In 2008, I was given less than a year to live.

 

Metastasis was the word they used. I had to look it up. It wasn’t good. It meant that the breast cancer had decided to take a trip to visit other parts of my body, and had decided to vacation in my liver. Quality of life was another phrase that came up, as in Chemo will ravage your body, and you’re going to die soon anyway. 

 

I was 42. I was mad. Really mad.

 

I adopted the term cancer assassin then, because I was going to do everything in my power to kill what was trying to kill me. I knew I might die anyway, but I was ready to fight. This is the attitude of a cancer assassin. 

 

I had surgery to remove the breast tumor and lymph nodes, and started chemo. I did a lot of reading and improved my already pretty healthy diet, started yoga and meditation. Found the best oncologist around. Wore hats and wigs and looked pretty sick for awhile. And then I went in for a post-chemo PET scan and was told there was no evidence of cancer in my body anymore.

I was, indeed, a cancer assassin.

 

I’ve had additional surgery to remove my ovaries, because the type of cancer I had loves estrogen. I’ve been part of a clinical trial out of the University of Washington. I continue to swallow medication and lots of supplements. I go to the infusion center every three weeks to receive a drug called Herceptin, which I’ll likely do for the rest of my life. It’s okay. I’m happy to take it. I’m here. 

 

Along the way, I’ve met other cancer assassins, and some have not survived. But they were fighting their hardest to kill The Bitch, and this makes them cancer assassins, too.

 

It’s about attitude, but it’s also about gratitude. I’m not sure why I lived and others, given the same diagnosis and treatment plan, did not. But I’m grateful every day for this life, and cancer assassin is my way of remembering that and giving back.