I originally decided to start a blog to vent. Sometimes I need the keyboard to be my catharsis… typos and cuss words included.

However, it’s not all about me.

If you asked me what I learned in September it would only be one thing.

I am loved. 

At the risk of sounding trite, I am blessed. I have an entire circle of friends and family surrounding me. A friend to pick me up from my diagnosis and listen to me cry all night. A friend to pick me up from my biopsies and feed me pizza while I slurred xanax induced nonsense. A friend to meet me at the bar for a shot shots after I spent 6 hours of speed dating at SCCA. (spoiler alert: they all got to second base – heeey)

I’m going to use this blog to not only vent but also fill you in on the cold hard facts. I can’t always keep up with the calls and texts but I love that you’re all concerned and want to know whats going on. My google doc friends want the details. So I’ll share the sciency (read: boring) details here as necessary.

*The nitty gritty*

I’ve learned I have multifocal IDC (invasive ductal carcinoma) with connecting DCIS.  In english? I have a milk duct that is full of a type of pre-cancer called DCIS. DCIS stays in the duct until it gets a little sassy and starts trying to invade the nearby tissues like Cersi Lannaster trying to defend her throne. Now its a battle of the boob. Cancer is here. Winter is coming.

Multifocal means I have two tumors from that same nasty little duct covering an area of about 8cm. Current sizing on the tumors is 3cm and 2cm. Or 8cm, depending on who you ask. One places me stage 2B, the other stage 3C. My biopsy has confirmed one lymph node with cancer in it and damnit, now I know why my arm has been weak the past few months. I had assumed I strained it in the gym.

My pathology has come back ER+ / PR+ and HER-

What does this mean? It means Uncle Joey is a basic bitch. Garden variety. He wants a PSL and some Uggs STAT. He is easily treated with a ton of hormones.

My grade is 3/3 and my KI67 is 40. In the grand scale of things this means shit is going HAYWIRE in there. My cells are dividing and getting crazier at a rapid pace. It’s a party. BYOB.

I’m lining up my troops and getting my sigil ready. We just have a few war room decisions to make before we decide how to best overthrow the throne.

Those maneuvers involve an MRI to hunt for more cancer in the breasts. An Echo to make sure my heart can handle what we’re about to throw at it. Genetics to see if I’m rocking the “Angelina Jolie” mutation and need to remove all breast tissue STAT. A CT scan and Bone scan round out my week. Those last two are to make sure this cancer hasn’t gone rouge. I’ll be honest – I’m SCARED TO FUCKING DEATH of these last two tests. I feel strong. I feel like I can fight this but I will be devastated by a stage four diagnosis. Cross your figures for me. Send me all your basic B spiritual gangster vibes.

Let’s get this fucking show on the road.