This October marks 6 years since I found my lump and began my cancer journey—and 1½ years living with metastatic breast cancer.

For four years, I was told I was “cancer free.” Then we discovered it had mutated and metastasized, with “innumerable” lesions throughout my liver and spots in my lungs.

The most terrifying part? I couldn’t feel it.

The cancer returned silently and spread without warning. During those four years, routine surveillance didn’t include imaging of distant organs where metastatic disease could hide.

Now, every 3 months, I undergo chest and abdominal scans. I take medication daily, receive two injections a month to block estrogen, pursue holistic approaches alongside medical treatment, and advocate for imaging of my bones and brain.

All of it is an attempt to monitor what we cannot see or feel.

In one year, that can mean at least:

💊 1,095 pills
💉 24 injections
🏥 36 appointments
🩻 6+ scans
📅 730+ days knowing the cancer is still there

These aren’t just numbers. They represent the reality that Stage IV cancer doesn’t get a “You’re doing great!” and a goodbye. It is monitored, managed, and treated—but it still needs a CURE.

Curing metastatic breast cancer means more than helping me live longer. It means no one has to die from breast cancer.