Birthdays: More than Just a Number

October is a busy month for me. The calendar reminds me of my nephew’s wedding, my daughters and grandkids visit itineraries, harvest events, Columbus Day/Indigenous People’s Day, Halloween and a half dozen birthdays, including mine.

Although I am taken aback by how much my hands look like my grandmother’s and that the gray, bi-speckled woman in the mirror is me, I am grateful for my birthday. In 2007, I was diagnosed with Stage 1 breast cancer. A million terrible scenarios played out in my head. Cancer is scary, especially when you are wimpy, and live with an overactive imagination. But I had to focus. Once surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation therapy finished, the prognosis for a long, healthy life was very good. I paid attention to instructions, went to follow-up appointments, and got my life back. Birthdays became more than a number.

Just as I thought I was free and clear, a small yet menacing lesion parked itself on my lumbar vertebrae, hurtling me into Stage 4­­­—metastatic breast cancer, MBC. MBC is the killer. It gets into bones and organs threatening life. To be clear, no one dies of cancer of the breast, but over 40,000 American women die of metastatic breast cancer each year. Thirty percent of earlier staged survivors develop MBC.  There are many variations, genotypes and treatment protocols, but the common denominator is that, to date, there is no cure.

I have been living with MBC since 2012. In 2016, my team at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center found a protocol that keeps the cancer very lazy and contained. I claim to be their most boring metastatic breast cancer patient. Each month I go in for treatment. Within a few hours, the uncomfortable side effects dissipate. I move forward and get on with my life. I am grateful that my insurance covers every anxiety riddled scan, regular blood tests and injection protocols, and feel lucky to live in a place with resources, and in a time when science and medical research are moving forward.

Although October holds so much joy in my world, I fume over all the breast cancer awareness pink-ness. For several years, I submitted and re-blogged my Surrendering Pink post. Pink was always my go-to color, my favorite. With Stage 1 diagnosis, when it wasn’t supposed to be forever, pink became my talisman with the sisterhood of survivors. Pink lost its magic when metastatic breast cancer crept into my body and scared everyone around me. The pretty sisterhood morphed into a warrior brigade. Over the years, I lost dear friends and, most recently, my sweet young cousin to this hideous disease. Although MBC is the cancer that kills, and thirty percent of early staged breast cancer patients develop MBC, only 2-5 percent of the enormous funds raised for breast cancer go to MBC research for the cure. October 13th is the only day in October dedicated to MBC.

We need research and clinical trials. We need a cure! We need it for our mothers, grandmothers, sisters, wives, friends, daughters and young cousins. Our families and communities need to see this happen. It is not a pretty in pink package. One day of awareness and fundraising to win against MBC is never going to be enough.

For each $13.50 purchase, I will donate $10 to METAvivor ($3.50 is for postage in the continental United States). METAvivor is an organization dedicated to vetting and funding medical research for an MBC cure. METAvivor remains the only United States organization dedicated to awarding annual stage 4 breast cancer research grants. Because a core group of dedicated volunteers who live with MBC, staff METAvivor, one hundred percent (100%) of all donations and 100% of fund raiser proceeds go to METAvivor research grants. It is a great bang for your donation buck. Read more about METAvivor Here

It’s going to get busier around here but will be worth the effort. The offer will continue all month long. Let’s get started.  Email me to order your book.  atmartin@stories-served.com

Have a happy and healthy October. Hug your Everyone. Every day is a gift, including birthdays.