Round 5: Finding Peace, Narragansett & Wedding Magic

My Last 72 Hours / 24 Hours to Go Before Chemo Again

(Sunday Night Weekly Blog, Posted on Monday, as I Get Ready for Tuesday)

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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 infusions for an entire year.

We don’t know yet if I’ll need more chemo. That depends on surgery pathology.
I’ll find out what’s actually going into my port at my July 7 follow-up with oncology.

So until then, we march on—with snacks and sarcasm.

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The Big Question: What Are They Taking?

Let’s talk about what surgery will actually involve, because yes, it’s a common question—right after “how are you feeling?” and “when is your surgery?”

✅ No, they are not removing butt tissue.
Also known as the inferior gluteal flap, this magical piece of tissue was moved to my chest in February 2024. As you all know, I love saying: “I have 4 butt cheeks” and “My ass is on my chest”—no further relocation required. We’re done with the great gluteal migration.

✅ Right side (non-cancerous): nothing will be removed.
✅ Left side: minimal tissue removal—only where the cancer was.

Here’s the science as I understand it:
Cancer can’t grow in transferred butt tissue. Why? Because your glutes don’t have breast ducts or lobules—just fat and muscle (no muscle was transferred to my chest). It’s basically decorative padding. Think of it as anatomical upholstery. The cancer wants ductal highways. The gluteal flap is a cul-de-sac.

So, what are they taking (as far as I know)?

• Any leftover breast tissue (because YES, even after a mastectomy, some always remains—and that is exactly where my invasive cancer decided to grow. It wasn’t new. It was the same cancer, hanging out behind the scenes, quietly evolving from the original DCIS site. Public service announcement: no mastectomy removes 100% of breast tissue. Cancer can, and sometimes does, come back in what's left—surprise sequels no one asked for)
• All skin in the area where cancer invaded from underneath.*
• Lymph nodes: a few will be tested during surgery. If any still “light up,” they’ll take them all. Let’s hope chemo did its thing.

*Dr. Carty is in charge of making me look fabulous again. He’s got it. I trust him. And he’s got a scalpel, so… I kind of have to.

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The Question I’ve Dodged—And the Peace I Found

There’s a question I’ve tried to avoid, tried to downplay, or flat-out changed the subject on over the last few months: Is this a new cancer, or is it the same one?

Clinically, I’ve already shared what I was told (I’ll link that post for the full breakdown), and Dr. Jurek—who remains one of my top go-to minds—has walked me through it.

But here's the truth: I now have written confirmation that cancer was visible on both my 2019 and 2023 MRIs.

How that hits you, reading it now, may be very different from how it hit me. Because even though I’ve heard it clinically, and quietly confirmed it through second and third looks, this is the first time it’s in black and white. And when I read it, I felt something I didn’t expect: PEACE.

Yes, people—especially here in Massachusetts—have tried to convince me this is a totally new cancer, a fresh event, unconnected to what happened in 2014. But now, I have both the clinical explanation and the visual confirmation. It’s in writing. It’s official. And it has settled something deep in me.

I’m not angry.
I’m not even surprised.
I’m just… at peace.

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Body Check: Feeling Good. IBS Even Better.

Now that my skin has cleared up and I’m off a few of the harsher meds, I feel… good.
Actually, great.

Reglan is back in the winner’s circle—showing up strong around Day 10.
Nighttime nausea? Under control.

And get this: IBS-C is under control and even a little enthusiastic.
Reglan is doing double duty—and doing it so well. Linzess? Currently benched. My gut? Calm and possibly smug about it.

Sleep-wise: still waking up like a rooster at 5 a.m., uninvited and annoyed about it. Then I crash somewhere between 2 and 4 p.m.—hard. Like face-plant-into-the-sofa hard.

But in between? I’ve Got This!

• Saturday: drove to Watertown and back.

• Sunday: hauled it two-plus hours to Narragansett.

• Today: heading home around noon, still vertical.

So yes, I’m functioning… just on a very specific timer.

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Wedding Dress Plot Twist: Double Trouble

Breaking news: Samantha and Francesca found their dresses—and I cannot express how stunning, strong, smart, and utterly unstoppable they looked.

I can’t post pics (because surprise factor), but I can tell you this:
At one point, they each—completely independently—chose the same exact dress and had on hold (top picture) and tried on multiple dresses that came close. 

They’ve since gone in different directions, and thank god, because I’m not emotionally prepared for identical brides. But truly, you are in for a visual treat. Just wait.

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Narragansett Sunday: Ticks, Weeds, and Dreams

Just out here… scouting where the portable bathrooms might vibe best.
That’s how my day in Narragansett started.

But it wasn’t just logistics—it was legacy.

We walked the rocky, overgrown lot across from the D’Angelo’s beautiful waterfront home, where Samantha and Francesca’s wedding will happen in May 2026.

Right now? It’s ticks, weeds, and dreams.
By next year? It’ll be a fairytale - the Pinterest wedding of the decade

And the roots? Already planted.
We’re talking deep-rooted, pull-'em-up, turn around and they’re back. Like… Japanese Knotweed roots. If you don’t know, look it up. That stuff is indestructible—and so are we.

The Hanos. The D’Angelos. The Braunsteins. The Katzes.
The future in-laws. The dogs (and cats). The daughters (and brothers).

We’re officially tangled—beautifully, permanently, hilariously.

One wedding.
Two daughters.
Four families.
And a thousand roots we’ll never untangle—because we’re not supposed to.

(Sorry Andy, that knotweed is here to stay. Just like us.)

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My Hotel Standards Are Higher Than My Red Blood Cell Count.

You may or may not know this about me, but in a former life, I worked at the Four Seasons and spent years as a meeting planner—traveling the world, sleeping on 1,000-thread-count sheets, and instantly clocking any chipped baseboard, uneven tile, or front desk staff who don’t treat you like you’re the lead singer of their favorite band.

So yes, hotels are my jam, and I am a 5-star snob—proudly.

My assigned wedding task from the girls? Scout the accommodations.
Which is exactly why I found myself wandering Narragansett with a clipboard (okay, my phone) and a mission—and honestly? I’m loving every minute.

And while yes, this blog is about my cancer mess (still not calling it a “journey”), it’s really about this whole year—every chemo round, every wedding errand, every surreal, beautiful, exhausting moment until I (maybe?) ring that mysterious bell.

So here it is—your quick-and-fabulous hotel recap from someone who has very high standards… and no tolerance for bad lighting, lazy lobby setups, or a check-in that doesn’t come with at least a little fanfare.

(And just for the record—I never ask more of anyone than I’ve always asked of myself.)

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🏨 The Break Hotel

I’m in love.
A 16-room boutique gem with ocean views, a rooftop deck, year-round heated pool, and plush seating in every corner.
It’s giving: refined coastal chic with a splash of "I may never leave."

💬 Heads up: Management is in transition, and group contracts/rates won’t be released until the end of the month. But if you’re dreaming of staying here (like me), stay tuned.  My pictures did not do it justice so here is the link: The Break Hotel: Narraganset

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🏡 BnB Heaven: Coastal Homes in Narragansett

Saw three stunning vacation rentals:
• The Sage House
• The Coral House
• The Blue House

I want to move into all of them.
📍 Check out the full collection at beachnboard.com

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🛏️ The Shore House

A 31-room inn with various options. I'm heading over today to find a two-night option for guests over Memorial Day Weekend. Will report back—because you know I will not hold back.

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🚫 The Not-So-Glam Hotel Warning: Aqua Blue

We checked it out. And… yeah, no. Ghost town vibes. Everything’s “under renovation” (translation: never happening). Weird energy, unclear progress, and not the kind of uncertainty you want for your wedding weekend. Hard Pass.

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Challenge Question: Let’s Flip the Script

You’ve been listening. You’ve shown up. I feel it—and I’m so grateful beyond words.

Now I want to hear from you:
What’s something that kept you up at night—some unresolved thing you carried—until it finally settled? And when it did, you felt… ?

It can be silly. It can be huge.
Was it closure? A resolution? Finding your passport at the last second?

Drop it below. Text me. Visit me. I want to know.

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Final Reminders (Before Round 5)

• ✅ Round 5: May 6

• ✅ Round 6: May 27

• ✅ Surgery: June 24

• ✅ Pathology results & treatment plan: July 7 oncology follow-up

• The rest: TBD

I’ll be getting infusions for a year after surgery. We don’t know yet what they’ll be.

1. More chemo? Possibly.

2. Radiation? Likely

3. Immunotherapy or antibody treatment? Non-negotiable – Definitely.

I’ve got this.  Any questions? Just reach out. I love chatting once you’ve read the blog.
Seriously. Read first. Then call.  xoxoxo