Judgment Day

Ironic.

I was not as nervous as you would think on April 23^rd.  Martin, my mother and I drove up to Dana Farber.  All weekend I wanted plan for Poland, Barbados and Florida, as we brainstormed ideas of what could be attainable or possible.

I started to realize I looked pregnant… but that couldn’t be.

When the appointment began I noticed it felt like a routine visit. Everything went smoothly, but what were we focusing on? It was this: if I did nothing the outlook for me was living three weeks to a few months longer. So, is that my only option, I wanted to know? 

No, I was told we can try a low dose chemo and see how it works.  Since it is low dose, they said, it won’t do much harm, but we truly don’t know how it will work. It’s not a treatment we have used a lot at low dose and technically you are in liver failure, leaving you with limited options.  Of course, the goal would still be to get you to be stable; however, this is a blind treatment. We don’t know if this approach will be any different than if we do nothing, and not have you connected to any IV pole. I’m 32 years old, I thought, how could I sit here and do nothing if there might still be something that might work and fight back against my liver metastasis?

I’m a fighter, a thriver, and I don’t give up!  Just because I choose not to toss my hands in the air, I’m not oblivious to my current outlook. It does look grim. And at the same time, I’m seeing my husband grasping his thoughts, and watching my mom absorb this news. 

Even though I don’t know what I physically can or can’t do, I want to choose to live for now. I’m not the kind of person to sit back and hope for a miracle with my legs up in the air. 

So, I thought about it and said I would like to try the low dose chemo approach. Yes, it ties me to the chemo pole, but I haven’t had a long life and if there is a chance to extend it, I will raise my hand high in the air and try the treatment.  The new chemo has me tired but so did the last one and so does my liver, so, really, what else is new?

My liver and stomach are very enlarged right now, and based on my scans and blood count numbers, I’m in liver failure.  I have to pray and hope this chemo can shrink or zap some of the nasty liver cancer. Since I’m so uncomfortable I don’t go to many places right now, and because I wobble like a duck when I walk, it knocks the wind out of me.  Your body does what it can to save itself. For me, the fatigue means I need to rest, and I respect that. Unfortunately, I constantly need help these days with everything because of all of that.

As for my Bucket List, it’s still there. It will just have to be taken step by step.  Barbados is still in the cards, but Poland will be too much at this time. My doctors’ orders say small RV trips will be okay, but we will have to play Florida by ear for now and make a decision closer to when that time comes.

We really do hope some local community members, friends and family will assist us in a local fundraiser. Or help me in sharing my GoFundMe page.  Having peace of mind for my husband, my near-end preparations, and medical assistance is always welcome – and more greatly appreciated than you know. 

My short rollercoaster ride could be coming to an end, but I am always hoping to remain on this ride a little longer. I would love your support for the remainder of the ride, and to help me make it less stressful for my husband, friends, and family.

by Larissa Gionfriddo Podermanski, Metastatically Speaking, April 2018

 Larissa died on May 10, 2018, six days after she was photographed (above) with cousins at her cousin's wedding. She made it to Barbados.

Larissa also shared her MBC journey in October, 2017 on the Today Show:

https://www.today.com/health/woman-stage-4-breast-cancer-gets-married-six-days-t118124