How do I say this?

This is hard to write, hard to share, and very hard to face. 
I guess there is only one way to say this: I have been diagnosed with cancer again.  Here we go...

I was feeling kinda yucky one day just about 3 weeks ago. Keith and I were Christmas shopping in Sioux Falls; we shopped at Costco and Sams Club and we had food samples at both places.  We were really having fun, and we went out to eat at Chevy's before the drive home. I drank half of my margarita and suddenly felt horrible. I couldn’t eat my burrito at all, and I wanted it!  I assumed that I had a food sample at one of the stores that just didn’t like me.  

Working in a school, you get exposed to every bug out there, and this felt no different to several other minor illnesses over the year.  After still feeling yucky for another week I went to the doctor. He ordered a CT scan, and we got the results on the Friday before Christmas.  The scan detected spots—which the doctor called cancer-- mostly in my liver, but also in my ribs, spine, and pelvis… a recurrence of breast cancer.  The doctors never said it could possibly be something benign.  They have seen this before.  So, this is incurable stage IV cancer.  To firmly diagnose it, the doctor ordered a liver biopsy, an MRI, and another CT scan, which were done this morning, with a bone scan this afternoon.  Right now, I’m radioactive from the injected dye.  This sucks on so many levels. 

If you are anything like me, a billion questions just popped into your head. Honestly, I don’t know the answers to most of them yet. We are at the beginning of this journey, and it is going to be a very different road than the one I went down before.  Once we get a biopsy pathology report on the 2^nd or 3^rd, we’ll know more and probably have an exact treatment plan.  The treatment to battle this will include both radiation and chemo, but not all services are available in Pierre-- that will complicate things.

Right now, I don't feel good at all.  My current symptoms escalated quickly just the past week or so.  My energy level is very low, and I am battling pain and severe nausea because of the impact on my liver.  Regretfully, I will have to take leave from my job at Kennedy Elementary, since I simply don't have the energy level that it takes to be there. I really enjoy my job there. The team of teachers and staff is like a family and they have been very friendly and kind to me and my family since my first day on the job.  Libby really loves knowing I am in the building, and hanging out in my room after school.

Last night, we told Grace and Libby the news.  We said that the doctors believe the cancer came back.  We won’t tell them what the statistics say about it.  Instead, we will convey to them our own hope for successful treatment, and express a continual positivism about battling it.  If treatments are not successful as time goes on, we will have that discussion with them separately if and when the situation presents itself. 

As there is no cure for stage IV cancer, it is hard to find balance between realism and hope, between wishes and statistics.  I am obviously saddened, but I’m not lying down to die just yet.  I must acknowledge the reality that this kind of cancer will shorten my life.  Even in the best-case scenario, I will probably not live long enough to see my 60s. I am 52 now.  I won’t live long enough to grow old with my husband and have that time with just the two of us.  It is most difficult to think of my daughters.  All of our daughters have always been my pride and joy!  It is hardest to think that my young daughters may have to face life without a mom. Coming out of childhood into young adulthood is already hard enough.  I am very sad that I may not be there for our youngest two as they navigate teenage life and become the incredible young adults I already see budding in them.  I truly cherish them every day.

For those that live near, Keith and I understand you may want to help, but we just don’t need anything specifically right now.  Once treatment starts, we will have some very specific things that we would need help with, and I will post that then.  In the meantime, I am counting on each and every one of my family and friends to give my sweet daughters and grandsons a shoulder to lean on when they need it, or a fun little escape, or a smile, or a nod of support as I begin to battle this thing.  Your thoughts, prayers, and positivity will definitely help too.  Thank you for those, and thank you for being here for us.

Mary