Month: March 2025

The Red Devil

Yesterday (now two days ago because it has taken me that long to finish this) I started the dreaded AC chemotherapy along with my regular immunotherapy (Keytruda). It was/is pretty bad. I’m able to control the nausea pretty well with medication, but I feel absolutely horrible. It is like the worst motion sickness, combined with headache, joint/bone pain, extreme fatigue and neuropathy in my hands and feel. This round there is the added bonus of sharp pains shooting under my fingernails. Good times.

Before going in, the red drip, and during treatment:

Positive energy going in
the red devil
during treatment

This is the first time that I’ve felt such an instant reaction to the medication. I went in determined to have a good experience but instantly got sick. The nurses were concerned because my color drained and I started shaking. Boy, was I glad to have my chemo quilt yesterday!

Today I didn’t feel any better, but I know that this too shall pass. I was talking to my son, and he said to focus on the glimmers of hope. Small steps… progress… days when I don’t feel so bad. That is good advice, because looking at the next year stretching out in front of me is daunting.

AC chemotherapy, second day after the first cycle (March 27, 2025)

I never would have imagined posting such unflattering photos of myself online. But I want to keep it real here. I’m documenting this for my kids, for the future. If I look bad, I guarantee that I feel worse. I’ve cried so much in the last two days I don’t have any tears left. I’m learning to let go and feel the feelings, cry when I need to and pull myself back up.

Maybe someone else diagnosed with TNBC will find this and know that they are not alone. It is a rough road for sure, but easier when traveled together.

Quartermaster

Two days ago, I had my last dose of Taxol: four cycles with three treatments in each cycle. It feels good to acknowledge this small milestone because it means I’m one step closer to beating this thing. I told my dad that I was happy to be halfway to the halfway point and he laughed. “We’ll have to call you quartermaster,” he said.

So, to celebrate here is a quick overview of my treatment plan and where I go from here.

STAGING

Diagnosis and Testing

November ’24 diagnosed with TNBC (2.8cm tumor). Insurance denied scans to check for spread. Stage 2 based on tumor size.

NEOADJUVANT THERAPY

Immunotherapy and Chemotherapy

Keytruda every 3 weeks for 6 months.

Taxol every week for 3 months. DONE!

Doxorubicin every 3 weeks for 3 months.

SURGERY

Lumpectomy or Mastectomy

Surgical plan TBD.

ADJUVANT THERAPY

Immunotherapy and Radiation

Keytruda every 3 weeks for 6 months.

Radiation 5 days a week for 8 weeks.

Possibility of additional chemotherapy depending on pathology results from surgery.

To be honest, I’m a little nervous about starting this next round of chemo with Doxurubicin. It is nicknamed “The Red Devil” and has a reputation for being difficult to tolerate.

The first three months with Taxol have been difficult, but manageable. I have been exhausted, nauseous, rashy and in a lot of abdominal pain. BUT, I haven’t been throwing up and have been (mostly) able to eat. So, it’s been a mixed bag. If I’ve learned anything going through this process so far, it is to be grateful for the little wins.

The hardest part for me has been not being able to take care of my family the way that I want to. I can’t work and that has been a huge strain on the household. I don’t have the energy to take care of the grandkids or clean the house. The stress (financial and emotional) is difficult to manage.

Three months into a twelve-month journey and I’ve already changed so much. The photo on the left is the last selfie I took before my diagnosis (October ’24). The photo on the right was taken a couple days ago during my last Taxol dose.

FUNDRAISING

We are going to be doing a raffle next month to raise money for medical expenses. Still working on the details, but it should be fun.

For ongoing support, my daughter has set up a GoFundMe here.

Or, if you just want to buy me a coffee my CashApp is $KristalArmendariz.

Thank you so much to everyone who has donated, shared posts, liked or commented on social media, called, texted or dropped off food/gifts. It means a lot to me and my family to know that we are not alone in this.

ups and downs

It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve written here, but every day feels the same. I think I might be feeling better and then I do something – dishes, laundry, walk outside… and the fatigue hits me. The symptoms have definitely been getting worse over the past couple of months and I’m tired.

Something new that just started happening the last week is that I’ll get the chills and start shaking. My doctor said to go to the emergency room if my temperature goes over 100, so I always check when I get the chills. But no fever. My temp has been dropping to 95. I’ve been using a heating pad or taking a hot bath to bring it back up and once it gets close to 97 I’ll stop shaking and be fine.

These photos were all taken on the same day and are pretty representative of a typical day for me. I got up and got ready, feeling hopeful about the day (1st pic). Had to go to the center for treatment and was feeling pretty tired, but still holding it together (2nd pic). Came home and crashed – tired but also in a lot of pain: abdominal pain, headache, body aches, chills, neuropathy.

good morning
cycle 4, treatment 2
good night

I have one more session of the Taxol + immunotherapy and then we are switching over to AC + immunotherapy. I’m not sure what to expect. From what I’ve read online AC can cause more nausea, but it’s hard to say. These drugs have such a wide range of side effects, and they affect everyone to differing degrees.

I’m going to hope for the best and keep on keeping on…

March 3rd

Today is Triple Negative Breast Cancer Day, the beginning of an entire month dedicated to this disease. Before being diagnosed, I had never even heard of it. Now, it has taken over my life.

The last three months have been a whirlwind of doctors’ appointments, lab work, scans, tests and treatment. Most days I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror. I’m not even halfway through the first six months of chemotherapy and immunotherapy. I still have surgery, radiation, six months of immunotherapy (and the possibility of more chemotherapy) to look forward to after I’m done with my current therapies.

But life goes on.

I’m trying not to focus on all the things I can’t do. Work, move, sleep, think. Instead, I’m trying to lean into the things I can do. Breathe, be patient, accept what I cannot change, choose to be happy.

Spending time with my grandkids means so much to me. They don’t understand anything about cancer. They don’t notice or care that I don’t have hair. A bad blood test means nothing to them. They want snacks and hugs and play time. I’m learning to let go of worry and expectations and live in the moment. When I’m tired, I rest. When I’m hungry, I eat. I’m enjoying every moment I can, as much as I can.

Because life goes on.