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If you have children under the age of 10 then you probably have watched the hit movie sensation, “Trolls,” and you probably have memorized the words to every single song on the soundtrack. I’ve joked that Poppy is like my spirit, but animated, that, “I Will Get Back Up Again” is my theme song. Haven’t heard it? Give it a good listen.

See what I mean? Reminds you of me, right? Me too. But it sort of feels like a game of Whack a Mole. The hits keep coming. I’m over here thinking, “But seriously, I’ll catch a break with this scan, right? Because the universe isn’t that cruel, is it?”

Well, let me tell you something, life sure as shit is that cruel. It’s a stone cold bitch.

It turns out that instead of “catching a break,” I will be heading to Dana Farber for a consult. Praying  Cautiously hoping for a clinical trial, and if that doesn’t work out, starting one of four new chemotherapies at the end of September. I’m lucky that there are so many treatment options. (Insert emoji with the straight line mouth)

I am pissed. I can’t even begin to unpack the amount of sarcastic remarks I want to make and I certainly don’t plan on giving away any material I’m I could use during my stand-up class at Vermont Comedy Club, but I don’t have a single positive thing to say. At least I’m funny.

The short story is that my pesky liver lesions that have always been shrinking, but never going away, have taken a turn in the opposite direction. That means they are growing. That’s right, they are getting bigger. What fresh hell is this? I have no pain or symptoms and, in fact, they aren’t even that big (3.2 centimeters is the largest) but what in the actual fuck?

Life sure does feel unfair right now!

So, at some point, I imagine Dana Farber will call me and give me an appointment in the next few weeks, and I’ll head there for the day to find out what is next. In ironic news, my dad urged me to go back to Dana Farber ever since my recurrence occurred AND he was with me the last time I went. So, this shouldn’t be traumatizing at all, right? No, I’ll be fine.

image1 (3)The real kicker is that I found all of this out on the First Day Of School for my adorable and resilient children. Can you actually believe that at some point I have to tell them about this? I have to devastate them, one more time, with news that I just have to keep taking medicine for a while longer to try and get rid of the cancer that just won’t quit. I’m going to try to preserve their ignorance for a few weeks and let them enjoy their first few weeks of school. There is no feeling quite like the weight of bad news that will hurt my children, yet I must tell them what is going on. Please refrain from sending loads of food to my home as that is a huge trigger for them.

I know what you are thinking, the children will be okay because they are strong, like their mom, and children are resilient. While I can appreciate the sentiment, I ask you this- why do my little kids have to be so frickin’ resilient? This is NOT fair. Are they building up resilience points so that when I do finally die they will be able to manage their emotions? They have handled the diagnosis, the treatment, the recurrence, the death of a close relative… What the fuck is next? Shouldn’t the children, at least, catch a break? Who is running this shit show anyway?

Honestly, I can’t even anymore.

This is not a call for help. This is a rant. This is what happens in my head when I get bad news. I don’t want or need anyone to encourage me to be positive right now. Sometimes, you just have to get the lead out, you know? Truly, I’m not surprised this is my news. This is par for the course. On the same day that I got this stellar news, I also received a quote for replacing the original windows in my 1890s home that we just bought. The quote is for $34,000. Are you fucking serious? For GD windows? Jim was like, screw windows, let’s go to Colorado and Aruba and I was like okay, but when I die, you and the kids need somewhere with windows to live, so let’s talk about a compromise. These are our conversations now.

broken iphone

Then, this morning guess what happened? I dropped my phone and the screen broke. Because of course it did, that’s why. FML.

So anyway, to summarize: Don’t bring me food. We’ll need it soon enough, so hold your horses. I really want to protect my children from this news for as long as I can! If you really want to help here are two ways to do it:

  1. Share the news of the Maggie Card with someone you know in Vermont that has cancer. Cards will be released on October 6th at the Women’s Health Conference at the Sheraton and we have tons of amazing sponsors on board! While you are at it, tell everyone you know to “like” Maggie’s Brightside Facebook Page.
  2. Tell a business about the Maggie Card and get them to become a sponsor!! We are taking ANY and ALL businesses. I want EVERYTHING from restaurants to pedicures to live music opportunities to adventure experiences! Send them to my website where they can fill out a Business Partner Form!

Lastly, I want to thank you all for always listening and for coming back again and again to read my story. It really means a lot to me and helps to fill me with hope and purpose. My new Chinese Medicine Practitioner says that despite the stage of my disease and the amount of chemotherapy I have had, I have a surprising amount of qi. Maybe I generate some of that on my own, but as you know, I believe in the power of love. And just like that, I’m quoting Huey Lewis and the News, so I’ll leave you with one more song…

And rant over.