I haven’t written a blog in a while, but not for lack of trying. Everything turns into a pile of frustrated swear words about the current administration and I just want to tear out the hair that my cancer treatments already made short work of. None of that would help anyone. I have nothing to add to that conversation that will make a difference. The people who can make a difference are already on the case, and I have other things I need to be paying attention to, like my health. Like putting some of my story out there so anyone who is going through something similar may find some relief.

So here’s the dilly-o. My most recent scan shows the last round of chemo did not work so well, so I am starting brand new meds next week.  Brand new meds with their own set of symptoms and brand new side effects. The real problem is that I have a spray of new lesions on my liver, where the breast cancer spread to. And those little effing lesions could cause my liver to fail. That’s the end of the line baby.

But while I am waiting for my new meds I am feeding my little liver lots of dark berries and green powders (I can’t stomach veggies for some reason with the chemo), and talking to it nicely and giving it acupuncture. I get on my spin bike, teach my yoga, and I rest when I can, and I do all the things that may or may not make a difference.

Anyhow, the latest scan scared me, and I had a few days of pretty bad pain, and some depression, truth be told. Like take a morphine tab kind of pain. But luckily, except for some random poking here and there, I haven’t had any more of that. Some of the heaviness, the blueness lingers.

Having metastatic disease, stage four, is a big deal and a big circle. You take the drug, do the scan, if it’s working, you keep going. If it doesn’t work you switch the drug, along with all the side effects, and keep going until a scan or your tumor markers go up, indicating something is growing. You keep going until there are no more drugs, or you just don’t have any more fight. I can understand getting to the point where it all gets to be too much. All of us reach this at some point, there is no cure for Stage Four Cancer.

So I recently dragged myself out of the terror of my recent not great news with the usual questions swirling; How much will it hurt? How long will I last, am I at the end of the line? What about my kids, and my four footers? What about my house? I still have those questions but have grabbed that ugly, smelly, horned beast named Cancer by the matted hairy cheeks. I’ll keep fighting, f*cker. I hear liver failure and I think of the blessed first responder who spoke up in Washington with Jon Stewart. His liver failed due to his cancer. Jesus. Am I strong enough to do that? For now I am, and it doens’t really matter if I am or not, I have people expecting me to rally. So I rally, Baby.

I go to work so I can pay my mortgage and I am lucky to work with a great staff who are also friends. I fight for them. They encourage me. I fight to teach them how to survive with a sense of humor. I fight for my daughter and my two sons. Their faces crumple a bit at every bit of not so great news. We are an unusually tight bunch. I fight for my beautiful friends, I have the best friends.

Sometimes I think I’ve hit my place where I am entirely sick and tired of being sore and nauseas and bald, but then this bizarrely relentless good attitude kicks in and I am full of hope. I don’t know where that comes from but beneath all my grumbling and my big streak of being Judgy Mary, I really have a good attitude. It just is my go to after I’ve had some time to gripe.

I’ve been lazy here and there in the past, not quite doing everything I can do, getting lazy with the exercise, but that’s when treatments are going well and I am considered stable. That’s not today.  Today I am fighting, and today I am starting my blog again, because connecting to you, reaching out to you and having you respond is my sparkly magic. It’s good for what ails me.

Sat Nam, People, Big Peace and Big Love.

Photo: Me being Silly




  1. Lucy Conway says:

    Love you Liza ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Carolyn Geis says:

    Liza I send u warm hopeful wishes from New York and hope that u kick cancers ass to the wall. My heart and prayers are with you.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Anita says:

    As i read your blog i cannot imagine everything you go through every day . Through it all I always see a smile on your face. Sending you lots of SPARKLE and LOVE 💕

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Marie Senno says:

    So sorry to hear of the recent diagnosis . Glad to know you found your own “Invisible Sun ” for strength and hope. We continue our intentions for you – There’s hope when the whole days done xoxo Love Marie and Donald


  5. Karen freede says:

    I think of you often Liza. You gave us such a gift. I know others are the recipients of all you have to give. What else can I do but send you healing vibes. You are an inspiration.
    Thank you for sharing with us.
    Lots of love

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Gina Marie Acker says:

    You’re in my thoughts and prayers every day. I’m so proud of you for keeping up the fight! Go Liza!!

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Debbie says:

    I wish I could give you a real hug, but I’m sending you much love and support on this next round. I hope you know you’ve got a whole cheerleading squad back here, thinking about you and missing you so much. 💕💕💕


  8. Amy C Elwyn says:

    Love Love Love ❤️ You amaze & inspire me with your writing, your fight, your humor, your honesty, your smile. Sending a giant bear hug! I’ll blow kisses from Maui across the ocean this afternoon when I walk on the beach 🌈🌴🦄🌺💖


  9. So very there for you in spirit Liza.
    We are in the lake district in England and it’s beautiful. Have had the luxury of painting everyday tho rain is part of the equation.
    Just sharing because I think you would appreciate. Keep your spirit up, you affect many people in such a positive way.
    I was able to have a part of that even for a short time. Keep that smile going!
    Xo Amanda

    Liked by 1 person

  10. unfinished says:

    Liza you were the first yoga teacher I told when I got sick, and years later you’re still inspiring me to push harder and stop dilly-dallying and sweating the small stuff. Keep pushing, cancer hates exercise. My teacher told me that. Love and hugs xoxo

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: