metastatic breast cancer

Five Year Mark

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.

Take that, cancer.

Huffman sometimes rules

Yesterday, I completed something that I honestly did not think I would be able to do. I finished the Two Face 10K race event in North Park. I haven’t run consistently since 2021, which is when I switched over to just hiking.

However, my five-year mark is coming up on October 2, and I felt like I had something to prove to myself. Honestly, I wanted to really tell stage four breast cancer to fuck all the way off. I still do. The five year mark is a really big deal to me. I know so many of my stage 4 breast cancer patients who never got to see their five year mark.

I didn’t really tell anyone I was doing this until it was closer to the race for a couple of reasons. If I didn’t manage to complete this, I didn’t want everyone to know that I tried this and failed. I also didn’t want anyone to leave comments for me saying I’m inspirational or brave, something like that. Because I’m not inspirational or brave.

I’m pigheaded.

My stomach had been really plaguing me the weeks leading to the race. The day before the race, I had gone to urgent care due to extreme GI problems. I truly did not think I would be able to do this race. What really got me to the finish line (literally) was a good friend of mine signed up for the race, so we would do it together. Plus, the weather was actually nice and cool the other day. I had been training for months in just high heat and humidity, so this weather felt magical.

I don’t think I could have done this without my friend there along the way. When we started the second half of the race, the trail portion, I wiped out and fell. Luckily, it wasn’t a bad fall and just caused some superficial scrapes on the side of my leg. Nothing bad, thankfully.

The 10K trail race actually was almost 7.5 miles, which I was not aware of prior to race day. Haha. I fought like absolutely hell all those 7 miles. There were curse words, and more importantly, it was quality spent with my good friend as we battled together.

When her and I crossed the finish line, I had a group of friends and my fiancee cheering so loudly for me. It was a pretty amazing moment for me. My friends, who had already finished the race, waited for me! I did find out later that at one point, they were wondering if I had maybe gotten eaten by a bear. Honestly, that’s fair. We were supposed to keep a 20 minute pace but ended up being a 23 minute pace.

I did it, though. I finished both races, even though I really didn’t think I could do it.

My five-year mark is now less than two months away, and I got to send a giant fuck you to metastatic breast cancer. Cancer has taken so fucking much from me, but yesterday, I was able to take a swing back at cancer.

The 5-year Mark

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!

Being a Cancer Patient in the age of Trump

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.

Roller Coaster Scans

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.

Love Being Unremarkable

This month has been a busy one with scans and doctor’s appointments, and I am happy to report that I remain stable and unremarkable (*insert joke about my mental health here).

Earlier this month, I had my yearly brain MRI, and I was nervous about this one, to be honest. I have been experiencing more headaches than normal and some ringing in my ears. Happy to report that the brain MRI showed that my brain tumor has not grown in the past year, and I still do not have any brain lesions. My headaches are more than likely due to the up and down weather and that always beats up my sinuses. I experienced one headache that felt like an ice pick going to my right temple, and it took me out for the entire day.

This week, I had my most recent round of scans – a nuclear bone scan and a CT with contrast. I am happy to report that my CT scan shows that I’m stable and unremarkable. The nuclear bone scan also shows that my sternal met remains stable, and I do not have any new mets in my skeleton. The scan did show degenerative changes in my spine and both my knees (!!!!). Great, I’m officially old, ha.

When I saw that my knees are showing degenerative changes, it made me relieved that I gave up running in late 2021. I do miss running, but I actually miss all the time I got to spend with my running friends. I should really make an effort to volunteer for races this year so I can still be part of the community that I love so much. I don’t have to run to still be part of the running community.

The news I got this month feels like such a relief. My birthday is next week, and now I feel like I can celebrate another year on this planet. Every birthday feels like a satisfying fuck you to breast cancer. For so long, I thought I was going to be dead from breast cancer at 40 just like my mom. Here I am, about to turn 43, and my cancer is stable and I’m going to the gym on a regular basis. I have an amazing boyfriend who makes me so loved and happy. The best way I can ever “beat” stage 4 cancer is to keep living my best life.

“You beat cancer by how you live, why you live, and in the manner in which you live.”

Stuart Scott, 2014

Good-bye 2022

As 2022 comes to an end, I want to reflect back on what was a pretty transformative year for me. To my surprise and probably everyone else who knows me, I am ending this year in such a great mind space.

The biggest highlight for 2022 – my cancer has been stable, and I remain unremarkable. That is absolutely my number one highlight. If I can go a whole year without any surgeries and/or progression, then that’s a big win in my book. I have seen the struggles that my friends who also have stage 4 have gone through in 2022, so I remain grateful and appreciative that I have been okay this year.

I probably do need to get a cane to help me walk in certain situations because concrete surfaces make my back hurt and ache. It took me awhile to come to terms with that fact, but I got over it. Who cares if I need a mobility aid to walk long distances on concrete? My other option is to just stay home, and I don’t care to do that. I want to keep moving, and I should not let my weird pride get in the way.

I had a handful of big wins at work this year. I really enjoy figuring things out and working with data. I participated in an initiative this year that focused on data analytics. Because of the work done in 2022, I am confident that an audit I have kicking off on Jan 3 will go as smoothly as possible. I have big plans for 2023 because your gal here is gunning for a promotion. I know when I go back to work next week, my life is going to get super hectic so I’m just enjoying this week off (aka calm before the storm).

The transformative part of my year happened during the later half of the year. I really thought my ex dumping me was going to destroy me. We had been together for 6 years, and I really didn’t have any issues with him like I did the ex before him. He didn’t gaslight me or cheat on me with prostitutes and Sugar Baby websites like the Other Guy did. The breakup did negatively impact me and that period afterwards was absolutely brutal. I rebounded though, and I came through it stronger.

You know how and why I came through it stronger? Easy – supportive friends and years of therapy, baby. (Plus, I blocked him on all social media because once I’m done, I am 100 percent done.) I credit therapy with helping me quickly realize I needed to channel my feelings into something productive, and I did. I went back to the gym a month ago. More importantly, I’ve been cooking more in these last four months than I probably have in the last four years. I fucking love it, and I am having so much fun learning new techniques. These wins in the kitchen have done so much for my self-esteem and self-worth.

I am not hopeless. I am not a lost cause!

2022 has ended on such a high note. I’ve met a new man, and he makes me so ridiculously happy. I’ve been grinning so much in the last month or so that sometimes my face hurts from smiling so much. I am looking forward to what adventures await him and I in the new year.

Every year, my new year’s resolution is the same – Read More Books. This year, I’m going to add a new one – have more fun with Boyfriend (name redacted) in 2023. I’ll be successful.

2 Years

It has been 2 years since I was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer. Two years since my heartbroken oncologist informed me that the bone biopsy I had confirmed that the breast cancer was now in my sternum. It’s not an exaggeration to describe that day as the worst day of my adult life. My biggest fear – dying of stage 4 breast cancer just like my mother – came true.

On top of that, I was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer during a worldwide pandemic, squashing all those dreams and fantasies about going on bucket list trips. Now that I’m thinking it’s somewhat safe (with the right precautions) to go on these trips, my boyfriend of 6 years dumped me. He and I talked about going on these trips when the time was right, and the time ended up never being right.

Even with all these setbacks, I’m not going to let this stop my plans. I do not need a boyfriend to go on these bucket list trips I have on my list. He might have broken my g-d heart, but I won’t allow this to break my resolve. I have gone on vacations by myself, and I will do it again. If I am having issues walking and might need assistance to keep my klutzy ass safe, then I am sure I can find a friend that would join me on my bucket list trips. (I can hear some of my friends now thinking, “Lara going on a vacation by herself? Dear lord, she will trip somewhere and we will never see here again!”)

As of right now, I can walk and hike relatively well. I’m 2 years into a disease that on average, kills patients after 36 months. I’ve been stable since my diagnosis, and as such, been on my first line of treatment all this time. I am fortunate that I only have one met, and don’t suffer from any chronic pain. If I wait too long, will it backfire and I lose my chance to have these trips without dealing with pain and discomfort?

I can’t depend on anyone else for my happiness, and it’s up to me to make this happen. Only me.

“Handling it so well.”

For some unknown reason, I have had loved ones and acquaintances tell me, “Lara, you have been handling your Stage 4 so well.” Every time I have heard this, I’ve been taken aback by this comment. Why would anyone think I’m handling my disease so well?

I have lived alone for the past 6 years, and I’ve been working from home for 2.5 years now. I’m not around any single person for extended periods of time. I stopped running, so I’m not seeing my running friends on a regular basis anymore. This is the most isolated I’ve been in my entire life.

Yet, I get these remarks about my state of mind. One day, I’m going to respond, “Am I handling it so well, or do you only see what I want you to see or hear?”

The weeks leading up to my 3-month scans always do a number on my mental state. I wonder, “Is this going to be the scan that changes everything?” As of right now, my cancer does not appear to be motivated and content to stay put in my sternum. I used to be anxious and scared out of my mind that my cancer was going to come back stage 4, and now that it’s confirmed stage 4, I’m anxious and scared out of my mind that my cancer is going to spread throughout my body.

How is anyone supposed to “handle this well”? I don’t think it’s socially acceptable for me to be periodically shrieking to people, “Do you know how fucking scared I am?” I have to deal with this the best I can because again, I live alone and there’s nobody coming along to “save me” and take care of me when I can no longer take care of myself. You know how terrifying that is?

What’s going to happen to me?

Living with stage 4 cancer is like staring down a mama grizzly bear alone in a forest. It’s not a matter of if but when.

I honestly believe several of the people who have said this to me wanted to convince themselves that I’m okay and totally don’t need any help. That way, they don’t have to ask or actually do anything. Out of sight, out of mind, amirite?

I am so appreciative of my friends and loved ones who have not assumed my state of mind and sincerely ask how I am doing. I am definitely grateful to be able to still work because it ensures a 40-hour reprieve from all things stage 4 cancer. This disease is full of emotional landmines, plus all the side effects that come with treatment (i.e., joint pain, weight gain, stomach problems, sleep issues, etc.).

I am handling this the best I can, but for the love of dog, don’t ever assume you know what’s going on with me. That just infuriates me.

Deep thoughts by Jack Ha-… Lara

Sometimes, living with stage 4 breast cancer and working full time, feels like living in two different worlds. I have one foot in the “normal” world, and I have the other foot in CancerWorld. I am not a full time cancer patient yet, and that fact never leaves the back of my mind.

I am so grateful that I am still able to keep working, and I truly believe being able to still work full-time job allows me some non-cancer time. At the same time, at the end of the work day, I am mentally and physically drained, as if I am using all the energy I have to perform my job and do so well. Come 5 o’clock, my brain sounds like a long, drawn-out beeeeeep.

At the beginning of the year, I look at my vacation time and occasional absence time and wonder, “Hmm, can I use these vacation days for actual vacation days, or should I save them in case something happens in a couple of months and I need to take time off?” I’m torn between wanting to be optimistic but feeling like I should be pragmatic and prepare myself for potential emergency.

All of this shit is just exhausting. I am coming and going to the pharmacy for my medication, or the hospital for my monthly Xgeva shot and monthly bloodwork. Don’t forget – these medications come with side effects because of course they do. On top of that, I have to get scans every 3 months to monitor my cancer and a year brain MRI for my tumor. I see my oncologist every 8 weeks, and I have other specialists to monitor my thyroid, etc.

I juggle all this and still work full time. By the end of each work week, it looks like a tornado came through my kitchen. I’m just so dog-damn tired. I live alone, which can be a blessing and a curse. I’m glad nobody sees the state of what my house looks like the majority of the time, but then again, it’s just me responsible for cleaning this up. If I could fire myself, I would, but then that would leave Boomer and Mal responsible for cleaning anything up.

I know I can ask for help, but I carry this insane amount of guilt with my illness. I am so damned lucky that as of right now, the cancer is just in one spot and I’m stable. As far as I know, the cancer in my sternum doesn’t appear to be motivated, and my brain tumor does not appear to be impeding my physical or mental capacity. Every damn day, I am grateful that I still have some semblance of health, but it’s like my battery is at 45% charged. I see others with stage 4 breast cancer who are doing so much worse and dealing with pain I have yet to experience.

So I hold back for asking for help because yeah, I’m fine. Am I fine, though?

Like I said, I have one foot in one world and one foot in another. I feel like I should know the answer to that. I’m gaining weight, and I know that my face is just aging. Most of my clothes don’t fit me. My eyebags have bags. I’m new to chronic illness and fatigue, and I’m pretty sure I’m not handling it in any awe-inspiring way.

Maybe I’m fine? It varies day by day, minute by minute, scan by scan.

Such is the life of an oligometastatic cancer patient.