Thanksgiving 2025 has come and gone, and I am just filled with so much gratitude. I recently had another round of scans, and they showed that my cancer is still just chilling out only in my sternum. It’s as lazy as I am on the weekends. I remain grateful that my cancer is not motivated and is content to hang out in my sternum for the time being.
I find myself wanting to be a better version of myself, and I need to kick myself out of this rut that I’m feeling. I see a trainer two days a week, but if I want to have a remote chance at completing Hyner, I have to step it up big time and make some serious changes to my day-to-day.
If I keep doing the same thing over and over and hoping that somehow things will be different, then I can’t getting mad at myself for not achieving what I want. What I want is to do some cool ass shit on trails and do so without injuring myself. How am I going to do that when I’m so unmotivated and out of shape?
I can do this. I can change. I can make changes, challenge myself, and be more than my stage 4 diagnosis.
I think I have the personality and countenance to become a great eccentric. I am talking about caftans, calling all my friends “darling,” and wearing brooches and bangle bracelets.
I’ve known since I was a little kid that I was weird and different. I felt more at peace and calm with my nose in a book or hanging out with other weirdo kids. Those who don’t feel like they belong often seek out others who don’t feel like they belong. I am proud to say that I am still friends with my fellow weirdo classmates.
Since hitting my 5-year mark, I have felt this urge to really lean into my eccentricities. I’ve been dressing in comfy stretchy pants and t-shirts that make me giggle. However, I’ve been feeling…. disconnected. I look at myself in the mirror, and I don’t recognize the middle-aged schlub that I see looking back at me.
Logically, I know cancer treatment and side effects are to blame for my feeling of low self esteem. The weight gain and hair loss have been hard. However, I watched Stacy London and Clinton Kelly for years telling women to dress for the bodies that they currently have and stop waiting to achieve that number on the scale. So I want to take those lessons I’ve learned, and dress for the body I currently have.
I work from home and don’t go out much. I’m a 45 year old homebody who loves being home. There will always be chances to go out and dress the way that I want to. I have more tattoos to add to my body, too.
I will achieve peak eccentric old lady, and it will be glorious.
Last week, on October 2, I hit the 5-year mark since my former oncologist told me that my cancer had now come back as stage 4. Five years since my life forever changed because that day was a before and an after event. There was before stage 4 and then there was just stage 4.
When that day arrived, it was a mix of emotions for me. First, I am obviously grateful to still be here and have not experienced any progression yet. I also felt a bit of grief and sadness. I kept thinking about the friends who I have lost who never got to make it to the 5-year mark because why me and not them? I know they wouldn’t want me to think that way but it’s hard not to when you’ve seen so many amazing women have their lives cut short by this disease.
I miss who I used to be. I mourn that life, specifically the body that I used to have. I ran marathons and half marathons. I went to the gym and lifted. I was as strong and I saw my runner friends often, every weekend on our group runs.
At the same time, I am also proud of the person who I used to be. I think deep down, I always knew that cancer wouldn’t be done with me, so I ran. I ran and ran and ran. I gave this disease something to chase, and I have a wall full of medals from races to show that I did something pretty fucking awesome in between stage 1 and stage 4. Cancer can’t take that from me.
I ended up throwing a party for family and friends this past Sunday. I threw the party together kind of at the last moment, but it worked. When I found out my uncle, who requires the use of a walker or scooter, I reached out to my friends to find a handicapped accessible place. My friend, who works at a brewery downtown, suggested Helltown Brewery, and they said yes! Helltown Brewery in the Strip is fantastic, and I strongly recommend the place.
Prior to the party, I was a big bundle of nerves. Back in high school, I tried to throw a party for my work friends and nobody came. My stepmom had bought all these snacks and drinks for my party that never happened, and it freaking crushed me. I sobbed hard for like a solid hour, and afterwards, developed a phobia about throwing parties. (When I came back to Kansas City recently for a visit, the same work friends that broke my heart in high school all came to see me. We aren’t teenagers anymore, of course.)
They came! My fears were unfounded. Not everybody could make it, which I completely understood. I gave people a month and a half warning, and that’s short notice for most people to make any travel plans, etc.
My dad’s family travelled up from Indiana and Kentucky to attend, and my mom’s cousin flew in from Texas to surprise me. It meant so much that they came up to celebrate my 5-year mark. I adore my dad’s side of the family.
My friend Christine found a “Not Dead Yet” headband for me, which made me squeal.
It was a great time, and my friends knew that if they left early, my introverted ass would not mind at all. I was hoping that the party would be fully wrapped up by hour three, haha.
Given my complicated relationship with my dad, step-family and most of my mom’s side of the family, I often feel like I don’t matter or even belong. My five-year party showed that I actually do matter and that my extended family do care. They came and were all happy that I am still here and kicking! I am loved and I do matter.
Every day, I am in some kind of pain or discomfort. I’m not writing this to solicit any pity or anything like that. I am trying to be honest about what it’s like to live with metastatic breast cancer.
Ever since my diagnosis almost 5 years ago, my stomach has been trying to murder me. I have had Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) my entire life, but once I learned about my stage 4 diagnosis, my IBS became my number one hater. If I had a nickel for every time I said, “My stomach hurts,” then I could probably pay off the rest of my mortgage.
The other day at the gym. I went to just kneel down on a pad to do an exercise and my knee went, “Haha, I’m going to fuck up your entire day.” It has felt like pressure building underneath my kneecap since yesterday morning. The pain has lessened today but it’s still there when I walk down the stairs.
It’s a real mindfuck when you realize, “Hey, I can’t remember the last time I went a whole day and I felt fine.” I’m either exhausted or my stomach is killing me or my joints are reminding me that I’m a 45 year old woman with stage 4 cancer. However, I am glad that I was always grateful for my “good health” between my stage 1 diagnosis and my stage 4 diagnosis. I used that time to run, run, and then run some more.
The transition from being a 40 year old long-distance runner to a 45 year old stage 4 cancer patient has not been easy. I mourn every day for the Lara I used to be. What does help me, though, is accepting the fact that version of me is gone. I still work full-time, so I get to still straddle between the worlds of everyone else and being a cancer patient.
I write all this as a testament to what it’s been like for me to have stage 4 cancer. It’s a condition that I cannot forgot for one day, although I wish I could.
Last weekend, my boyfriend and I travelled to the New River Gorge for my 45th birthday celebrations. He booked an A-frame Cabin at the Ace Adventure Hotel, and it was absolutely magical. As usual, T outdid himself.
I have been wanting to visit New River Gorge ever since I learned of its existence. I saw videos and pictures from the park and knew I had to visit it one day. I am happy to say that it was as beautiful as I thought it would be. We came at perfect time because Spring growth was sprouting up all around us. Everywhere around us, vibrant shades of green were reclaiming their rightful place among the trees.
I could not stop grinning like an old fool the entire time we were there. My whole face ended up feeling sore from all the grinning.
The best part of the whole trip was that I came there with boyfriend but I left there with my fiancee. That’s right – your girl is engaged to be married. T asked me to marry him and I, of course, said yes. I am going to spend the rest of my life with my best friend. He makes me laugh every day and thinks I am funny, too!
I am a little nervous about posting this since I know some weirdos in my dating history still monitor my blog (why, though????). I swear on my mother’s grave, if any of them send me some email or text about this, I’m just going to forward it to my fiancee, and he will write them back. 🙂
Dr. Mehmet Oz, charlatan extraordinaire, was sworn in as Trump’s administrator for the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services (CMS) on April 18, 2025. As a stage 4 cancer patient who may need the services of Medicare and/or Medicaid sooner than later, I am both scared and angry that this quack has been appointed to one of the most extremely positions in the country. I am 100 percent certain that Dr. Oz is going to do irreparable harm to those who rely on Medicaid and Medicare.
First of all, what does CMS do? According to the Federal Register,
The Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services (CMS) was created to administer oversight of the Medicare Program and the federal portion of the Medicaid Program. It also ensures that program beneficiaries are aware of the services for which they are eligible and that those services are accessible and of high quality and develops health and safety standards for providers of health care services authorized by Medicare and Medicaid legislation. CMS is also responsible for administering the State Children’s Health Insurance Program (SCHIP), the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA), and several other health-related programs.
It is not an exaggeration to say that this is a very important role in the country, and now it’s being led by … Dr. Freaking Oz. These are the enrollment numbers for Medicaid and CHIP as of November 2024:
During his confirmation hearing, Dr. Oz would not say yes or no if he opposed cuts to Medicaid, according to a March 14, 2025 article in The New Republic.
If you are reading this and wondering why do I care or thinking I just hate him because he is a Trump ally, then let me provide you my reasoning why.
A June 17, 20214 NBC News article stated that Dr. Oz “got a harsh scolding from several senators on Tuesday at a hearing about bogus diet product ads. According to the article, Dr. Oz “admitted he uses ‘flowery’ language on his shows and said he realizes that the moment he recommends a product, the scammers use his words to sell spurious products.” In April 2012, Dr. Oz had touted a green coffee bean extract as a “miracle fat burning pill that works for everyone.”
According to an April 15, 2017 NPR article entitled “Physicians Urge Columbia To Fire Dr. Oz For Promoting ‘Quack Treatments,'” 10 well-regarded physicians in the country called for Columbia to fire Dr. Oz for “repeatedly show[ing] disdain for science and for evidence-based medicine” and “promot[ing] quack treatments for financial gain.”
During Covid, Dr. Oz’s quackery became evident to everyone. HuffPost reported in an April 16, 2020 article that schools should re-open because “only” 2 to 3% more people could die. Dr. Oz told Sean Hannity:
DR OZ: "Schools are a very appetizing opportunity. I just saw a nice piece in The Lancet arguing the opening of schools may only cost us 2 to 3%, in terms of total mortality. Any, you know, any life is a life lost, but … that might be a tradeoff some folks would consider." 😳 pic.twitter.com/aifMeKTsIv
That’s right – a doctor thought it would be okay to sacrifice a percentage of the population. That’s when I realized that Dr. Oz isn’t just a quack, he is a eugenicist.
After he was sworn in, Dr. Oz gave a press conference about his plan and vision for healthcare in the country, and it was textbook eugenics.
“It is your patriotic duty — I’ll say it again — the patriotic duty of all Americans to take care of themselves. It’s important for serving in the military but also important because healthy people don’t consume healthcare resources. The best way to reduce drug spending is to use less drugs, because you don’t need them because you’re healthy.”
It is my “patriotic duty” to take care of myself and when that happens, I won’t need as many drugs because I’m now “healthy.” Holy shit, my stage 4 cancer is cured!
Sarcasm aside, this line of thinking from Dr. Oz is absolutely insidious. By equating good health with “patriotism” and military readiness, us sickies would then be… what? Unpatriotic? If you classify a group of people as being unpatriotic or imply that they are a drain to society, then you can easily justify inflicting pain and suffering on them.
Sick and disabled people are always targets for fascist authoritarian regimes. According to the Holocaust Encyclopedia, “Many Germans did not want to be reminded of individuals who did not measure up to their concept of a ‘master race’ and were considered ‘unfit’ or ‘handicapped.’ People with physical and mental disabilities were viewed as ‘useless’ to society, a threat to Aryan genetic purity, and, ultimately, ‘unworthy of life.'”
Dr. Oz’s statement equates good health with being good Americans and a “good” American is one that can join the military and be ready to die for the country. Both Dr. Oz and Secretary Brainworms keep flapping their mouths about unhealthy Americans but notice how they don’t mention expanding Medicaid to ensure more citizens have access to doctors and perhaps get treated for their ailments or ensuring everyone in the country has access to healthy fruits and vegetables.
They want to take away medications, programs and services, all while blaming us sickies for our own illness. The Trump administration does not care if sick and disabled people die, only that the richest among us stay obscenely rich as possible.
In less than a week, I am going to be turning 45. I have now made it 5 years past the age that my mom was when she died from metastatic breast cancer. Not going to lie, it’s a bit of a mindfuck.
My mom was my roadmap for all things related to my health issues. If Patricia had it, then I sure as shit was going to also experience it. Because she paved the way, I was able to get doctors to take me seriously and screen me when something was amiss. I could look to see what Patricia went through and the doctors would go, “Yeah, sure, let’s order a scan / test / blood draw.”
I am going on five years since my stage 4 diagnosis, which in of itself is an amazing milestone. My mom died six or so months after she learned her cancer was stage 4. I can no longer look to see what happened to my mom and know what’s going to happen next besides, you know, the obvious. In fairness, that happens to us all.
My health matched hers and my face matched hers. Now, as I get older, I look at the lines and wrinkles in my face, and I don’t see my mother anymore. I look for her but she’s been frozen in time at the age of 40. I am being afforded a privilege that was not granted to her, and for that, I am grateful.
One thing that has definitely differed between my mom and myself is family involvement. When my mom was sick, my grandpa would come up from Texas and visit her somewhat often. Meanwhile my dad hasn’t made an effort to come visit me in the past 4.5 years. Hey, maybe if I’m lucky, my dad might actually come visit me before the 5 year mark? (Just kidding, he won’t.)
Sometimes I imagine that I live in an alternate reality where my mom never died from this wretched disease. In this scenario, I have a parent that actually checks in with me every week or so to see how I am doing. She was a social worker, so maybe my mom would have been up-to-date with all my scans, bloodwork, and knew to ask me about them without me begging her to care. It would have been nice to have lived in that reality but alas, that’s not the one I currently inhabit.
Last time on the phone, my dad did say he would try and come up to see me. You know what I said? “I really don’t expect anything from you so I’m not holding my breath.”
So happy birthday to me and my parental alienation and abandonment issues!
Ever since Trump was inaugurated, every day, I wake up and wonder, “What fresh hell has the Trump administration unleashed on us today?” Every day, I get an answer to that question, and my stress level just keeps going up and up.
When RFK Jr. was actually confirmed as Secretary of Health and Human Services, I really thought to myself, “We are so fucked. Us sick and disabled people are so fucked.” The government really elected the stupidest mother fucker to make health-based decisions that impacts everyone in this country. For an administration that allegedly is all about “merit-based” hiring, the Trump administration really elevated a brain-wormed, anti-scientist charlatan.
The fact that an anti-vaccine, conspiracy theorist is in charge of the FDA and CDC makes me even more resolute that rich white men will always fall upwards. Would he ever be in this position if his last name was not Kennedy?
According to an April 12, 2025 article in The Hill, measles cases have risen to 700 and the outbreak has spread to 25 states. ProPublica reported on April 11, 2025 that pertussis has increased 1500% nationwide in the country. The article further stated:
The Trump administration has eliminated 20,000 jobs at agencies within HHS, which includes the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the nation’s public health agency. And late last month, the administration also cut $11 billion from state and local public health agencies on the front lines of protecting Americans from outbreaks; the administration said the money was no longer necessary after the end of the pandemic.
Gee, what could potentially go wrong when you cut jobs and money from the nation’s public health agency when diseases like this are on the rise?
In his first interview since becoming HHS, Secretary Brainworms claimed in a CBS interview that he was not aware of the $11 billion in proposed cuts to local and state programs that address infectious disease, mental health, etc., his response was, “No I’m not familiar with those cuts. We’d have to go … the cuts were mainly DEI cuts, which the president ordered.”
The reporter then provided Secretary Brainworms with an example of being eliminated, which was a $750K University of Michigan grant focused on adolescent diabetes, and RFK Jr said that he would look into it.
This administration is a fucking joke, and we are being led by a bunch of Trump kiss asses and sycophants. I get to wake up every day, as an immunosuppressed woman with Stage 4, wondering what disease and potential pandemic is just waiting around the corner. The thing that really makes me angry as all hell is the fact that you know that this administration does not give a single flying fuck about sick and disabled people.
Did you know that last month, the Trump administration withdrew 11 pieces of guidance related to the ADA that helped stores, hotels and other businesses understand their obligation to the law? According to the Yahoo article, one of the pieces of guidance withdrawn was a “document provided a ‘maintenance list’ for retail stores for ensuring aisles, entrances, parking spaces, elevators and restrooms were accessible for disabled customers.”
On April 1, 2025, NPR reported how that Trump administration also dismantled the agency that is responsible for Meals on Wheels and other services for the disabled and elderly. Trump and his rich billionaires do not care if the elderly or disabled die due to their budget cuts.
This is just a fraction of the horror that Secretary Brainworms and Trump are inflicting on the U.S. They do not want to lead or help people. They want to make sure the rich get richer, and us peons go away as quietly as possible. The fact that family members of mine, even my own dad, voted for this train wreck blows my mind. Is making America great again mean bringing back preventable diseases?
Maybe Secretary Brainworms will make my cancer treatment illegal and force me to inject ivermectin? Who knows when we now live in Idiocracy.
My most recent scans consisted of a brain MRI, CT chest with contrast, and a nuclear bone scan. My oncologist told me that if these scans came back all clear, then I could push my next round of scans until six months. I was excited about this because less cancer-related disruption to my life would be amazing.
My brain scan and CT with contrast came back stable and unremarkable. My nuclear bone scan was my last scan, and I wasn’t expecting any bad news because I didn’t think I was feeling any new symptoms. I mean, now and then, I would feel a sharp pain in my shins but that didn’t scream “METASTASTIS” to me. Now and then, I would also feel minor weakness in my leg. In my mind, I was just feeling aches and pains due to being a 44 year old cancer patients and former runner.
Well, the nuclear bone scan came back with a potential new finding in my left femur.
Womp womp.
Is it progression (aka my Ibrance is now failing me)? We don’t know.
The oncologist’s NP called me and said that they want me to get a new bone scan in 3 months, and I scheduled my scan for 1/2/2025. Not my ideal way to start the new year, but eh, what can I do? My inner circle is amazing, and so many have asked me, “How are you feeling?” They have been wonderfully concerned with my anxiety and mental health in general.
Honestly, I am quite alright, which has been surprising to my therapist and myself.
Am I nervous and scared that my first line of treatment might be failing me? Of course.
Am I going to live in a constant state of nervousness and fear until my next scan? No.
While I am not a religious person by any means, I do find comfort in the Serenity Prayer.
O God and Heavenly Father, Grant to us the serenity of mind to accept that which cannot be changed; courage to change that which can be changed, and wisdom to know the one from the other, through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen.
I cannot change what has happened or currently happening. If my cancer has indeed progressed, then I will deal with it once we confirmed that it is progression. Until then, I just do not have the energy to freak out about the “what ifs.” I will wait to freak out until my oncologist tells me bad news.
In the meantime, I am going to focus on my job and trying to pay off the debt from my kitchen remodel and basement from hell. If I panic and flail now, then I am doing myself a disservice. I truly have a lot to do, and I need all the mental strength to keep moving forward until I have a confirmed roadblock ahead.
This is just the reality of living with metastatic cancer. I am under no delusion that this is going to be easy for me and that I will never deal with bad news or my health getting worse. I have accepted that this is my reality a long time ago. Obviously I hope that I respond exceptionally well to treatment for years and years to come. I also understand that this is just what metastatic cancer is and does. I’m not special, and I don’t believe God has singled me out to be some sort of inspirational cancer patient.
Cancer is smart, and it is ruthless. I know what I am up against. It’s not a battle. It’s a marathon.
It’s been a whole week since I had the vet put my beloved Boomer dog down. I have cried and sobbed so much that I’m convinced I have run out of tears.
Boomer followed me every where. If I was outside doing yard work, Boomer was also outside. If I was inside but her sister Mal was also outside, Boomer would be inside with me. She would keep me company in my office as I worked from home, and Boomer slept on her bed in my bedroom. It broke my heart last year when I had to ban her from going up and down the stairs because she had way too many trip and falls.
Boomer was also a very talkative dog. She barked allllll the time, even when I wanted her to stop. If she was frustrated, she barked. If she wanted my attention, she barked. If she wanted me to play with her and her stuffies, she barked. I could not have picked a more appropriate name for her.
I also didn’t realize how much I talked to Boomer every day or sing absolute unhinged songs about her to her. I would hold full conversations with her about how much I loved her, her silliness, or my day. Now, it is just so quiet in my house. Boomer’s sister is not vocal inside the house (just outside the house).
Even when I kicked my no-good, cheating ex out of my house, I never felt alone because I had Boomer. She was always by my side.
I used to think my past breakups were heartbreaking. They pale in comparison to losing my heart dog. You get over breakup, especially. I will never get over losing Boomer. I still look for her every day. She was my purpose in life when I had none. She gave me a reason to get up when I wanted to stay laying down. She saved me time and time again.
Until we meet again, Boomer. I hope Mom was greeting you at the Rainbow Bridge, and Aunt Maggie (aka the Beags) also met you at the entrance. I loved you every day of your life, and I will love you for the rest of mine. Death can’t and won’t change that.
Get Up Swinging 