Still Marchin’ On - March 5, 2026

Hello friends and happy March! I’d say “spring is right around the corner!” but I’ll believe it when I see it this year, lol. Three weather delays have resulted in a month-long extension of treatment. I’m over it. 

TL;DR because this one is a fatty with a lot of bad jokes - I was on Susan G. Komen’s podcast!; menopause kicks ass (in both good and bad ways); my back and legs have a shot at healing; the body changes are downright horrifying and I want to fistfight the universe about it.

Well, it’s March. Back in September when this started, I asked myself what life would look like 5 months from then. What would 5 months of treatment and acclimating myself look like–what would this winter bring, emotionally and physically? I’ve stopped trying to anticipate the twists and turns life has in store because, clearly, you could think you’re moving in one direction before you’re hurled into the next. If I could tell myself 5 months ago one thing, it’s this: Don’t bother trying to think of what’s coming next. Just focus on surviving the next 15 minutes.

Things are stable treatment-wise. I’m exhausted 24/7 but I’ve managed to stay out of the hospital or ER for 4 weeks now, which is a new record! I love a good fun fact, and maybe you will too. One thing I never would have known about (hormone-positive) breast cancer until now: my body can no longer be trusted with hormones, ever. So—surprise!—I am in menopause for the rest of my life. It’s been about four months, and the complete loss of f*cks to give about petty nonsense has been honestly kind of liberating. That part isn’t a trope! It’s real! Now, I’d love to tell you hot flashes make you feel like a powerful phoenix bursting into flames and being reborn from the ashes, but you’re more like a sweaty, disoriented pigeon smashing headfirst into a street sign and promptly passing out. I laughed too hard at a silly joke and suddenly my soul needed to exit my body just to cool down?? Any and all tips on surviving The Inferno are welcome, because I fear there are not enough ice pops in the world.

I had the opportunity to appear on Susan G. Komen’s podcast in February! Lemme tell you, I have a lot to say about all this bullsh*t and it was equal parts cathartic and intimidating sharing my story. I’ve mentioned noticing a gap between how cancer is talked about and how it’s lived through, especially for the younger population. When talking about menopause and also cancer treatment, I’ve heard people say they didn’t recognize themselves in the heart of treatment all throughout my life, which always made sense, but now I truly understand it. Being violently jump-scared by your own reflection every single time is a pretty wild mental trip. Like, let me get this straight: I’m gonna lose my tits and I have to look like chubby she-Voldemort leading up to it? Come on. When I open my front-facing camera, I look like a thumb with facial features. Those bags under my eyes are designer, okay? I earned those! I also have to use an eyebrow pencil now. I will have you know that losing my hair is one thing—that’ll all grow back, it wasn’t that great to begin with, and I have a killer wig. But my eyelashes and brows? CALL THE HAGUE. This is a crime and yet somehow I’m the one paying for it in the CVS makeup aisle, standing there looking like a bewildered idiot. Someone once told me “men would have gone to war for a woman with eyes like that in the past.” Where’s my damned army?? Oh…it’s in my hand and I have no idea how to use it. (It’s the Elf brow gel pencil, my beautiful makeup-wearers. Send help!) 

And as if the funhouse-mirror circus wasn’t enough, my body decided to add a metabolic plot twist. I’m now doing GLP1 injections (Ozempic, but specifically Zepbound) with the approval of my oncologist. This is something that can happen: the rapid weight gain I’ve experienced is actually from an insulin resistance and metabolic crash caused by the extremely sudden hormonal screech-to-a-halt into menopause. I was just hoping the rise was being caused by a tough adjustment period but, alas. Even though I know it’s no fault of my own, it is very much so destroying what little is left of my self-esteem. Gaining 4-6 pounds a week for no reason is absolutely f*cking insane no matter how you slice it (after losing it all on my own) and I admit that this time, I really need a GLP1 to keep me at a healthy baseline. It will not affect treatment and actually, Ozempic is being used more and more for situations just like this with phenomenal, sustainable results. I don’t care how long it takes. I’ve lost a metric f*ckton of weight on my own before and I don’t ever want to look like a celebrity who took it too far. I just want to feel and look like me for longer than 15 seconds total for God’s sake! Why that road has had to be so heinously difficult too, I’ll never understand why. When I think about it all, how the weight gain was the most insulting and worst thing that could have happened mentally, I’m stuck between being so tired of it I dissociate and wanting to fistfight the wind for just blowing too hard. 

Some good news!: I’ve been quiet on the disc degeneration front because I wanted to have a game plan ready before I touched on it again. We found out about this, the cause of my years-long disabling pain, during the PT scan to check for metastatic cancer spread. I have 4 protrusions (C2, T1, L4, L5) and this fun disorder called Piriformis syndrome as a result, where there is a deep knot in my glute muscle compressing my sciatic nerve. There is damage and pain all over my right side but especially concentrated down my right leg. But the good news is this: I got my first round of injections to space the vertebrae out and relieve the knot in my muscle on 3/3. Because there are a few spots that could be causing the bulk of the pain, we are taking the shots one location at a time. The first one they tried didn’t really work, but they told me they didn’t expect it to–it will take time and effort to nail it down completely, but we are so so close to getting this figured out for good.

It’s all a lot. I know. For as bitter as I can be about this, I have to recognize that I’m actually pretty lucky. I had a late stage, aggressive cancer and I wouldn’t have seen 35 if I didn’t find it exactly when I did. A lot of people don’t even still. Chemo has killed basically all the cancer off already. All the issues I’ve encountered in treatment have been met with unbelievable care and understanding from my team, and also with a resolution—and if not a definite answer, then pretty close to one. It would have been years of more crippling pain if I didn’t have to get a PT scan. Dr. Flanigan, Lauren, Jodi & the whole Davenport crew are effectively saving my life and giving me the best shot at normalcy afterwards I could possibly have. I can’t bake them enough cookies every week to express the gratitude I feel. 

Yeah. I want to rip something to shreds and in the next breath I am kissing the ground one of my many living guardian angels walks on. I’m exhausted, too! But here’s to warmer weather and time moving in the right direction. It ain’t much but it’s good enough for now. Thank you for everything as always, folks…who’s tired of hearing that? (I don’t care, I’m going to keep saying it.)

All my love,

Caroline