I realized it’s been a little while since I’ve shared a real health update. Part of that is because not much has changed, but somehow everything has. Life with metastatic cancer isn’t always marked by huge milestones. More often than not, it’s a series of medication adjustments, new symptoms, appointments, and trying to figure out what your body is going to throw at you next.
I’m still receiving Enhertu, and thankfully we’ve been able to continue treatment. Right now, though, the bigger challenge has been everything that comes along with my brain metastases. We’ve been trying to find the right combination of medications to manage the swelling, and it has been much more difficult than I expected. Every change seems to come with a compromise. One medication helps one problem but causes another, so we adjust again and hope this is the combination that finally gives me some relief.
The swelling has been one of the hardest things to manage because it’s responsible for so many of the symptoms I’m dealing with. Over the past few weeks I’ve started noticing floaters in my left eye that weren’t there before. At first I kept blinking, convinced there was something in my eye, but they never disappeared. They’re another reminder that brain metastases don’t just exist on a scan. They affect everyday life in ways that are difficult to explain unless you’ve lived through it yourself.
I’ve also been dealing with ear pain, jaw pain, headaches, and a level of fatigue that sleep just doesn’t fix. My brain feels slower some days. I lose words in the middle of conversations, forget what I was about to do, or need to stop and rest after doing something that used to be second nature. There are mornings when I wake up and can tell within minutes that it’s going to be a hard day. The pressure is there before my feet even hit the floor, and I know my plans for the day are probably going to change.
The hardest part is the unpredictability. I never really know which version of myself I’m going to wake up as. Some days I can work on The Village, answer emails, write, and almost convince myself that life feels normal again. Other days my body decides it has other plans, and just getting dressed or making it to the couch feels like enough.
I think that’s one of the things people don’t always see about metastatic cancer. Treatment is only one small part of it. The rest of life happens in between infusions. It’s managing medications, chasing side effects, waiting for appointments, watching for new symptoms, and trying not to let every ache or change send your mind spiraling. Living with brain metastases means constantly wondering whether something is just another side effect or something that needs immediate attention. That uncertainty is exhausting.
I’ll be honest, there are days when I feel incredibly frustrated. I’m 28 years old, and instead of worrying about what most people my age are worrying about, I’m trying to manage swelling around my brain and hoping my vision doesn’t get any worse. There are moments when I grieve the life I thought I’d have. The version of me that didn’t know what an MRI schedule looked like, didn’t organize her life around treatments, and didn’t have to think twice about making plans weeks in advance.
But even in the middle of all of that, there is still so much worth holding onto.
Working on The Village has reminded me that purpose can exist alongside pain. Every business that says yes, every organization that wants to be involved, every person who shares the event or reaches out to help reminds me why I started all of this in the first place. If my experience can make someone else’s journey feel even a little less lonely, then every difficult conversation and every long day has meant something.
I don’t know what the next few months will bring. I don’t know if the next medication adjustment will finally be the right one or if we’ll have to keep trying. I don’t know if the floaters will improve or if new symptoms will come along. What I do know is that I’m still here. I’m still fighting. I’m still writing. And as long as I have the ability to share this journey, I will continue to do exactly that, because I know there are people reading this who understand these feelings in ways that many others can’t.
Thank you for continuing to walk beside me. Thank you for every message, every prayer, every comment, every donation, every share, and every moment you’ve spent cheering me on. There are days when your kindness carries me farther than my own strength ever could, and I’ll never stop being grateful for this community we’ve built together.
With love,
Izzy & Mojo 🐾
Before You Go…
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📝 The Blog is where I share the honest reality of living with stage IV metastatic cancer. You’ll find treatment updates, personal stories, thoughts that are hard to say out loud, and the moments in between that don’t always make it onto social media.
🎗️ Resources is a growing collection of information for patients, caregivers, and loved ones. My hope is to build the kind of resource library I wish I’d had when this journey first began.
🏡 The Village is a passion project that has become so much bigger than I ever imagined. It’s a community event designed to connect cancer patients, survivors, caregivers, and families with local organizations, support services, businesses, and people who genuinely want to help. Cancer takes a village, and I hope this event becomes exactly that for our community.
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Thank you for being here. Thank you for choosing to walk this road with me and Mojo. It means more than you’ll ever know.
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