Finding purpose with MBC by saying yes to clinical trials

It’s a question I’ve been asked often since I stopped working to focus on my health. I’m 35, and to many, not working at this age is strange. Many people want to know what a person my age does without a job. They’re really asking: how do I make meaning out of my life when I’m no longer “building” something: not a career, not a family, not wealth, not impact. How do I build a legacy now?

It’s an understandable question. Cancer has pruned away much of what once filled my life.

Diagnosis and initial treatment

At the time I was diagnosed with breast cancer (ER+, PR+, HER2-) in 2019, I was working as a computer engineer at a tech company in Austin, Texas. While I went through cancer treatment, little changed. I took time off for a single mastectomy with flat closure, and I was back to work quickly. So quickly, I didn’t even want to take one extra week to recover. I felt the fatigue, both from the mastectomy recovery and side effects from being on tamoxifen, but, to me, breast cancer felt like a detour, not a roadblock.

Progression to metastatic breast cancer

In 2021, when the cancer spread to my bones, I still didn’t slow down. I ran, lifted weights, played video games, and volunteered through surgeries and side effects. I made it through lymph node and bone biopsies. I recovered fast from an oophorectomy. I took aromatase inhibitors (AIs), which lower estrogen levels in the body, CDK 4/6 inhibitors, which help stop cancer cells from dividing, and SERDs, a newer type of medication that blocks and breaks down estrogen receptors. I understood these treatments in detail, because I read every single insert that came with them.

Eventually, the cancer reached more bones, my liver, and my lungs. That’s when I had to stop working.

What’s been lost

I couldn’t maintain a high-powered tech career if I had to miss work for appointments or recover from side effects. I couldn’t run or weightlift as I once did, not without risking a fractured spine or hip. I couldn’t carry children. I’d already given up my reproductive organs in hopes of more time. Even volunteering became harder as my white blood cell counts dropped. I diverted some of my remaining energy to helping others in support group, and then in with legislative advocacy work, but I still wanted to do more.

What I chose instead: Clinical trials

I still wanted to do something meaningful. Fortunately, I have stable housing, transportation, and long-term disability. With my basic needs met, I turned to advocacy and volunteerism, but I wanted to do more. If I’m stuck with a body that doesn’t work the way I want, I might as well put it to good use. So, I enrolled in a clinical trial.

It was a risk I chose. And one I continue to choose. There are always unknowns: Will the drug work? Will I have side effects? Will I need more medications to manage them? Is there a chance I’m trading my current stability for something worse?

All of those are valid concerns. While my medication and many logistics are covered, there are still responsibilities. Scans and in clinic appointments still are paid for by my medical insurance, and due to the clinical trial, I have scans every six weeks instead of every three months. And although the pharmaceutical company does provide some stipends for the travel logistics like lodging and some mileage, it does not cover the entirety of the travel expenses like rideshare, parking, and pet care for my two kitties. Plus, the inconveniences of traveling to a major cancer center every three weeks are both a physical and emotional burden.

But all of life comes with risk and responsibility. I still have the option to say no at any time. I just keep choosing yes.

For me, the risk has been worth the reward.

Why it matters

In the first half of 2025, two drugs were FDA-approved for the same breast cancer subtype I have. That only happened because hundreds of people before me said yes to clinical trials.

By participating, I have a small chance of being part of the solution, and a bigger chance of getting the newest, most promising treatments. Everyone in a clinical trial receives the standard of care at least. But in my case, I’ve likely lived longer because of it. I’ve already outlived the median progression-free survival time for what would have been my standard treatment.

My life today

Most of my life isn’t about “being part of something bigger than myself,” though. It’s filled with everyday things. I spend time with my husband and our two cats, who, thankfully, enjoy spending time with me, too. I take walks, play video games, and travel between a lot of medical appointments.

I’m not grateful for my cancer, but I am grateful for my life, and cancer won’t change that.

Now, I’m also grateful that I can turn my circumstances into something good. And, turning my life into something meaningful is what I want to do, now and always.