Everything hurts, and I'm dying...literally!

Want to know what it's like to have a hemiarthroplasty of the hip? On Tuesday, I had my second surgery in 18 months, to the same leg. In May 2018 an intramedullary rod was put in my right femur to stabilize a fracture. This was done urgently by the on call surgeon. Because of the bone tumors and the radiation and chemotherapy I received for my cancer, the femur never healed properly and in September this year I managed not only to fracture the leg again but I broke the top of the rod. This time around my surgery was done by the pathologic orthopedic surgeon (he specializes in broken bones caused by cancer), he's the expert! His plan; remove the hardware and perform a hemiarthroplasty using a cemented bipolar implant. Surgery went mostly as planned, though removing the hardware proved to be more difficult. The surgeon said he had to "bring in the muscle" in the form of a second surgeon, and use vice grips to remove the rod. This, he says is why I have so much more pa

...we're ready to go! Big girl Ellie helped pack, she loaded up her Minnie suitcase with toys for her and her baby brother.  She even stuffed her boots full of toys (5 finger puppets, a fire truck for her brother, and a bottle and food for her dolly), funny kid! :) It looks like we're ready for a fun family vacation but that's not quite the case. Today we made the 3hr drive to Sudbury, for the next week Mike and the kids will stay with family while I have surgery to repair my broken leg/hip. If all goes as planned I should be able to go home in 3-5 days, and hopefully once healed I will not only have better range of motion but I should be in a lot less pain.  Fingers crossed! I don't usually get nervous about surgery but two separate doctors have cautioned me about bleeding, the need for transfusions, and what my wishes are should I die during surgery...So this time around I'm a bit nervous. Positive thoughts though, all will go well and recovery will be quick.

...I've forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet. It really seems like another lifetime, to think just 2 years ago I was an active, able bodied, go-getter. Work, a sweet baby girl, and fun doing a multitude of outdoor activities, those were the things we thought about. No need for anxiety inducing thoughts of what will happen to our family when I die. We didn't have to plan for weeks of radiation, or plan for surgeries. Perhaps the simplest thing but one that affacts our everyday life is that I didn't need help with anything, and for me this is hard to come to grips with, not being able to do things that I once did without batting an eye, it's frustrating and demoralizing. I wish I could go back to the life we had, before I was diagnosed with terminal cancer in my bones. But alas! We can't turn back time, so we forge ahead. This past week was a long one! I left home Sunday and drove to Sudbury. I had radiation Monday through Friday, to treat the new

Certainly not a treat, so is this a trick? I wish it were so simple! Despite my bone scan indicating the cancer was stable, my MRI shows a new loonie sized tumor at L2 (the lumbar spine, roughly where your ribs end). Now, for the 5th time in my life, I am preparing for a week of radiation treatments. This time I have to travel to Sudbury, 3 hours from my home, and stay Sunday through Friday. Six days I will be away from my family, and while it will be nice to sleep through the night (fingers crossed my insomnia allows me that luxury), and care for just me, I am going to miss them terribly. This new tumor in my spine comes just a couple months after treating the tumor that grew in my eye. Developing new tumors while on treatment is never a good sign and the nurse in me can't help but feel like this is the beginning of the end. I shouldn't be surprised, I guess, it is after all a year and a half into a 3 year diagnosis. But when I think about how quickly this past year and a ha

I realized today just how much of my life now revolves around sitting and waiting, for a test, for chemo, for a consult, for surgery, for follow-up. So much of the past year and a half since I was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer has involved sitting and waiting, and wishing. Wishing this wasn't happening to my sweet little family, wishing our "vacation" was under better circumstances, wishing that 2 minute appointment had been done over the phone.  All this wasted time is ironic considering I've been given 3-5 years to live, my time is precious! And yet I sit and wait, and wish, on a monthly basis (every 3 weeks at least). Perhaps even more so since I live in rural northern Ontario. Today, for example, I had an MRI for which I had to travel an hour and a half away from my home. They tell you to show up 20 minutes early, but as usual they ran almost an hour late. The test took an hour and then I had the hour and a half drive back home. I cut it close too ,

...and realize; I'm not as gracious as I wish I were. I'd like to be one of those people who sees the silver lining in everything, who is given a terminal cancer diagnosis and just chooses to live everyday to the fullest, carpé diem. When I was first diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer in my bones, and given only 3-5 years to live, I suffered A LOT of insomnia (and not just because I had a new born) and I remember searching to find someone in a similar situation. One night I stumbled upon a story about a women with children who talked about how her impending death made her a more present mom and how a year on she lives for her kids and makes the most of it. That's great, and around my kids I keep it together (usually) but can I just be honest for a second here, with you? Knowing I'm going to die and leave behind two very young kids f#@*!%* sucks! And bone cancer hurts, everywhere, all the time. And sometimes I really just want to sit and cry about the sh*t luck I

Well, it's been a crazy couple of weeks.  First off, my baby girl started school! Ready for her first day of school She took the bus home How did that happen? It seems like she was just born and now POOF she's in school! I'm so glad I was here and able to bring her to school, able to snap a few pictures that someday she can look back on. I know I will miss many "firsts" so for me it was that much more momentous an occasion. Last week also marked the first week mommy and Aiden were home alone together. For the past 16 months I've had my husband here to help with all the heavy lifting (carrying baby to and from the car, up the stairs, out of the tub...) but Daddy went back to work last week and for the first time since my diagnosis it was all me, all day. I know, you're thinking "so what, that's parenting", but wow, how different things are when you add the physical limitations that come with bone cancer. When I had Ellie it was a

As I sit here and see @Layla'sArmy post about childhood cancer and the #worthmorethan5 campaign, I am reminded of something; At my funeral and "in my honour", please don't give money to the cancer society or breast cancer relay, or whatever branded charity you think I would support because I have cancer. Here me out, I'm not saying don't support your local cancer center or it's clients, I'm saying don't fund CEO's vacation homes, hyped up publicity events and inexcusable amounts of swag (you know, the promo t's, and pens and visors...) that just ends up in a landfill. If you really want to help those who are claimed to benefit from those charities, then donate money directly to your local hospital or cancer center. You can see if they need donations for things like parking passes, so patients don't have to pay to receive their chemo every week. If you know someone personally, watch their kids for free, cook for them. If it's mor

We are back home now after 6 days in the big city of Toronto. When we left we thought we were just going for 3 days and we talked about how nice it would be to have some time to ourselves. We joked about what a dream it would be to sleep through the night, eat a meal uninterrupted, and perhaps the simplest joy, just to be able to talk to each other.  We had a good chuckle at the irony of our "dream" getaway, since the pretense was a tumor growing in my left eye. My husband and I have learned to find some humor in our nightmare situation. After meeting the oncologist at Princess Margaret Hospital and learning that he would start radiation right away I felt relieved that treatments wouldn't be delayed any further but I also felt guilty leaving my kids (3 & 1) for 6 days, the longest we've ever left them. Thank goodness for moms/ nanas! Six days away from the kids was admittedly a very nice break, sleep being my favourite  part.  We got to live the dream, even if it

Radiation Mask Yesterday I had my appointment at Princess Margaret Hospital, today I started radiation. This is the 4th time I've had radiation, in 2011 I had 3 weeks of radiation to my left breast, in May 2018 my right shoulder, spine and pelvis were radiated, and once it healed from surgery, my right femur received 5 rounds of radiation in July 2018. Today I had the first of 5 rounds of radiation to my left eye. The beam goes out the right eye which I'm told will prevent cancer in my right eye. We had planned to spend only 3 days in Toronto, now we're staying 7. So let's enjoy a radiation vacation! Nana is watching the kids (thank you, mom!), so we get to sleep through the night, wake up when it feels right, then enjoy each others company all day, uninterrupted. A much needed rest, and some time to reconnect with my husband, the silver lining to having radiation therapy. Radiating my left eye.

Around this time last year my husband and I met with a child and youth worker from NEOFACS to discuss how we would talk to Ellie about death. It was the most difficult meeting I've ever had to sit through. My biggest worry this whole time has been how my death will affect my children, and the reality of our situation was all too harsh sitting there talking to this woman about how we prepare a 3 year old for her mother's death. We decided to start by just talking about death in general, what happens, that it's natural, and it's permanent. We also emphasized our family bonds and the connection we share that is forever ("The invisible string" was one of the books recommended). We would wait until the time when my treatments stopped working and the cancer was spreading to talk about MY death specifically. In the first few months thoughts of my untimely death were overwhelming and constant. I've never cried so much in my life (and I'm a bit of a sap!)

A lot has happened over the past year. When I think back two, two and a half years, I'm saddened. I was active, we hiked and canoed and camped in a tent. We went ice fishing and treked across the frozen lake in winter. I wore my daughter in a wrap or carrier and shoveled our huge driveway, cooked and cleaned. I had no problem carrying her in her car seat with a diaper bag. I could lift her onto my shoulders in one smooth motion, and sitting on the floor to play with her was nothing. Fast forward to present day and while I've made progress from when I first came home last May, my mobility is seriously hindered. The fracture in my humerus was left to heal on its own (surgery would mean major downtime and a permanent strength deficit, I wouldn't be able to lift more than 5 lbs! Not doable with a baby and a preschooler) so I can't lift my arm over my head, hell, I get stuck in my clothes when I'm undressing! The rod in my leg stops me from being able to rotate my leg

My name is Jenn. I am a registered nurse, a wife, and a mother. My kids are 3 and 1. In May 2018, I was 7 and a half months pregnant when I suffered a fractured femur and a fractured humerus, they were caused by large tumors in the bones. My son was delivered by emergency c-section 6 weeks premature. The very next day I had a metal rod inserted in my leg to stabilize the fracture and the day after that I started radiation to shrink the tumors in my arm, ribs, spine, and pelvis. (Radiation to the leg would be delayed while the surgical site healed) Doctors told me my cancer was terminal, and gave me 3-5 years to live. It's been just over a year now since my life was turned upside down.  Everyday is a struggle and a tiny victory. This is my journey, join me. Leaving the hospital