I’m alive. I am kicking cancer’s ass everyday.  As for the doing it while being pretty, I guess that is all in the eye of the beholder.  I occasionally ask my husband if I am looking “cancerish;” he never misses with responding “you are beautiful.”  That had to be difficult when I was bald and 8 months pregnant.  

I have stage 4 synovial sarcoma.  The equivalent of hitting the cancer lottery of bad luck.  Initially diagnosed when I was 5 months pregnant with our 3rd child; having recently been relocated for my husband’s job.  Several months of chest pain and fatigue had been chalked up to pregnancy related reflux.  Then a diagnosis of an unknown infection. Finally; however reluctantly, cancer.  A tumor the size of a softball.  

The next 6 months is a hazy blur.  First, a surgery to remove the huge tumor settled in the lining of the lung.  A hero of a husband who asked for a job transfer and sold a house while commuting between states. A saint of a mother who opened her door for a family of four (almost five) for help with childcare, a newborn and a cancer patient.  There were 2 rounds of chemo deemed necessary while pregnant to have a shot at saving us both. Followed by a scheduled induction at 35 weeks.  Miraculously, Ethan Matthew was born on September 22, 2014.  Although, he had to hang out in the NICU for 2 weeks, he was discharged beautiful and healthy.  We had 1 week home together before I returned to the hospital to begin an additional, more intense, chemo regime.  6 days of inpatient treatment followed by 2 weeks of recovery at home. Then repeat.  Rounds 3 and 4 were essentially a nightmare. Bonding with our beautiful newborn was minimal, I barely had enough energy to get out of bed. I had to be lured into round 5 with the hope of canceling round 6 and a promise from my husband not to leave my side.  A difficult task to accomplish given there was a job to hold down and three kids at home to nurture.  Round 5 was as awful as anticipated and landed me in a 48 hour coma.  Then there was Christmas, prayers of gratitude for health, family, friends and a clean, cancer free scan.  

There was 8 glorious months of cancer free joy.  I made up for lost bonding time with Ethan.  Enjoyed time with Garrett (6) and Addison (3), got stronger and returned to a job I loved.  We bought a house.  We bathed in the post cancer glow of health and began putting our lives back together.  My hair, at least on my head, returned!

A routine three month scan in August 2015 brought news of a small met.  Strangely, cancer had shown up in my right adrenal gland.  I felt defeated.  Not because of a reoccurrence, but because this was the scan that I felt the most positive about walking into it.  I was the strongest I had been in a year and a half, but cancer didn’t seem to care.  My first relapse was a lot harder to handle mentally than the initial diagnosis, but that is a story for another day.

Since that relapse, I have participated in a phase one clinical trial (twice), radiation, three more types of chemos and several surgeries.  It’s been a rollercoaster both physically and emotionally.  I’ve made tough treatment decisions and ultimately been very proud of myself for continuing to fight.  I’m here.  I’m alive.  I’m thankful and I would like to share my story in any capacity to help others through their battle.  Welcome to our story.