Did You Beat Cancer? – My honest answer
Hey there, friends and fellow warriors. If you’ve been following my journey or if we’ve crossed paths in real life, you’ve probably asked (or thought about asking) that big one: “How are you doing now? Did you beat cancer?” Oh man, it’s such a loaded question, isn’t it? I appreciate the care behind it, truly, I do, but it’s one of the toughest for me to answer. Let me pull back the curtain a bit and share why, in my raw, unfiltered way. Grab a cup of tea or coffee; this might get a little real.
First off, the optimistic part of me wants to fist-pump the air and shout, “Heck yes, I kicked that motherflipper with all I had!” But I can’t. Not honestly. Scientifically speaking, I’m dealing with a type of cancer, lobular breast cancer, that has a sneaky habit of recurring, sometimes years down the line. We all have rogue cancer cells floating around in our bodies, right? Mine just decided to throw a party once, and my system didn’t shut it down like it should. So, instead of claiming victory, we say “No Evidence of Disease” (NED) It’s like cancer’s playing the ultimate game of hide-and-seek, and it’s a pro at hiding. I’m vigilant, scanning regularly, but that shadow of “what if” lingers every single day. It’s not defeatist; it’s just realistic.
Then there’s the emotional side, which hits even harder. No, I didn’t “beat” it in the sense that I’m back to my pre-cancer self. That version of me? She’s gone forever, and I’ve had to grieve her. Behind my smile, the one I flash on the tennis courts or in the grocery store, is a body that’s been through the wringer. Physically, I’m tired, stiff, and forever changed. I never realized how much hormones keep everything humming until they were gone (thanks to ovary removal and those aromatase inhibitors). Now? I feel like a grandma. And hey, I am a grandma, a young, proud one with grandkids who light up my world, but this fatigue? It’s next-level. It is very hard for me to accept that I am not my old, full-of-energy self anymore.
Emotionally? Whew, that’s where the real mess lives. This might be too much information, but on top of the cancer meds, I’m on antidepressants to keep things steady. They work, they keep me from spiraling into those super-low lows, but they also flatten out the highs. No gut-punch emotions that stick with you all day; just this even keel that doesn’t feel quite… real. You know that feeling when joy bubbles up from your toes or sadness settles in your chest? It’s muted now. Why stick with it, you ask? Because without them, I don’t know if I could shoulder the stress at home, conquer my lifelong fear of flying (yep, still hate it), or face an uncertain future head-on. They’re my lifeline, even if they come with a side of emotional fog.
So, you might be wondering: What the hell am I doing all this for? Why share my personal stories, the side effects, the what-ifs? I’ve worked hard on flipping my mindset. Instead of dwelling on the “why me?” questions: Was it stress? Birth control? One too many martinis? My DNA? I’ve started adding value to every twist and turn. Cancer sucks, no sugarcoating it, but it’s my reality. And in embracing that, I’ve uncovered blessings I might’ve missed otherwise. I’m surrounded by an incredible support system: my kids, extended family, who’ve been my rocks through every test, surgery and recovery day. My medical team? Absolute stars, they connected me with specialists who made the impossible feel manageable. And now? I’m channeling this into something bigger. I’m helping piece together the puzzle of lobular cancer, raising awareness, and funding research. If my story can spotlight this under-the-radar beast and push for better treatments, that’s purpose enough for me right now.
If you’re reading this and you’re in the thick of your own battle, or supporting someone who is, know this: It’s okay not to have a tidy “I beat it” bow on your story. Healing isn’t linear; it’s messy, ongoing, and deeply personal. I’m here and living my best mom and grandma life. I love my friends and I hope they know they continue to pull me through the darkness. Thanks for letting me share this slice of my world. What’s your take? Drop a comment below: I’d love to hear how you’re navigating your own “tough questions.”
With gratitude and love, Astrid
