By Thomasina Kirby Butler
The Day Everything Changed
Metastatic breast cancer isn’t just a diagnosis — it’s a life-altering shift. A balancing act between fear and hope, grief and grit.
Living with it means constantly walking the thin line between despair and determination. It has its glitter — the strength, love, and light that shines through the cracks — and its grim: the pain, uncertainty, and truths most people never talk about.
This is my story.
On February 18, 2005 — my birthday — I was diagnosed with stage IV metastatic breast cancer. It had already spread to my spine. That day, celebration turned into devastation.
I was 47 years old, working full-time as a Certified Nursing Technician — a career I had spent over 30 years building. I had two daughters, ages 31 and 15, and two grandsons, ages 7 and 5.The fear was paralyzing.
Will I die soon? Would I see my youngest graduate? Would I watch my grandsons grow up?
I continued working through treatment. I scheduled chemo on my days off, trying to preserve my sick leave so I could keep supporting my family. It was exhausting — physically and emotionally. I was terrified of losing my income, my independence, and my life.
Facing Fear with Grit
Back then, reliable information on metastatic breast cancer — especially for African American women — was hard to find.
I stumbled across an article that claimed most Black women with metastatic breast cancer died within five years. I believed it. I felt doomed.
Even once the cancer was under control, I lived in fear of its return. And it did return — twice. But now, I don’t worry as much. I know it can come back, but I’ve learned to take it one day at a time.
If it comes again, I have an amazing doctor who will treat it with everything available. Even in the darkest moments, something kept me going.
My doctor was kind, patient, and informative. He took time to explain things and never made me feel rushed or dismissed.
My family was my heartbeat. My daughters and grandsons gave me a reason to fight. They didn’t just need me — I needed them.
Finding Strength in Community
Then I found Living Beyond Breast Cancer (LBBC), a nonprofit based in Philadelphia. LBBC gave me more than information — they gave me representation. I saw women who looked like me. I heard stories of survival, hope, and purpose. I learned that I could live beyond the diagnosis.
That five-year statistic? It didn’t have to apply to me.
I have two sayings I tell myself to cope: “It is what it is, until it ain’t.” “It can always be worse.”
I started to realize that I was more than a patient. I was a thriver. A provider. A mother. A grandmother. A woman with a voice — and a future.
That shift led me to become an advocate in the metastatic community. Helping others helps me, because I remember how scared I was when I was first diagnosed. Everyone’s cancer is different, but we share a common truth: we are not alone.
Still Living, Still Hopeful
Metastatic breast cancer is complex. It doesn’t come with easy answers or guaranteed timelines.
It comes with both grim and glitter — and you learn to hold them both.
Yes, there is pain. But there is also power.
Yes, there is uncertainty. But there is also community.
Yes, there is fear. But there is also fierce love.
I continue to live with this disease. But more importantly, I continue to live fully, intentionally, and with a story worth sharing.
