On September 24th, I received my official diagnosis of soft tissue Ewing Sarcoma, a rare and aggressive type of cancer.
A month after giving birth in October of 2023, I noticed my left shoulder blade was protruding — something I suspected was a side effect of pregnancy, childbirth, and carrying around my daughter, Sophia. After an orthopedic x-ray, I was cleared as normal, and although cautious, I trusted it was a minor “winged scapula.”
Fast forward nine months — during a family vacation, a healing massage therapist pointed out that there was a mass on top of my shoulder blade and that I should probably get a second opinion. After four months filled with doctors, tests, emotions, prayers, and a bit of denial, I was diagnosed.
My treatment was intense and debilitating. It consisted of 14 cycles of two different types of chemo — VDC and IE. VDC lasted two days, IE was five days, and the treatment days were LONG. Eight hours+ in the hospital was so difficult, both mentally and physically. Even the sound of hospital monitors made me queasy, and it was hard to even enjoy a simple show.
After Cycle 6, I had a successful surgery in Boston. My doctor was able to fully remove the mass and achieve clean margins, even into the muscle and bone. It was a huge turning point — I felt a sense of freedom knowing the tumor was officially gone.
But my journey wasn’t over. I still had eight grueling treatments ahead of me, and they were anything but easy. My blood counts often couldn’t recover in time, causing delays in chemo. What was supposed to wrap up in early May kept getting pushed into June, and the finish line started to feel further and further away.
One of the biggest challenges was being a mom to a toddler while trying to hold onto a sense of “normalcy” during my recovery weeks.
There was nothing I wanted more than the strength to play with my daughter — but many days, all I could manage were cuddles and cartoons on the couch. Naturally, that came with some “mom guilt,” but I remind myself that Sophia is still young, and one day she’ll look back and see me as her superhero.
June 26th, I rang the bell. A day I thought would never come.
I remember calling my best friend, crying back in September, saying, “I can’t do it. Eight-hour, weeklong infusions. I can’t do it. I have a baby.” But I did it! I wish I could give that girl a hug.
The love and support I’ve received this year has been unmatched and the level of care I received at Atrium far exceeded any expectations. I’m so grateful for my team of doctors and nurses.
The phrase “cancer free” is used cautiously with Ewing Sarcoma due to high risk of recurrence and the possibility of undetectable cancer cells in the bloodstream. But I’ve never felt more free. Cancer free, chemo free, and full of gratitude.
I’m soaking in every moment of this milestone, knowing the journey doesn’t end here. There’s still healing ahead, 10+ years of scans, and uncertainty in the mix — but today, I’m celebrating.
