It’s been a month since I got the official news that I have terminal recurrent metastatic breast cancer. Terminal is a word I’ve never used until recently. 

I’m working to acknowledge that it’s very likely that breast cancer will be the cause of my death. 

Since my first breast cancer diagnosis in October 2004, I’ve made a concerted effort to do everything “right” to prevent another cancer diagnosis. My current oncologist, Dr. Jocelin Huang, who I’ve been seeing since 2013, confirms that my lifestyle behaviors are about as good at cancer prevention as one could hope to implement. If nothing else, I do my research and I follow through with disciplined consistency. 

The cancer still came back. 

With a bit of a vengeance. As I’ve mentioned, I’ve made the decision to live for the quality of my days, not the quantity of days I might still have. That decision means that it’s very likely I only have at most two years left in this body. My intuition says it will be less than that. As I’ve said before, I am open to magic and miracles. 

Three words came to me the other night when I woke up worrying about how to get everything done before I die. I wrote down the words and thankfully was able to do a deep breathing meditation, and I fell back asleep with relative ease. 

Here are the words and what they mean to me at this moment. 

Grace

To give oneself grace or to give someone grace means to accept oneself or someone without them or you having to earn acceptance or kindness. Simply because the person or you exists they can be given grace. I’ve been making a concerted effort to give myself grace as I grapple with this new reality I am carrying every day. 

On Monday, I had a 1.5 hour meeting in my apartment at my yellow table with the nurse and director of the community hospice and home health care of Our Lady of Peace. Lindsey came to me and she listened to me recount the highlights and lowlights of my life. This is valuable information for the hospice team she will assign me to know and understand about who I am and how I live. And importantly, how I want to die. 

Lindsey’s listening skill was impressive. She didn’t take notes. She simply listened closely, asking clarifying questions while maintaining clear, connected eye contact as she absorbed my story. Her listening and acceptance felt like she was giving me grace. 

After she left, I was overwhelmed with our meeting. Lindsey acknowledged that I would very immediately qualify for hospice services. My diagnosis of recurrent metastatic breast cancer is what qualifies me. The more people who know my diagnosis and affirm this reality brings it home. Death is hovering very close around me. 

I got in bed and cried hard. I wasn’t able to get any of my work done. Instead of berating myself for not “pulling myself together” I gave myself grace. 

My dear friend Monica came over and together we walked Sam around the block, seeking shade as the temp was over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Talking and sharing with Monica calmed my nervous system. Reminding me of the love that surrounds me. I was able to eat one of my salad jars before hosting my regular writing sessions. 

Gratitude

My awe, gratitude and amazement are moving through me from the center of the Earth bursting forth through my body and soul into the stars. I am feeling the love and kindness flowing toward me in ways I’ve never previously been able to feel. It is stunning and beautiful.  

The GoFundMe campaign organized by Katy and Linda has raised more than $20,000 in about three weeks. No two ways about it WOW!

This campaign is to fund my wish to go to Ireland. It’s a wish I’ve held close to my heart for most of my life. As we’ve raised so much, exceeding even my secret wish amount, the funds will go to help me realize other bucket list items. 

Throughout my life, I’ve limited my wishes. I’ve struggled with finances and I learned early not to ever want or wish for much. 

Now that I’m nearing the end of my days in this human body, I’m letting myself dream and as I do my daily meditations, I’m asking myself what do I most want to do and experience in this human body while I have it. As I discover what comes to me, I will keep you all posted. On the GoFundMe page, Linda and Katy helped me think of wise things to do with the additional funds. I’m not a frivolous person with money, so I’m enjoying thinking of wise things to do with the funds. Thank you. Having a little cushion feels really good. Already I bought a new bed for Sam my dog.

Over 206 people, both on GoFundMe and through making direct donations to me through Venmo, sending me checks in the mail or handing me $100 bills at the track, have raised that much money. The Ireland dream is about to become a reality. 

I booked the flights! 

I’m heading to the Emerald Isle on October 6th and I will be there through October 24th. Eighteen days of travel, exploring magic and delight. 

My longtime writing friend Shirlene will join me for the first part of the trip. My two dear friends, Jenny and Marie, who are part of the group we call Athlete5, will join me for the second part of the trip.

Trip planning has begun in earnest. I’m talking to friends and colleagues who have been to Ireland to get their top recommendations. I’m talking to my cousin Scott who knows a lot about the genealogy of the Ruddy’s in Ireland to figure out places to go where my family is from. My sister Maureen has info about the Irish from my mother’s side of the family. Both Scot and Maureen know of people still alive in Ireland I’m related to. I’m going to do my best to meet up with them while I am there. 

To all of you who have donated, THANK YOU. Your kindness and generosity deeply touch my soul.  

Grief

Grief is a process. A visceral wrenching often difficult process. I describe grief in my book Extreme Healing on page 21. 

Since getting this metastatic diagnosis on July 2nd, I’ve been spiraling around the main emotions and stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. There are days I go through all the stages. My nervous system feels like I’m riding a roller coaster. 

My mentor and former therapist Kylea Taylor suggested in a recent phone call that perhaps I was grieving letting go of a life of suffering. If you’ve followed along with my book and in this blog, I’ve alluded to all the suffering I’ve had the opportunity to experience this lifetime. 

Now I can let that all go. 

Granted, dying from cancer is no easy death path to take, so I might get the chance to suffer some more before this life comes to a close. I plan to take lots of deep breaths and get lots of support as I ease into this last stretch of my life. 

Thank you for reading this post and for continuing to be someone who cares and is in my life. It means the world to me to feel you all with me as I walk this path. 

I do have one more ask of each of you. If you’re so moved, please add to the words of support and appreciation that we are gathering. The intention is to have these words put into a book with any photos you send along. My friend Tanya is going to make this book. Friends will read it to me when I’m in the final days of hospice. 

Appreciations link