tomorrow is my LAST day of chemo❣️

Hi Friends,

It’s been 6 weeks since I last wrote to you and wow has it been a wild ride of treatment since then!

Here’s the TLDR:

• Treatment Update: Since I last wrote to you, I’ve endured 3, incredibly challenging, infusions of adriamyacin (aka “The Red Devil”) and TOMORROW is my last chemotherapy infusion (16 / 16) !!

• Support My Journey: I’m introducing a paid version of this newsletter, where you’ll get exclusive bi-weekly content—original essays, poetry, musings, and life reflections. I’ll still keep the free version (keep reading for details)

For those that are new welcome & I thought I’d reintroduce myself:

👋 My name is Jess Storiale - I live in NYC with my husband, Jake, and (massive) goldendoodle, Noodle.

🪩 I love live music, disco balls and getting out of my apartment and into nature.

📈 After a decade building other founders’ businesses, I started my own career coaching business last year - Career Coach Jess - where as a Career Clarity Coach, I help women who feel stuck and unfulfilled in their career gain clarity and confidence in their next step via a search mindset and strategy I developed that centers on crafting a career narrative that leads with your biggest strength – what makes you uniquely you.  

💓 Oh, and likely the reason you’re here: I was diagnosed with Stage 2 Triple Negative Invasive Ductal Carcinoma in my right breast on April 15th - I found the lump on my own through what I believe to be divine intervention (you can read more about my cancer origin story here) and this newsletter is a way of sharing the highs and lows of treatment and the beauty in the everyday.

So let’s dive in….

Medical update 🏥

the BIG news? My tumor, which was about 2.4 cm in April, remains undetectable to my medical team and, after 6 months of chemotherapy, my FINAL INFUSION is tomorrow!

I fully expected to spend my “downtime” in October writing to you weekly and taking you along for the ride but, they call Adriamyacin “the red devil” for a reason. From nausea, to excruciating bone pain, to overwhelming fatigue - these last 6 weeks and 3 infusions have felt like a blur.

I’m so thankful that my final infusion is tomorrow and that I’ll never ever have to get Adriamyacin again as I’ve received the lifetime maximum a human body can handle of what many claim to be the hardest chemotherapy someone can receive 🫠 

I will claim getting through this regimen as my stand-in marathon completion - should I make a bumper sticker?

In all seriousness, I give credit to all your good vibes, sweet gifts and prayers(and, of course, the chemo and immunotherapy). Thank you for riding this rollercoaster with me!

Now, that doesn’t mean I’m cancer-free yet.

We’ve still got work to do and, although tomorrow will be celebratory, I won’t be ringing the bell just yet.

I’m 7 months into this diagnosis and have ~6 months left of treatment.

Surgery (mid December) ➡️

Radiation (Jan & Feb - not sure how much I’ll need yet) ➡️

Immunotherapy (through May or June)

🛎️ Then I’ll ring that bell and we’ll be celebrating cancer-free!

Just not yet.

Mental update 🧠

Which leads me to how I’ve been feeling… for the first time since my diagnosis, I’ve started to let myself dream about life post treatment and seeing that light at the end of tunnel is both motivating and excruciating because, well, we’re just not there yet.

For 6 months now, my body and my time hasn’t felt like my own.

I haven’t been and still aren’t in control.

To put it in perspective, during my chemotherapy regimen alone, after tomorrow I will have:

🩺 Had 22 appointments with my Oncologist and related specialists (Gastroenterologist, Genetic Doctor, Integrative Health Doctor, Endocrinologist)

🩸 Had my blood drawn 25 times

👀 Had 2 MRIs, 2 ultrasounds, and 1 echocardiogram

🔪had 1 surgical liver biopsy

💉received 12 infusions of taxol & carboplatin

💉received 7 infusions of keytruda (immunotherapy)

💉received 4 infusions of adriamyacin (the “red devil) and cytoxan

🥶 coldcapped to save my hair for a combined 96+ hours costing $10,800 (and yes, it’s still falling out a lot but, I had a lot to start with so I still have the majority of my hair)

To be clear, I don’t calculate this to complain.

I calculate to show how being a cancer patient is easily a full time job - not just for me but for my loved ones who have been there for almost every appointment and infusion.

It’s not just scary to fight cancer - it’s exhausting to endure cancer treatment - for everyone involved.

So when people ask how I’m really feeling? Exhausted. And Out of Control. And Hopeful.

Reintroducing: Slayin’ the Cancer Scaries Supporters 🫶

I’m offering a paid version of this newsletter! Here’s what you can expect as a subscriber:

🪩 Exclusive bi-weekly content:

• Original essays

• Poetry

• Musings

• Thought-provoking suggestions

Content like this:

I’ll dive deeper into my breast cancer journey and explore what it means to navigate uncertainty and liminal spaces in life. If you’re someone who enjoys thoughtful reflections on being human, you’ll love this.

Why a paid subscription?

• Creative fulfillment: Having a small nudge of accountability will help me stay connected to this newsletter, ensuring I get those thoughts out of my head and onto the page.

• Financial support: With my energy reserves being limited, I’ve paused 1:1 clients in my business to give me space to heal and get treatment, which has taken quite a toll on my bottom line. The paid newsletter will help cover my living costs (and those pesky medical bills that keep showing up).

What do you want to hear about? Reply to this email & let me know 📧

Until next time,

Jess

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