The thoracic vertebrae sit in the middle of your spine between the cervical (neck) and lumbar. There are 12 thoracic vertebrae and they are the only ones to support ribs. They are labelled T1 to T12.
I have metastatic breast cancer in my T3, which sits between my shoulder blades.
This is my first attempt at drawing a realistic vertebrae, so it definitely isn’t perfect. This is one without cancer. I don’t know what my one looks like exactly: a little growth somewhere in there.
80% of spinal cancers are secondary, ie they originated in a different part of the body, and are therefore terminal.
I also have a cancer in the cervical vertabrae, C7, which sits at the base of the neck. It is also called vertebra prominens. There are 7 cervical vertebrae.
C7 controls the movement of the head and is closely linked to the use of arms and hands; although leg movement can also be affected if it is damaged. Serious damage to C7 can cause paralysis.
Cancer can grow in different parts of your vertebrae.
“Intradural-extramedullary tumor:
This type of tumor is located inside the thin covering of your spinal cord (dura) but outside of your actual spinal cord. Approximately 40% of all spinal tumors are in this area.
Intramedullary tumor:
This type of tumor grows inside of your spinal cord. Approximately 5% of all spinal tumors are in this area.
Extradural tumor:
This type of tumor is located outside your dura (the thin covering surrounding your spinal cord), which includes your vertebrae (the bones that form your spine). Approximately 55% of spinal tumors are in this area.”
After my diagnosis in July, I did not Google the life expectancy for my type of cancer; stage 4 metastatic breast cancer spread to the spine; as I would rather not know. Anyway, everyone is different and I am praying and hoping for miraculous healing.
But, I have been told that some people live 10 years of good quality life after diagnosis. I have also heard that 3 years is the average life expectancy.
Macmillan’s website confirms that some people live for several years, while the average is only 2 years! Two years… my daughter will only be 12 then. Which teenage girl can succeed without a mother? My son will probably be at uni. Will he be able to finish his course? Will my husband Mike be isolated after the kids have left home?
But, my oncologist said that I should be able to survive for ‘several’ years; that is dependent on my being able to stick to my (previously horrific) initial treatment plan, which now includes a newly discovered ‘wonder’ drug that shows good outcomes.
However, if I get half the side effects that I had on the drugs after my primary diagnosis, then I will not be able to cope with the treatment for more than a few months.
I have always believed that quality of life (incl. peace, some joy and being able to make happy memories with my kids) is more important than dragging my years out in some shadowy existence where I try desperately to not be consumed by extreme anxiety, anger and all-encompasing misery. It’s not a lot of fun.
In a (rather pathetic) act of hope, I have bought myself a 5 year journal. If I write in it every day, then I need to live for at least 5 years, right?
Having struggled to write a journal since my son’s death 4 years ago, this is a big step for me. Before that, I was fairly prolific since childhood. But only having a tiny amount of space to write in each day is so freeing, and sometimes I wish there was more space. 🙂
It feels good to carry out this tiny act of faith. And also my kids will be able to read it after my death, and find out what a boring person I really am. I know that I should write them both letters and diary entries about memories with them too, but at the moment that feels like too much pressure.
Although I am not afraid of dying, I am worried about abandoning my kids when they are so young, and my husband, who is so disabled by long covid. Who will remember to buy the milk when we run out and send birthday cards and gifts when I am gone?
There is a long list of things that I want to do while I am still physically able. But having limited money and energy makes it hard. I am not sure what I want to prioritise. I want to be selfish and buy books and art supplies, but also spend time with my family and give the kids some treats and happy memories before they become bereaved for a second time.
I want to go back to work soon, partly for normality and because I love the job, and partly because we need the money. But I can imagine how exhausted I will be then, so art and fun will be pushed to the side while I fight to keep going with work, housework, parenting, caring, life admin, treatment side-effects and becoming more poorly over time. It’s like a complicated puzzle, trying to fit all of the pieces together.
I hate puzzles: no matter how much you struggle to solve them, the outcome has already decided by someone else. And you probably lose a vital piece along the way.
“It is not death that a man should fear, but rather he should fear never beginning to live.”
I am generally a pretty calm and content person. I don’t spend a huge amount of time afraid, but recently have been worrying about many things.
My metastatic (secondary and therefore terminal) cancer treatment starts soon. Drawing about and ranking my fears has been helpful. Here is the current list, with biggest fear first.
Treatment side effects.
Paralysis.
Pain.
Death.
Future.
Money.
Burden.
Loneliness.
Boredom.
Mike and the kids are not a fear, but I do fear for them, more than myself. Especially when I become very ill and eventually die.
If you can pray, please pray for us? Thanks.
PS: Please don’t tell me to not be anxious. That is extremely unhelpful and judgemental. It also shows that you just don’t get it. Thanks. 🙂
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