CANCER CAN GO TO HELL

Beauty and The Beast

As I was driving into Dana-Farber today, I couldn’t help but reflect on how different my chest feels. For the first time since 2014, I don’t feel like I’m lugging around (2) two-pound weighted Pilates balls. The warped, unnatural sensation that had turned my chest into a constant nightmare is finally gone. I’m actually wearing a bra today—something I haven’t done in years—and it feels… incredible. I feel like I actually have breasts again. Real, natural breasts. It’s such a strange, almost foreign feeling, but it’s one I’m holding onto tightly right now.

And now I’m back to reflecting on the fact that, in 2014, this exact spot was where it all began. The DCIS was there, quietly minding its own business, and at some point, it leveled up into invasive cancer before becoming the raging bitch it is now. So if it’s the same cancer—remnants from 2014 that have evolved over time—shouldn’t something have been seen in 2019? And if not in 2019, then surely in 2023. I mean, we know exactly where it started and exactly where it is now. Shouldn’t someone have gone back and connected the dots, figured out how this tiny little speck turned into the beast it is today?

It’s not a new cancer. It’s the same cancer—same spot, same story. Apparently, it’s just been hanging out, masquerading as a silent, non-invasive cancer since 2014. Which, let’s be honest, is the most absurd oxymoron. Silent? Non-invasive? Cancer? Pick a lane.

Now, in 2025, I should be throwing a coming-out party for the new girls—proudly crafted from my inferior glutes and looking so natural. Instead, here I am, gearing up for yet another breast MRI. But not to figure out when the cancer decided to go rogue or how everyone managed to miss it—oh no. This one’s all about deciding if I’ll kick things off with chemo or head into surgery.

Honestly, it’s like being in a murder mystery where all the clues were blatantly obvious, but everyone kept tripping over them and saying, “Huh, nothing to see here!” Meanwhile, I’m stuck waiting for the plot twist.

Jekyl and Hyde

I’ve finished choking down the radiological Crystal Light knockoff and checked the CT scan off the list. Now there’s a four-hour gap before my MRI, and they’re leaving the IV in—so no sneaking down the street for some retail therapy at Serena & Lily. LC even handed over her credit card and told me not to hold back. Tempting, right? But instead of indulging in top-tier shopping or reliving my love for Wegmans, here I am, stuck staring at the traffic on Route 9, spinning around in my own head.

One minute, I’m marveling at this strange, surreal feeling of finally having soft, natural tissue again. For the first time in years, I feel good in my body, healthy, strong and I’m embracing it. But then, the reality hits: there’s still a tumor that shouldn’t be there. That nagging sensation on my left side has been with me since the start, never once free of cancer cells. Not once. And I believed it was. I truly thought it was gone. Reconciling that truth—that what I thought was healing or progress was never either—is hard. The cancer has been there all along, lurking in the background, waiting for its moment.

My emotions are bouncing between hope and frustration, joy and anger, calm and chaos. For now, I’m stuck playing detective while someone else decides which battle I’ll face first. One thing I know for sure: this tumor might have been sneaky, but it’s not getting away with it anymore.

Three Hours to Go and Nowhere to Hide

I only have 3 more hours to kill before my MRI. I’m struck by how strange and complicated this journey truly is—equal parts frustration and resilience. But it’s about more than just the beast. It’s about the fight, the recovery, and, ultimately, the beauty that can rise from the wreckage of all this chaos…I’ve got this!!

So, for your sake, I’ll keep showing up and powering through—wouldn’t want to deprive you all of my charm, wit, and razor-sharp humor. You’re welcome.

And Now, the Moment You’ve All Been Waiting For

For the real reason you’re here—let’s get to the update. Everyone logged in today to find out what’s what, so here it is: CT scan? Check. MRI? Check. As for the results?

STAGE 4 IS OFF THE TABLE

THE MASS IN MY STOMACH FINALLY HAS A KNOWN ORIGIN 

The tumor? Still the main character, the big show. But this little guy, the internal hernia? He’s been hanging around for a couple of years now, trying to play the understudy, maybe even scheming to keep me coming back for scans until the headliner was found. Sneaky little shit—literally—has been clogging up my small bowel loops for who knows how long. Congrats on getting caught, but now it’s time to move along.

I probably won’t hear anything until late Friday. Because, of course, that’s what doctors do best—drop the news right before the weekend so it can fester while you have absolutely zero control over it. Déjà vu, anyone? And there you have it—your suspenseful cliffhanger for now. Stay tuned!

With that, I’m heading home and going straight to bed. For those of you coming to Pilates tomorrow, I can’t wait to see you—and yes, I’ll still find a way to kick your butts. I love you all, even if you’re the reason I have to keep being unstoppable.

But wait…

A special shoutout to Jess, Anne, Jennifer, Sarah, Caity, Sandy, Sophie, and Sam—my closest and dearest, the ones who stuck with me all the way to the end of yesterday’s post and proved you can hang with me through this rollercoaster. You’re the real MVPs of my three-hour wait, and yes, I finally figured it out during that time!

Tomorrow’s Challenge?

Let’s see how many of you can keep up—comment something ridiculous, witty, or just flat-out random. Bonus points if you make me laugh. You’ve got 24 hours to prove your loyalty again—don’t let me down!