When I was discussing treatment options with my surgeon for the original tumor, I figured I was for sure winning at cancer because I made her laugh when I told her I wasn’t attached to my breasts, “well, physically I am obviously, but not emotionally.” Essentially saying if you need to take them, so be it. But that was when it was my choice.
From the very beginning of my breast cancer journey, I was impressed with how quickly everything moved forward. I was able to get appointments with doctors within weeks of my positive biopsy. And then when I met with the doctors, they were able to tell me the type of cancer, how fast it was growing, how large it was, and whether it would be responsive to hormone therapy. All from a biopsy and some imaging.
Miguel’s first gift to me on this birthday was writing this week’s blog. Thanks, babe. I love you.
Today is Kelly's birthday. She is 40ish years old. On the outside I still see the twenty something that I met in 2006 under questionable circumstances. Maybe I had a girlfriend at the time. It was so long ago it's hard to remember.
I take a lot of pride in my strength even if it is not strength that I ever wanted to earn. I did earn it and it is mine. Which is why I think that this last week has been so hard. Because for the first time in a long time I have felt vulnerable, I have felt weak, I have not felt like myself – physically or emotionally.
In January, after a routine mammogram and ultra-sound (because dense breast club), the radiologist recommended I get a lump in each breast biopsied. Three weeks later, one turned out to be a large benign cyst. The other was cancer.
This week I’m pivoting from my normal blog style to provide an update on US government funded medical research. With so many eye-catching headlines, there hasn’t been a lot of attention paid to this corner of the government recently – but you should know what’s happening here.
Every five years or so my life has undergone a major life refocusing and it would appear that I am in the midst of one again. And it awkward and uncomfortable and I’m not quite sure what I am supposed to do next.
I am trying to stay informed but not be overwhelmed. To acknowledge the chaos but not succumb to it. To bear witness to the devastation but not let it depress me. And let me tell you, it is hard fucking work. Who knew it would take a global upheaval for me to finally start practicing mindfulness?
If you all are anything like me, you could use a little pick me up right about now. My gift to you this week is a sweet story that comes with the reminder that for some godforsaken reason we have to have darkness before light.
Just when you thought the news couldn’t possibly get any worse, each day this week outdid the one before. I’ve felt deep sorrow, anger, fear, exhaustion, helplessness, a numbing, and an intense lack of motivation. Anything beyond curling up under a blanket with a screen or a book felt like strenuous effort. What was wrong with me? I couldn’t keep going on like this! And then it finally dawned on me that I was going through active grief.
Well folks, 2025 has made her presence known. Personally, I reached a level of doom scrolling this week not seen since the spring of 2020. The world feels heavy and overwhelming and it is difficult to determine where to prioritize concern and focus action. And then my friend Tamika, reminded me about the importance of joy and I think you might need this reminder as well.
Last night, while people mourned their loved ones, homes, business, and jobs in LA, Miguel and I went to the theater. It is a weird feeling this hyperconnectivity. We have access to the intimate details of the grief and loss experienced be those in Palestine, Ukraine, or LA. Yet unless it is in our community, where we can see it, smell it, and directly feel its impact - it all remains distant. Life goes on…
