Seven Years of MBC

July 18, 2026

I’ve been thinking about how to frame this update. The short version is that everything is fine at the moment. I changed medications in April and my scans and bloodwork show that the presence of cancer in my body has decreased.

For this I am extremely grateful.

I also know that I’ve been amazingly fortunate. This month marks 7 years since I receive my metastatic breast cancer (MBC) diagnosis. I’m quite certain I’ve had it longer than that – it was misdiagnosed for at least 9 months before that.

While the statistics of how long you can live with MBC are outdated, 7 years is pretty notable.

The longer I live with MBC and stay involved with MBC advocacy, the more people I meet from across the U.S. and around the world. The number of people I know who have died from MBC in the first half of 2026 alone is too many to count.

Why me? Why was I diagnosed with this? Who knows. Why am I still alive? Unclear. Why do I respond pretty well to most medications? No one has a good answer. Why can I tolerate medications better than almost anyone else I know with MBC? Unknown.

What I do know is that I am fortunate and yes I’m going to use the word privileged.

It’s a known fact that people with higher incomes have better insurance and get better health care treatment in the U.S.

It’s a known fact that more money is spent on breast cancer research than any other kind of cancer, resulting in better understanding and treatment options.

It’s a known fact that non-White individuals with MBC have poorer outcomes.

It’s a known fact that people who live in rural areas fare worse than those that live in urban areas.

I have a professional job that allows me to set my own schedule, work from home and take better care of myself than if I were an hourly employee working retail.

I am educated enough to understand how to read medical publications and understand the biology of this disease which helps inform my approach to living with it.

For all of these things I am grateful.

I will never be grateful for having cancer, I will never call it a “gift”.

Cancer is a thief. It robs you of your life. You are faced with creating a new one. If you are lucky enough you can create something like a new normal. Many people are not that lucky.

I plan my life in 3 month increments. At the same time, I have long term goals. I will be attending Maddy’s college graduation in 2029. I will be visiting Evelyn in whatever city she ends up working. I will celebrate my 60th birthday.

I have a positive attitude because I don’t see any other choice.

We are all dealt a hand of cards. Unfortunately, one of mine is cancer. It does not define me, but it shapes me. It shapes my family and impacts my friends.

For 7 years I’ve been providing updates on my situation. I realize that may seem odd and counter to the diagnosis and prognosis.

I live everyday knowing that today could be the day the cancer mutates and outsmarts the medication. That is a heavy load to carry.

In some ways I and my family have a terrible situation. In other ways, are living a life others can only wish for.

We all have one life and we choose everyday how we want to live it.

I choose to work to make the world a better place. I choose to help others understand what MBC is. I choose to support my MBC sisters and brothers by providing peer support. I choose to support science by being a research advocate. I choose to live life to the fullest and embrace each day as an opportunity.

I choose life.

How much life I have and how much life you have is not known. No one is guaranteed tomorrow, make the most of today.

Onward.