the holidays, they intentionally let his fever spike just to hasten the end because, well, he was terminal anyway, and they didn't want him causing trouble during Thanksgiving.
And we aren't the only ones with such horrific experiences at that facility... I hear stories from others all the time, and frankly, I'm not surprised. It seems to be the worst hospital in NYC.

My own oncologists and this hospital I'm using are, I suppose, okay, but only to a certain point. There is a limit to how much they will do. They don't take risks, and they certainly don't fight for the patient. The protocol is treated like holy scripture, and I fear it's more about cutting costs than anything else... And their ER is supposedly the absolute worst. I suspect there is a fundamental failure in their organization, and I'm worried they are severely understaffed. People there are trying, but somehow... it just falters. Everything takes far too long. It feels as though communication between departments is completely broken. 🤷

@ Kate Morgan66, honey, what is going on with your intestines? For heaven's sake... you treat one thing, and another part of you suffers.

Have you had your MRI yet? What did the results show?

Yes... that is exactly what scares me... what else lies ahead, and what will remain of these side effects as permanent struggles?

They tell me that after chemo, your immune system will never be quite what it was again, never truly back to normal... that is so depressing to me. Because... it seems I still haven't fully accepted the fact that I am a sick person. That I am no longer that strong, healthy individual who was always fine, had no issues, no pain, was genetically blessed, and felt like I could turn the whole world upside down....
And now that is all in the past... forever, I fear... it depresses me, and I worry things will only get worse... oh, God.

Sorry, everyone. I think I’ll refrain from commenting when I get into these moods... But unfortunately, I fear this isn't just a mood. It is actually an awareness of the truth. Nothing else. As for being "positive," that's just putting on rose-colored glasses. That is how I see it. And I desperately want someone smart and logical to talk some sense into me.
So, this will be my last check-in while I'm in this headspace... sorry again, guys...
Let me just find my pink sunglasses. I've lost them somewhere in the house... 😁

@Brenda Johnson68/">@@Brenda Johnson68, I won't try to tackle all three topics at once; I'll address everything right here. Regarding the lymph issue, this link seems fairly reliable. https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/lymphedema/symptoms-causes/syc-20355301

Back when my mother dealt with her first bout of breast cancer twenty years ago, her arm would swell up on the side where the surgery was performed during her chemo and radiation. She had to wear a compression sleeve and did whatever exercises she could manage—she even went for lymphatic drainage sessions occasionally. Eventually, after about two years, things finally leveled out and the arm returned to normal.
Now, over the last few months, both of her legs started swelling. Everyone kept insisting it was lymphedema, telling her there was nothing to be done, yet just ten days before she passed, they started her on Furosemide (along with potassium, naturally). Within a matter of days, the swelling in her shins was almost back to normal, and her lower legs were well on their way too. It turns out it wasn't lymph issues at all; it was just fluid retention.
As for the hospital, yes, that’s the one—the facility in NYC over on Rockefeller. I have nothing but praise for the nursing staff there, but as for the doctors? I don't have a single kind word to say.

Please keep us posted on how things develop; you know we're all following along. 🙂

My dear friends...

I just felt the need to reach out and check in with everyone...

So, here I am. Back at it. I had my PET CT scan in April, and you know what? Everything came back clear. It was all gone. Every single trace.

I was absolutely over the moon! Honestly, I feel terrible that I didn't share that news with all of you back then. I just didn't want to make a big production out of it or bother anyone by posting about it at the time...

I was doing alright—honestly, I was managing to stay aggressively positive, as much as anyone possibly can given the circumstances. I mean, when you’re staring down a prognosis that gives you five, ten... maybe fifteen years left, how much optimism can you actually squeeze out of a situation like this?

Everything was going well—honestly, I felt like a completely new person. Of course, I wasn't naive; I knew that even when you're at your absolute peak here in the States, things can only head downhill from there. But why dwell on the inevitable? I intend to make the most of this moment! I’m going to celebrate, get out and socialize, and truly enjoy life with my husband and my little dog.

So, we were all set to head out to California at the end of June. I was actually feeling optimistic for once—thinking summer was finally ahead of us, just pure sunshine and good vibes. And then, like some cruel joke from fate, everything just falls apart come autumn. It’s like... what even is the point? On only the third day of our big summer trip, my little pup passes away. Just gone. Everything just goes south right when you think things are looking up. 🙂

And that’s it... that was the trigger. I’ve officially spiraled into a deep depression, and honestly, there’s no easy way to put it. Between the constant, nagging reminders of my health situation and these new waves of physical pain, everything just feels heavy. All the progress I made, all that positivity I fought so hard to maintain—it’s like it just evaporated over these last three months. No matter how much effort I poured into staying upbeat and keeping my head above water, it wasn't enough to stop the slide.

She passed away so suddenly... and she was truly my everything. She was my rock, my comfort, and my last remaining connection to a life that felt real—back when I was actually her mother, looking out for her rather than the other way around. Back then, I was strong, I was active, and I felt capable. We used to go on these long walks together, and I was the one watching her step, making sure she was okay. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if anything ever went wrong, she could always come to me.

Over these past two years of fighting this illness, I feel as though I’ve somehow lost my ability to be that protector for her. It’s a heavy realization—the feeling that I simply can't provide the same level of care and support that I was once capable of when I was actually healthy.
My husband stepped up and took care of everything. He handled the walks, he made sure she was fed... Honestly, my stomach was in such bad shape that I couldn't do a single damn thing.
Things in the States are looking up, but I just can’t seem to shake this inflammation—this strange, lingering condition. It’s frustrating. I’m going to have to go running back to the doctors again to deal with it... honestly, I’m just exhausted by it all. Exhausted by everything.
I don't have children. That dog was my child, plain and simple. Now, look, I was under no illusions—I knew I wouldn’t have grandkids running through the house or showing up for Sunday dinner—but there was something about her. When she was by my side, that horrific reality of my medical diagnosis didn't feel quite so unbearable. It felt... manageable. Sometimes, I catch myself spiraling. I start thinking—God, I can barely even let the thought cross my mind—about everything that is likely coming my way. The uncertainty, the struggle, the sheer weight of it all. And then? My eyes land on her. She looks so sweet, so completely innocent, sitting there with her little toys, clutching that panda or her favorite teddy bear. In those moments, I just run. I run from the dark thoughts. It lifts the weight off my soul, if only for a second. It makes me decide, right then and there, to just live in the moment. And honestly? That’s exactly how it went.
Once I realized that the cancer had actually retreated—and once it truly sank in that, given my current condition, this is honestly the best possible outcome—I made a decision. I’ve decided not to dwell on anything beyond tomorrow. I am not looking toward the fall or what comes next. Instead, I am focusing entirely on how my husband, our little dog, and I are going to make the absolute most of this summer. For me, it feels like our last one without constant pain or heartaches, so I intend to live every single moment of it.
And then she’s just... gone. Dead. All because those veterinarians were nothing more than negligent hacks. 🙂

For the first two months, I couldn't even bring myself to think about my own situation. My mind was constantly elsewhere. All I could wonder was: how is she doing? How is she coping? It just feels so fundamentally unfair. She was such a relatively young dog. Why did she have to be taken away like that? And in such a horrific way, too... right there at the local animal shelter. 🙂

Once that initial wave of grief over her finally subsided, I was left to face the reality of my own situation. It’s like I’m drowning in it. There are no distractions anymore—nothing to pull me away from the weight of what I'm feeling. I find myself stuck in this headspace nearly 24/7, and honestly? It’s bad.

So, this is it. I received that devastating positive result, and honestly, even my dog couldn’t handle the weight of it. What am I supposed to do? My little pup is my entire mental anchor... she was my one source of pure happiness. Given how small she is, and since she was only 8.5 years old, I truly believed we had at least five more years together. I used to dream about us crossing the finish line side by side. She is quite literally my reason for staying grounded. And then there is my mother. She’s 85 now. I haven't told her about my metastatic tumor. Based on the doctor's reports, my days are numbered. She is another massive reason why I refuse to give up. As for everyone else? I suppose after the initial period of mourning, they’ll find a way to move on without too much trouble. I worry about my husband, too, but he has his children and grandchildren to lean on. He’ll find his footing eventually, I hope. He’s always been a survivor, though... lately, I can't be entirely sure of that. I see how deeply the loss of our dog has hit him, even if he tries to mask it. He does his best to push the grief aside. But my mother and my dog? No. They wouldn't survive losing me nearly as easily as the others might. They have been my two primary motivations to keep fighting.

I feel completely lost right now..

Forgive me, ladies, for the venting, but I truly have no idea how to navigate this.. Having my little pup was my anchor. What am I supposed to do now..? 😢

The melancholy and depression have taken hold of me once again. I have to find a way to pull myself out of this hole. Because, for God's sake, the quality and longevity of my life depend entirely on my mental state, and I absolutely must get myself back on track. I must!

By the way, I previously wrote about the passing of my little dog, but I was using a different username, Enigma... I had to start this account because I couldn't get into the other one for a while—I completely forgot the login details—so I opened this one, posted in the pets_ Dugin bridge section, and eventually managed to recover this account too. I was actually worried about posting in the health section under Enigma because I didn't want the moderators to ban me; I’ve been trying to be careful not to post in the same threads with different handles so both accounts stay active. Please, mods, don't go picking on me or banning me; honestly, I have enough to deal with right now with how much I feel like I'm dying inside... Using two nicknames isn't some attempt at deception or anything; it's just that there was a period where I simply couldn't access one of them. I have no idea which one it was, it was so long ago that I've already forgotten...

Anyway, if you want the full story, just head over to the Psychology thread, specifically the "Grief for a Lost Pet" discussion... everything is laid out there.
Also, check the pets_ Dugin bridge thread. Username: Enigma

There... then you'll see just how much my little pup meant to me... she used to help dial down my pessimism... she was such a positive distraction...
But now she's gone, and I don't think I'll ever have another... because honestly, in my current state, how could I possibly bring a new dog into my life when I can't even be certain if I'll still be around to see them through? It feels selfish, almost irresponsible, wouldn't you agree? And yet... I don't know. I'm so conflicted. I don't want to live without that canine love when it means so much to me... but who's to say I won't be gone in a year or two? Exactly. Then again, maybe I will. Okay... sure, my husband would probably take care of a new little pup, but... right now, I'm just terrified for all of them. Since her death, life just feels so incredibly fragile. It feels like we're all just... tiny, insignificant insects. Life is just so brittle, isn't it? For everyone. What if he gets sick? Who would look after the dog then?..
...and besides, I'm really not sure if I'm ready. Even though I'm dying to be, I'm terrified that having another dog around might just amplify the grief and make me resent the poor little creature. Like, what if it starts acting like my little Bellic?.. 😢

Good grief... there I go being negative again. This is useless... once I've pulled myself together and found some positivity, I'll check back in. There's no point in sitting here wallowing and dragging you all down into the abyss with me.

Talk soon... I hope you all enjoy your health and the beautiful weather. Kisses to everyone!

I’m not sure if this comparison actually holds up, since I am—thank God—perfectly healthy, and we aren't talking about a pet here but an actual child, but my thoughts were honestly pretty similar: does it even make sense to bring kids into this world when there are absolutely no guarantees for anything? It’s good to be realistic, to stay aware of where you stand in life and to have a few different scenarios playing out in your head, but of course, it still makes sense to do it.

The only thing that’s truly certain is death, but until then, I suppose we should try to live. 🙂 I'm wishing you nothing but luck and good health. 🙂

dustymaker642 said:I’m not sure if the comparison holds up, considering that I am—thank God—perfectly healthy, and we aren't talking about a pet here, but an actual child. That said, my own thoughts were remarkably similar: does it even make sense to bring children into this world when there are absolutely no guarantees for anything? It is vital to be a realist, to be fully aware of one's own life circumstances and to mentally map out several possible scenarios, but of course, it still makes sense.

The only thing that is truly certain is death, but until then, one ought to live. 🙂 I wish you nothing but luck and good health. 🙂

Thank you, dear... 🙂

And the same to you; may health and life be kind to you! 🙂

Yes, it makes sense...

If you are young enough to believe you can support a child through their education and everything else until you're 65, then go for it. Don't wait. And don't give up... after all, it is one of the most beautiful things that can happen to a person... I see that by watching others. 😉

Good luck! 🙂

Brenda Johnson68, oh my gosh, I have some absolutely wonderful news for you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I am so incredibly sorry about your pup; I know he was your entire world, truly, but honestly, you’ve gotta shake off this negativity right now, like, immediately...

Why on earth would you think your last summer was okay when you're feeling this way?

Personally, I just completely lost it emotionally once everything was over—once I finished my treatments and it felt like all those built-up brakes finally just snapped...

Kate Morgan66 said:Brenda Johnson68, I have some absolutely wonderful news regarding your situation!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I am so incredibly sorry about your dog; I know he was your entire world, but honestly, you need to snap out of this negativity immediately...

Why on earth would you assume your last healthy summer is coming up?

Personally, I completely lost my mind once everything was over—after finishing my treatments and when it felt like all those mental brakes finally released...

Alright, I’m checking back in again, my dear friends! 🙂

My second follow-up PET scan just wrapped up, and I am clearaaay!! 🙂))

The doctors are thrilled, and it looks like surgery won't be necessary... given my condition, it just doesn't make sense... why put myself through that agony if there's no actual cure, only management? They're giving me maybe 5... 10... 15 years max... But I don't feel that way at all, because right now, I am clearaaay!! And frankly, I couldn't care less about their prognoses; I’m going to live life to the absolute fullest! 🙂) (As long as my stupid stomach allows it... ugh...) But I am NOT backing down!!! 🙂)))

Kate Morgan66, I honestly thought this was going to be my last guaranteed good summer—everything else is just a massive "if" at this point, you know? Given the diagnosis, plus the fact that I still don't even know for sure if they're actually going to go through with the surgery or not... and let's be real, that procedure would be incredibly invasive and extensive, leaving me with some serious consequences. For now, though, I'm still holding it together. 😉

Love you girls! Honestly, I’m in such a fantastic mood right now because I am finally clean!!!! 🙂))) 🎉🎉🎉

Hi Brenda Johnson68, 🙂 hope you're doing okay... any updates? I honestly admire your courage. With that kind of positive energy, I truly believe you can handle whatever comes your way.

I recently went through a stretch where I was waiting on a diagnosis confirmation. Thankfully, it came back negative, though I still need regular checkups and monitoring. It really got me thinking about all of this...

Sending my best to everyone!

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