11 Years with Breast Cancer: Someone Forgot to Send the Break-Up Text.

JUST SURGERY FRIDAY So Here’s the Thing   (This is a direct quote from my January 31 blog) I kept the surgery quiet—almost no one knew. Why? I’m not entirely sure. Maybe I thought not talking about it would make it feel less real. Or maybe I just wanted to skip the stress and come back Monday with some good news, like Ta-da! I’m fine. But what I do know is that I didn’t want a flood of worried check-ins or people waiting on updates I wasn’t ready to give. In a situation that feels completely out of my hands, this was one thing I could control—and I wasn’t about to let that go. And now? It’s different this time! I DID NOT have CHEMO on Tuesday I did have surgery yesterday: Friday, May 30th AND Monday crew, I’ll see you at your regular times If you want to hear the story firsthand, this is where it is. No calling, no texting. Here is me with all my emotions laid out for you. But please be assured, I’m good. I wouldn’t be posting if I wasn’t. ...

The Immune System Games  Let’s play a game. It’s called: Is It Allergies, a Virus, Chemo, or Just a Delightful Combo Platter of All Three? Spoiler alert: I still have no clue. Some of you noticed I went a little quiet last week. My symptoms? GI issues, a relentless pressure headache, dehydration (obviously), and a level of fatigue that’s less “I need a nap” and more “I’ve been recast as a human turtle.” Dana-Farber looked at my labs and basically said, “Honestly, we’re surprised this didn’t hit you sooner.” Hemoglobin’s barely hovering above 8, platelets have made a dramatic exit, and my bone marrow is curled in the fetal position whispering, “We’re out.” Meanwhile, half the people I know were battling stomach bugs and the other half were sneezing their way through pollen hell. So when I had the GI drama, sinus pressure, a first-time stye (shoutout to that hellish little eyelid volcano), eyelashes jumping ship in clumps, and—shocking no one—dehydration, I had to wonder: pol...

Because every one of you—male, female, friend, cousin, coworker, neighbor, whatever label fits—has mothered me in some way over the past few months. You’ve checked in, dropped off food, sent texts, made me laugh when I wanted to scream, and wrapped me in care that I didn’t even know I needed. You’ve shown up as listeners, problem solvers, snack deliverers, sarcasm experts, and early morning lifelines. That’s a lot of nurturing energy, and today feels like the right day to honor all of it. So this year, Mother’s Day isn’t just for the moms. It’s for the mothering . And I am so lucky to be surrounded by it. CHEMO 5: Ground ZERO EpiPens, Salmon, and the Search for a License Let’s not bury the lead—because Terry said it best. Here’s his text from the group chat that pretty much nails it: “JJ was her normal determined self yesterday and I learned a lot about the difference between non-stop and direct flights. She knows a lot of things. More than her nurses I th...

My Last 72 Hours / 24 Hours to Go Before Chemo Again (Sunday Night Weekly Blog, Posted on Monday, as I Get Ready for Tuesday) Chemo Round 5: Still Kicking (and Gaining) We’re heading into Round 5 of chemo—aka the second-to-last round before surgery—and yes, I gained 10 pounds. That’s not a typo. TEN. On a body that’s literally on chemo. Which means I felt great. Because no one gains 10 pounds on kale and despair. Here’s the real headline: I didn’t know how not great I felt until I came off the meds. So, mental note for next round—and now, shared publicly with all of you: there’s some re-evaluating to do. Chemo brain fog, fatigue, and the lovely med swirl all sneak up on you. And then, suddenly, they’re gone—and you realize… ohhh, this is what normal feels like. Round 5 is tomorrow, May 6 Round 6 is May 27 Surgery is June 24 There are six total chemo rounds before surgery. This is not the end of treatment. Let’s say that again, because I get asked constantly: ❗ I will need in...