Considering that I’m the person who overshares about absolutely everything, I find it slightly ironic that I have been dragging my feet on writing this particular post.
So, I should start, as my kids always say, with the Good News. And that is that I’m O.K.
I have trouble with some of the bigger details of this story, except for the beginning of it. The details of which are the most vivid. So that’s what you’re getting next.
Get yourself a cafecito and sit back. We’re going to be here a while. Also, don’t you think it’s funny that we Cubans are the only people that suggest having the strongest coffee in the world in order to relax? Just an observation.
Let me continue…
The Bad News and hence the title of this post is that I’ve had One Bad Year that started the day, June 6, 2018 to be exact, that I found a lump in a place where lumps do not belong. I thought that I had grown an extra rib at the top of my ribcage and just under my right breast. Like you do. (I know you’re rolling your eyes right now. Stop it immediately and let me explain.)
Denial, being strong and quick, and happens to run deeply in my family, jumped right in: “It’s probably nothing. You probably just grew an extra rib. Don’t even mention it to anyone.”
Because that’s a thing that happens in Denial Universe. You grow an extra rib all stealthlike and it’s nothing to worry about. (I know. Shut up.)
But the Cuban por-si-las-moscas side of me decided to tell a close friend that I meet with for coffee regularly. Like I just said, “por si las moscas.” (Literally translated: “in case of the flies.” Loosely translated: “Just in case.”)
“It’s probably nothing,” I said to her, because I am, apparently, a puppet minion of Denial.
She looked at me knowingly, and wisely said, “Let’s call your doctor right now and make an appointment. Just to make sure.” (Which in good Cuban translates to “por si las moscas.”) She definitely didn’t buy my “new rib” argument.
Also, if you’re ever writing a story like this, the big tip-off that something is weirdly wrong is how many words you have to put in quotes because Denial makes you sound pretty crazy. But that’s not important right now.
My doc thought “Maybe it’s a cyst, but you’re overdue to have a mammogram, so let’s get that done.”
So I marched over to our local Women’s Breast Clinic to have that overdue mammogram. Which seemed silly when obviously I had just grown an extra rib, so what was the big deal?
And that’s where the trouble began.
Of course, the very lovely fake-poker-faced technician didn’t reveal anything could even be wrong.
“Let’s do an ultrasound,” she suggested, in the same voice you’d say, “hey kids! Let’s play a game!” As if that’s what they do with all their patients in order to make the next procedure fun for all.
She called the doctor in. Who then proceeded to check the place where I had grown that extra rib and whose brows furrowed when she did. She then ultra-sounded side B. (I think it was indeed at this first appointment that I began naming body parts as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Don’t judge.) Dr. Furrowy Brow’s brow got furrowier. (<–is that a word?)
She brought back Fake Poker Face Tech who said, in her best Kindergarten Enthusiasm Voice: “Let’s do a 3D mammogram!” The only response to this much enthusiasm is, “Oh! Could we?”
Denial would not even let me entertain the thought that anything could be remotely wrong with all this quickly escalating peering into my chest.
After the 3D mammogram, Dr. Furrowy came back in, this time with a new serious faced person. She told me “something-something-something calcifications.” And “something-irregular-something else.” And “broke-out-so-let’s-discuss-treatment-options.”
Wait. What? Did she say, “calcium?” Like something to do with milk? That’s an odd thing to say.
I somehow went temporarily deaf at this point. So, I requested she speak to me plainly.
“You have malignant bi-lateral breast cancer and will need to follow up with biopsies to determine treatment options.”
Oh.
Yeah. No.
“No,” I replied, very calmly, “my people don’t get breast cancer.” I mean, I had to set that record straight immediately.
Dr. Furrowy got even more furrowy and as an added bonus, gave me a look of pity as she read the diagnosis and translated it for me.
Suddenly, everything changed.
I heard it all again at a super slow speed in a distorted monster-under-the-bed voice:
“I h a v e b r e a s t c a n c e r?”
Wait. Did she also use the word “malignant?”
What universe was I now in? Apparently I didn’t grow an extra rib. It was breast cancer. I started to slowly absorb this information.
The only word for cancer I had was “stupid.”
Eric and I stared at each other stupidly for a while until the tears began. I had (stupidly) thought I could handle it all on my own. But as we prayed together, I made the difficult (for me) decision to accept help, emotional and otherwise. And to trust my people.
I know how it sounds as I write this. But there’s that part deep in my lizard brain that thought I really could just handle this quickly and quietly and not bother anyone with it. Damn. Cuban woman fortitude goes deep.
The time came when I needed to tell the kids. I thought getting the diagnosis was awful. Telling it to my kids was the most difficult and emotional part of this for me. When I heard each of their voices on the other end of the phone, I would just melt in a puddle of tears. Each conversation was met with quiet. I hated that. I wanted to make this whole ordeal better and easier for them to handle.
But now they lived in a world where their mom had breast cancer. It felt like a really mean trick to play on them. I made a decision right then that cancer would not define me and that as much as possible I would try to keep my sense of humor through this One Bad Year.
The wonderful revelation in all of this was that I had raised four champions. I am proud to report that I gave birth to four magnificently empathetic, capable, and brave people. And they rose to this occasion, taking turns when they needed to, driving me to appointments, making dinners. All the things that used to be ordinarily simple that had suddenly become complex after the stupid words, “breast cancer” were spoken into our world and had turned it upside down.
The next few months were a blur of biopsies. (Not fun.) And MRI’s. (Also not fun.) And meeting with an oncologist. Denial kept trying to take back the reins. “It’s probably nothing.”
But appointment after appointment and test after test revealed that yes, indeed I did have bi-lateral (both sides) breast cancer and yes, indeed it was malignant. And I would need surgery to cut out the malignant parts. “Parts?”
The wisest advice I received (besides the one from my friend who made me call my doctor originally) was to take someone with me to all appointments because I would not be able to register what they were telling me.
Eric held my hand through the needle biopsies which were as awful as they sound.
Lucy took it upon herself to take me to the oncologist and ask all the pertinent questions. She had the wherewithal to tape all the things the oncologist said so she could accurately report back to the fam.
Adam and Alysha, who were 3,000 miles away in Alexandria, Virginia sent us a monthly subscription to Butcher Box, so that we wouldn’t have to worry too much about shopping. It was hardest on Adam because he was so far away and felt so helpless.
Amy brought Sebastian to me almost daily. And when they weren’t able to visit, we face-timed and said goodnight via smartphone.
Jon took me to appointments no son should have to take his mother to.
And my friends.
People, I have the best, most wonderful friends on the planet, who stayed in my face and made me feel loved right when I wanted to hide and feel sorry for myself. Prayers went out for my recovery all across the nation, in the UK, and in Africa. I count myself blessed that the people I have chosen to surround myself with are not only loving and loyal, but many of them are faitthful prayer warriors.
If you’ve read this far, I’m grateful. I’m just now seeing how long this post is. Not apologizing. Just observing.
The title: One Bad Year was what my friend, Jana (the one who made me call my doc and to whom I will be eternally grateful) said to me when I told her I had malignant (<–I really hate that word) bilateral breast cancer. “Well, you’re probably going to have One Bad Year. Prepare yourself for that.”
And so it has been.
I had what is called a “lumpectomy” where they remove only the cancerous cells. In other words, no more extra rib. Go figure. That was on Side A – It’s easier to follow along if the players have a name. Side B was just starting to break out, but it was everywhere. “Like lint in a shag carpet.” That paints quite a picture, doesn’t it?
So, I had the first surgery on August 15th, 2018. Surgery was around 6 hours and when I finally came to, I couldn’t walk. I could barely speak. And the pain was stupid. My brain was not able to try coming up with any other descriptive words.
I was barely coherent. Yet these barbarians wanted to send me home immediately. With drains coming out of some of the favorite parts of my body. Where are we? Medieval England? Would there be leeches and bloodletting next?
Yeah. No.
I talked them into letting me stay the night. Eric slept on the little pull out couch right next to me. What they never bothered to tell me was that they had injected a dye into me that would eventually come out in the best way your body knows to expel liquids. And that it was BLUE.
I don’t want you to picture me sitting in the bathroom, but for this particular scene, that’s where I found myself. Expelling a deep blue liquid. Think Star Trek Romulan Ale.
I wanted to tell everyone and yet, share this with no one. Because there are some things that should be kept private. Eric was the lucky one present at the time of this cataclysmic discovery. And now I’ve shared it with you all. Aren’t you the luckiest?!
I’m going to leave you with that visual for the moment and I’ll tell you the rest of the story in a day or two. Just writing about it this far has left me feeling some kind of way.
If you were really paying attention to my blog and to my social media starting in the summer of 2018 and continuing on into 2019, you will have noticed that I kind of disappeared from my own feed during this time.
I want to stress that I’m O.K. right now, but I still have more story to share. Thanks for hanging in here this far. Let me reiterate that cancer is stupid and I learned that it really helped to keep a sense of humor through what is a terrible, terrible ordeal.
More on the rest of my treatment in a day or two. If you were trying to follow a timeline, at the point of the Blue Romulan Ale situation, I’m only 4 months into my One Bad Year.
Stay tuned… Life is still in session.
#BeLikeMarta
Oh dear Marta, what a brave inspiration you are, as one whose favorite place is denial land, you’ve taught me how to exit when required. I am so grateful you are okay. Thank you for sharing, prayers, love and hugs. 🙏🏼♥️
All my love!
Dear Marti,
I’m so very sorry to learn about your ordeal. You have such a wonderful sense of humor to get you through this, as well as a phenomenal support system! I will keep you on my prayers! Love to you my friend, Missy
I’m so sorry to hear about you bad year. I’m thankful that you had family and friends that were there for you.
Thank you for sharing your story
❤️❤️❤️❤️
Marta you are part of a brave sisterhood now. Once again you have put into words the unbelievable whirlwind of emotions and events that come with a breast cancer diagnosis. It’s no surprise to me that your husband and kids were so incredible- you’ve shown us that side in every blogpost you’ve done. Mi hermana, I stand with you, having gone through the same wretched experience 3 years ago. Sending you a virtual hug now, and feel free to reach out if you need to, ok? You know – in case the flies…
Sweet Marta. Thanks for sharing and I’m glad you are ok. Sending up prayers for you always. Hugs and I did miss you on IG!! @_nancywyatt
I have no words. I can relate and pray and hold you in my heart my beautiful beautiful friend. You are covered in Gods grace. If you need me……
❤️❤️❤️sending love and hugs… I have a feeling that this story has a good ending. #CubanStrong
I had no idea…
And I’m so grateful you are “ok”.
Writing it out will (continue to) help you and others; thank you.
😘
Marta,
I did notice the silence on this blog and missed you. You are so very courageous, humorous and eloquent in your writing. Of course you would be most concerned about troubling your children and family. That’s your generosity of spirit. And they are each a part of you. So I’m running over to “Cachita” to pray for a full healing and eradication of “stupid” and that only the best doctors and nurses found themselves in your path. #CancerFree
A big hug and kiss, an additional Prayer Warrior.
Mucho cariño
You are one great brave woman….your story me toco el corazon, but I’m so happy and thankful that you came thru like the guerrera that you are….best wishes to you, Martha, may God bless you always!!!!
Many prayers to you. So thankful to God for the strength that you gain from your love ones. Bendiciones.
Martica my friend thank you for sharing your ‘rib’ story. I’m grateful that you are ok and still have the wonderful sense of humor that make us love you so much. God bless you and prayers will continue for your continued good health. #tqm
As a blessed soul that has gotten to hug you twice and exchange a bunch of pretty funny Cuban text exchanges that were hysterical and then got scary And way too close to our 2011 journey … I definitely swear that next to your name are those three words… Cuban Woman Fortitude! I only knew to draw the lessons that we learned with mom and try to spare you anything I could with knowledge or the mere fact that you could vent to someone who understood the road you and your family were on… and much like my own mami… you were a fighter and you won so gracefully and your way! Much love Martica! I’m so very proud of you ! It’s been a year long road and it finally has a beautiful landscape roadside for you to enjoy …. love ya- M.
Marta,
You can do this! What is one year? My Tia, my other mami, my heart, was diagnosed a few days before Christmas last year. It was really really bad. They basically gave her a death sentence. She wasn’t telling anyone either. She was just going to do it. Well, that wasn’t ok with her nieces, my sisters. Her daughter bowed out and was MIA, but the 3 of us decided that she would not be allowed to do it alone. We took her to doctor’s appts, one sister administered her meds, one made the doctors rounds, newborn in tow, I sold earrings on my website and facebook page to raise money for her and paid it directly to the doctor’s office to cover her co pays because I know her stubborn Cuban ass would refuse the money. She had a double mastectomy in March. She was just cleared and she’s in remission. Thank you, Jesus. Her hair is a gorgeous curly, white head of hair. Our faith is stronger than ever. Let your tribe help you. Pray. I’ll be praying too. You can do this, because, what is a year, anyway? You have soo many more ahead of you.
Hang in there, I too went through this in 1993. It is stupid! And I and my parents said the same thing, “there is no cancer in our family!” Oh well, I guess I was the one. Stay strong and God bless you!
Hi Marta,
I emailed you hoping you recognize it. Blessings to you and your family as well. ~ Carrie
So happy to hear you are still doing well.
Expect a text from me today…
💔🙏👍🤜🤛
Thank you. I pray and hope Martha continues to do well. I was young and had three pree-teen boys. But God was merciful and I didn’t need chemo or radiation, just Tamoxifen. The only positive that came out of this ordeal was that it strengthened my faith by bringing me back to our Catholic Faith full force. Thank you Jesus!
I am with you dear Marta through thick and thin having been there myself. Every day that we have is a gift. So glad that you are sharing this. It is actually very therapeutic and helpful to those that might be going thru the same thing. We’re “blue dot sisters”. Love you🥰
Sending you a big hug and muchos besitos !!
Marta, wishing you all the best sweet lady. You are in my prayers. I’m glad you are back and much better. You may remember me as a good friend of Alina’s in high school. -Debbie. Think of you often. Take care. Love you.
Hugs and prayers for you!!! God is good! ❤️🙏😘
I’m so truly blessed to have reconnected with you, unfortunately at terry’s funeral , but, never the less we got together for lunch in south coast plaza and I am the beneficiary of that reunion and lunch because I got to have you back in my life again, even if just a snippet of you since I’m bi coastal…but due to social media I can see you all the time! When you told me about your cancer I immediately went into prayer mode for you! I am so grateful for this announcement of CANCER GONE! Whoop!!!! Love you
Well, we have more than a first name in common now. I too had a really bad year. Mine was endometrial cancer. A blur of surgeries (hysterectomy and port install), chemo, radiation, and now side effects. I will add you to my prayer list and give thanks for your healing. We are both daughters of the most high God and He wants us well. I look forward to reading your upcoming posts as I see much of my journey in yours (I too felt telling my kids was the worst part). All praise and glory to our Father who is faithful and loving. Cuidate. De las buenas quedamos pocas LOL
♥️
“thought I really could just handle this quickly and quietly and not bother anyone with it. Damn. Cuban woman fortitude goes deep.” I needed to read this right here!
Thank you for your post. I am glad to hear you are doing OK & had a great group of people & their prayers surrounding you during your bad year.
My prayers Marta, you will pull through this. Good Luck! God Bless.
I read it all, and I will keep reading! You are a “Cubanaza” warrior so stay strong! (= strong, yet let people help you). Salud, mujer!
Marta,
Gracias for sharing! I look forward to reading more when you’re ready.
Qué Dios te bendiga!
Stay strong Cubichi!
Cariños, Lourdes
Marta, God be with you during this …bad year. Your sense of humor is probably your best asset. I will keep you on my prayers, they do work! Pa’lante y pa’lante amiga
No te conosco pero desde Tampa te mando un saludo Pinareno y un GOD BLESS YOU!!! Hang in there!!
Many good wishes and prayers for u and ur family. I just bumped into ur page again after a few years and I find out what you’ve been going through. You’ve been successful in your battle, that gives me hope. God put you in front of me again since my partner just got diagnosed with renal carcinoma. Le voy a hacer tus pastelitos de guayaba! Surgery is next week so I’ll be copying more of ur recipes for her recovery. Thanks Marta, stay well. Greetings from New Jersey.
May God guise you through this bad weather, the sun will shine, like we say “Después de la tormenta, viene la calma!” Glad to hear the worse is behind you, missed you a ton!!!!❤️
Wow. As someone who totally enjoys your stories, thank you for writing this one. I have a feeling there are others, like me, that feel honored you shared it and denial, being what it is, needs to be revealed for others that suffer it.
May God continue to Bless you and your beautiful family.
Ponte fuerte as we say, and know there are many hearts with you on this journey. I hope you will continue to share that journey, por si las moscas! Thank you for sharing your experience-you are an inspiration. Gracias!
Diane
Oh Martica!
Thank you for sharing this. You are an amazing lady! An inspiration to many of us. A survivor💖
May God bless you & protect you!
Bendiciones 🙏🏻💖😊 Aymee
Hola Marta, no la conosco pero le deseo mucha salud y que Dios la bendiga . Palante y Palante .
¡Ay, Marta! ¡Qué susto, y que mal rato! I am so sorry that you have endured this horrible disease, and I thank you for sharing your journey with your followers and virtual familia. As a Cuban-American woman and mom, I completely understood the part where you said you could handle it quickly and quietly and not bother anyone. Why do we do that? I’m happy that your husband, kids and friends are so loving and supportive. Sending love and prayers to you. Qué Dios te bendiga. 🤗💐
May this be your only bad year. I wish you well and will pray for your full recovery with lots of love all around!
I wish you strength, positive energy and serenity as you turn the end of this very bad year into the beginning of a very good decade…
Many blessings 🙏🏻
Miriam
Very sorry to hear about this. Been there done that! I have lived in Miami all my life but also Cuban. I also went through it’s going to go away. I’ll take care of it after the holidays that was October, 2017 didn’t say anything.
January, 2018 I went to Miami Cancer Institute and everything else was just like your journey. I had malignant carcinoma, left breast, had lumpectomy February 9, 2018 but was driving the next day. Had to pick up the nietos at school. Had chemotherapy, radiation, and have to take the cancer pill for at least 5 years. That’s the bad news, the good news is that you will survive and you will feel good! Your sense of humor and attitude will get you there as it did me. Don’t stop praying 🙏. Just had all my tests done yesterday and everything is good. You have to fight, stay positive the alternative is worse🌹😘
Hola Marta. I met you a couple of times with Betti. Dear Marta thank you for sharing. You are such a wonderful funny woman. You have the gift of writing. I can read all you write forever. My prayers with you always and a big hug.
I’m so sorry this happened to you, Marta…I do hope by now that you are doing better. ❤️ & 🙏🏼‘s
Dear Marta,
You will get through this and will be even stronger for it! You are in our thoughts and prayers! Thank you for being so candid and honest in your blog. Your humor and warmth are helping countless women find strength in the face of fear!
Dear Marta,
I stumbled across your page as I was looking for an authentic recipe for Cuban rice and beans – not the other versions out there that have no business calling themselves exactly that. Then I started poking around and thought “hey! I can make this Arroz con Pollo vegan!” It would be simple enough and give me a taste of what I’m missing since this was to be the year we returned to Cuba (We try to go every second year). Then I stumbled onto this One Bad Year…
I obviously don’t know you or your family but this story touched me as the Matriarch of my own family – not wanting to admit anything is wrong yet knowing there is something not quite right but having to comfort and soothe everyone else and dispel their fears. You are a strong woman from the sound of things and you will get through this One Bad Year. Breasts are no longer needed once the babies are fed and there are no more to come, they don’t define you or make you any less of a woman without them. Stay strong, stay healthy and keep your appointments. Let your family and friends do the rest until you are able to press the play button on your life again without having to hit pause.
Thank you for sharing Marta,
First of all-I am so glad you listened to your friend and got checked out and treatment right away!
and second I think it is so important for us women to share our stories-to get the word out to get yourself checked and also to know that they are not alone. So thank you again!
My Mom in law was diagnosed with a very aggressive breast cancer last year and it has been an up and down battle -she is still fighting strong -for the whole family.
Please continue to get better I am looking forward to many more delicious recipes!
I’ve been there all of 2018. On one breast, also had lumpectomy, chemotherapy, radiation. It’s a life long process. Check ups, blood work, X-rays, mammogram, ultrasounds, etc. I’m doing very well but it’s a daily thing In the back of your mind will it return. I have to take a daily pill for 5-10 years that is suppose to reduce the chances of recurrence. It has side effects but I’m fortunate that I only have hair thinning.
I pray for you Martha . I feel for you, 🙏🙏