This fundraiser is for my best friend, partner in crime, and the best sister-in-law in the world. This is in her words about what she is going through, but the real issue is she has no insurance and the prepays for the testing, visits, and hospital stays are outrageous. Just one is over $4000.
Well… I had my big oncology appointment yesterday, and in true “me” fashion, I don’t do anything halfway. Apparently, I have a rare cancer… that decided to level up and become even rarer by being HER2-positive. Because why be basic?
So here’s the plan (or as I call it, Operation Evict the Boob Gremlin):
I’ll be getting a port placed soon because this aggressive nonsense isn’t getting the slow treatment. (Despite insurance canceling me…jerks!)
I’ll start chemo + two fancy antibodies (bougie cells get bougie meds), 12–18 treatments depending on how well my body cooperates and whether it decides to act like a diva.
After that, I’ll stay on antibody therapy for a full year, because clearly I needed another long-term commitment.
Surgery comes next, aka the official eviction notice for the freeloading mass.
Oh, and side effects? Yeah, not thrilled. Chemo might be “mild,” but I still might lose my hair — again. And when it grows back? Total mystery box. Last time it thinned out and POOF overnight became darker and curly. This time? Could be straight. Could be wavy. Might be white! Might come back looking like I lost a bet with a bottle of peroxide in a wind tunnel. I’ll need votes in the comments below on what my regrowth will look like. Winner gets a prize — what prize? Who knows! But it’ll be something.
Sadly, no swimming this summer, so I’ve asked Illinois to please keep its weather appropriately depressing so I don’t feel left out while everyone else is out there cannonballing in freedom.
And brace yourselves: NO alcohol for the next year. Which means my wine and White Russian days are officially on pause. (Anyone who knows me knows I love a good White Russian once in a while to unwind.) So please — have one for me. When you do, send me a pic and let me know how amazing it was so I can live vicariously.
Meanwhile, insurance is being its usual charming self, and I’ll probably be fighting them until the end of time. (Add them to my villain origin story.)
I am worried about my kids and husband — but I told them not to stress, because I’m doing enough of that for all of us.
I did ask the oncologist if I’d be okay for New York Fashion Week in September to watch my youngest daughter strut her stuff in Times Square — and he said I should be fine. So if I show up bald and tired, just know I’m starting a new trend and pretending it’s haute couture.
Also — for everyone involved in “Knobloch…KnoWHAT?!” — Yes, I’m still working on the documentary. Cancer or not, I’m still committed to making it happen. You didn’t think a rogue boob was going to stop me, did you?
Bonus: I’ll be totally ready for Halloween this year. (If you know me, you’re laughing already.)
Any tips or stories from fellow warriors are more than welcome. Just don’t tell me to stay positive — I already am. I’m also sarcastic, sassy, and way too stubborn to let this crap win.