I’m 45. In 2010, at the age of 39 I was diagnosed with breast cancer. At the time I thought I was unlucky — given one in eight women suffer from it in their lifetime. The fact I was young surely meant my nearest and dearest would benefit from my bodies decision to take one for the team. That’s a positive in the shit storm right?
This morning I headed off to see my Oncologist, dragging my feet but fully accepting of my fate. With summer over, it's time to start treatment on my desmoid tumor. Treatment being a year or so taking a drug called Nexavar, which is a chemotherapy drug. Whilst it is used for liver and lung cancers, there has been success using it at a low dose to kill off desmoids.
I have resisted starting the drug for the past year since I was first diagnosed. I dramatically changed my diet and adopted many more holistic practices hoping to heal it naturally. But at my last scan in June the Doctor confirmed it had indeed grown and he would recommend me starting treatment. Back then I asked if I could take the summer off and commence in September. He agreed and we also decided I would have a level set scan after Labor Day and then get on with treatment.
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