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When I started this blog, my intention was to recount my journey through hormone-positive breast cancer as well as the BRCA1 gene mutation. I had big plans to raise money for those in need, share personal testimonies about what cancer has been like for me, offer tips and tricks I’ve tried, and share things I think will help others. I intended to share the ups and downs I faced over the last few years.

While these are still my goals, unfortunately, this past tense blog will slowly turn present as my cancer has spread to my lungs, thrusting me into a stage 4 diagnosis.

Yup. I know. Fucking stage 4 metastatic breast cancer. Trust me – the shock hasn’t worn off. I am still awaiting the mother of all breakdowns to rain down upon me. Until then, I will try to find the silver linings, such as 20% off all my marijuana-related purchases at Pure Dakota for life. I will also focus more on my life with Lee and our pets, and plan out my garden for when we settle into our new home in July.

Let’s rewind a few months to give you an idea of how this all went down. It is December 2024, and I feel good, ready to take the reins and start a new life post-cancer. Though I am still on oral chemo medication and hormone blockers during this time, I am optimistic that after a year on them, my cancer may be gone. At this time, the creative bug was scratching, and I did what I’ve done every few years – updated my resume and cover letter to see what Fargo has to offer. To be clear, I love working at Drekker Brewing Company, but I also have a degree in journalism. I have always believed that if something speaks to me, I’ll apply – what can it hurt? And wouldn’t you know it, something stuck? I had an interview with a company in town that sounded right up my alley; Applying myself creatively, learning the ins and outs of the professional creative world, and trying something entirely new for me. I was motivated, empowered, and actually feeling confident because my hair was growing back, and I had an eyebrow again. A few days later, I was invited back for a second interview. Holy shit, I thought, could this really happen? Could I write for a living and make a decent paycheck doing so? As that day crept closer, I began to notice something unusual about my left breast; no, it’s not cancer…this time. My skin was turning red, irritated, and very hot. I took a shower, cleaned the area well, put on non-scented lotion and a THC topical that has helped with radiation pain, and then I headed off to bed.

As I awoke the next day, there was no change, good or bad, so I dragged my fatigued ass to work and monitored it throughout the day. Once I was home, I called my sister, Kim, who is an RN and has been my guiding light through all the medication and surgeries I have been through.

I explained my symptoms and described how unusual my skin felt; for context, I have no sensation in my left upper chest area, the upper middle left side, and the upper left area near my shoulder blade on my back. The back side of my upper left arm and armpit are numb and tingly, similar to when you’re sick, and the skin feels sensitive when touched. So, ya, I had no idea what was normal or really what the heck was going on with my body. Anyway, she told me to go to the walk-in immediately, so I did. I called Lee at work on my way and let him know I was going in.

I was in the ER for HOURS. Blood tests, x-rays, scans; you name it – I did it. After we finally had an answer, it was not the one I was looking for. I had a skin infection that required IV antibiotics. In other words, I was spending the night at the hospital. Fuck.

Before I left the Walk-In Clinic, I sent an email asking to reschedule my second interview because, of course, it was the next morning. I went home and packed up a few things, and Lee drove me to the “big” Sanford hospital—you know, the one that is missing giant gargoyles on top as it towers over I-94.

After I got situated in my room, Lee ensured I had everything I needed, and he went home to take care of our pets. I was given IV antibiotics and fluids throughout the night. Bright and early, I was woken up and shuttled around the hospital by a very ripe-smelling attendant to get a CT scan. After the wildest and zippiest wheelchair ride through the hospital, I arrived safely back in my room, even if a little dizzy.

I took this opportunity to change and get ready for the day while still rehearsing what I would say tomorrow for my rescheduled interview. That’s when my phone alerted me. -Ping!–

You have new results from your recent scan.

Now that we knew it was an infection of the skin, I wasn’t worried, but I was still curious about what was happening, so I picked up my phone and logged on to the app. As I read the impressions, it says:

1. Skin thickening from radiation likely caused the infection.

2. There is a new, 10mm spiculated nodule in the right upper lobe. (If any of you play the Sims, the first thing I thought of was reticulating spleens, ha! You have to find humor where you can, even if it is profoundly inappropriate.)

Reading this, I knew it was bad, so I texted Kim the information I received and said, This doesn’t sound good. I figured I would base my emotional response on Kim’s reaction to me because she knows medical jargon. The response was not the answer I was looking for. My cancer has spread to my right lung. FUCK! FUCK!! FUCK!!! FFUUCCKK!

I found this information out alone, in an empty room in a busy hospital. Eventually, a doctor came in and talked to me, confirming my fears. At this point, I have a fuzzy memory, but I will explain the best way I can.

First, I burst into tears, just straight ugly crying, snot running, the whole nine yards. After I collected myself, the doctor discussed why I was in the hospital. Things look good, but they want to keep me for another day. NOPE! That simply was. Not. Happening. I had that second interview in the morning!

The nurses did their job, and they really, really tried to get me to stay. Still, they were able to give me one more round of IV antibiotics before I ultimately left. It was wild. I even offered to come back after the interview, but thankfully, that was not necessary.

The next morning, I killed the interview. I just knew I had the job when I walked out. Guys, when they offer you water, TAKE IT! But then again, don’t because you would be a selfish team player.

After I left, I was on cloud nine! I knew I aced the interview and was ready to start my new post-cancer life. Forgetting for one moment that I didn’t have cancer that just spread to my right lung.

Fifteen minutes after I got home and changed, my phone rang. I GOT THE JOB! Holy shit! I was ecstatic! I cried! Finally, I was being validated as a creative person, not just as a hobby but as a career. This was it. It was my time, and I wasn’t going to let anything stop me.

Except cancer…

After initially agreeing to the job, a slow fear crept over me, as did another test result. It was official. I did not have lung cancer, but my breast cancer did metastasize to my right lung. I had no idea what treatment looked like, I had no idea how long it would take, or if I would be out of commission and for how long?

Unfortunately, this meant I had to turn down the job. What the actual fuck is my life?! EVEN THE GOOD THINGS ARE BAD!

They were fantastic about the situation and empathetic to my illness and the trouble it brought. I mean, my god, who else has a life so traumatic as mine? Who the fuck did I insult in a past life?

I was very hesitant to post this because I did not want to cause issues; applying for a job while currently employed can be tricky, but I was reminded of something my current boss once said to me, ‘You don’t owe us anything, if this is what you want to do, go for it!’

I have felt immense guilt over the decision to leave Drekker at that time because they took a chance on me when I needed it, and I didn’t want to disappoint them, but this is my life, right?! So, I gotta forge the path I want, not the one everyone else wants for me.

So I did.

Typically, this is where I would leave off, but you’re getting double the fun today!

For the second half of my post, I will highlight nurses who made a difference in my recovery.

Think back to October 2023; insert wavy arms and fingers like in Wayne’s World.

It is my last day of chemo, my aunt Laura is there with me, and I am all sorts of jacked up! I can’t wait to have my hair back, and I can’t wait to feel better, and no more IV Chemo! FUCK IV CHEMO!!

As we walk out into the lobby where I am going to ring the bell, I see a small blond child, not uncommon, I know, but then I see another lankier one and think, are those my nephews?! Their mom, my younger sister Katy, and the third blond boy were not far behind. How exciting they came to celebrate! AND THEN MY WHOLE TEAM AT DREKKER BREWING COMPANY SHOWED UP WITH SIGNS AND LOVE AND ENCOURAGEMENT! It was an absolute love fest, and then we took it back to the brewery, where we raised a few pints in celebration.

Who walks away from that?! Lord knows I didn’t want to, but I wouldn’t have grown as I wanted to there, which is okay. It’s okay to have a different vision for your future; comfort only gets you so far before you have to break out and do something completely new, or you’ll never know what’s out there. After all, that is how I got both my current gigs.

ANYWAYS…Chemo was over, and I was SO relieved. Now, just surgery and then radiation—no big deal, a walk in the park, right?! RIGHT?!

Wrong. But first, Ruby.

It was a fall afternoon. I was extra chipper because today Lee and I were going to Fertile, Minn., to adopt a kitty. Two years prior, we had lost his 16-year-old best friend, Katrina, so when we finally agreed the time was right, and the cat was one we liked, we wasted no time getting her.

Once Lee arrived at the adoption place, I had gotten sick shortly before we were about to leave, so Lee graciously offered to go alone; we found out the kitty we wanted was ill and, therefore, not adoptable at the moment. Before he left, he checked out the other cats they had for adoption and oversauntered Godiva. An American long-haired cat, I am totally guessing, deep brown in color, with streaks of white on her chest and tummy. She dove into Lee’s arms, and from that moment on, she has been the best thing for Lee and me during these trying times.

We call her Nurse Ruby, and she needed us just as much as we needed her. She was a wild gal, partying in the woods and getting into trouble. The second she came into our home, she was the queen. She lay with me daily, cuddling and cleaning me as if I were her baby, and giving me the comfort only a pet can provide, unconditional love. Still, you might not get that from a cat.

From the moment we met, she knew I was sick, and she never left my side when I was really ill. She cleaned me and found a new, comfy spot on my chest. I began to call her Nurse Ruby because, to this day, when I am sick, she comes and lies on my stomach and cleans my face. She also provides my stoic man, Lee, with soft cuddles and comfort when he needs it.

Okay, okay, it’s time for the Wayne’s World time travel fingers again.

The date is Nov. 16, 2023, my birthday. I am up at the ass crack of dawn because I have my double mastectomy today. No lie, it was this day or Nov. 30. My plastic surgeon has a conflict on Nov. 30. As if having the cancer gene wasn’t enough, let’s add insult to injury and have a life-changing event on my 36th birthday. Say what you will, but my birthday is for me; unless we are hella swamped, I take the day off work. It’s a special day when I focus on myself.

But, as we always do, Lee and I took it on the chin and did the damn thing. Chemo was traumatizing, but this was on a whole ‘nother level. Lee and I set up in our pre-surgery room, and he helped me get ready. I had only had one other surgery before this, and that was getting my port placed into my chest for IV chemo. If you know me even a bit, you have to wonder how that is possible. I have had MANY sets of stitches but no surgery, so I was scared; this was a major surgery, and I didn’t have an option; I would die unless I stopped the spreading, and this was the best option.

Finally, it was time to go. Lee gave me a reassuring smile, kissed me goodbye, and told me he loved me as they wheeled me out of the room in tears. Once in the surgery room, I was moved from my bed to a cold metal table with only a sheet and a small pillow. By this point, I was bawling. I was terrified of what they would do, how I would feel, and what I would look like in the future. Then one of the surgical nurses put her hand on mine and said, “I know you are scared because you don’t do this every day, but we do. We will take good care of you.” Then I faded out, tears still staining my cheeks as they began to cut me open. I will never forget those words; I will never forget how she changed everything with a few small words and a kind gesture. What hurts the most is that I don’t even know who she is. So badly, I want to say thank you to her. I’ve had to be brave for a long time. Much longer than this cancer. My mom passed away last year from Early-onset Alzheimer’s disease. When she was diagnosed, I was absolutely crushed; that was in 2017, she was 52. (I plan to blog about this experience in the future.)

So, to have the complete picture of what I have been dealing with and to not have that mother comfort in a time I so desperately needed it, so for this nurse to go out of her way to calm me down when my life was falling apart, is something I will never forget.

Alright! I’m stopping here. Next time, I will share more of my favorite nurses with you!

Thank you for coming along with me on this fucked up journey. My life is like this; it’s no joke. More stories to come, good, bad, or otherwise.

-KB