Since wrapping up radiation, I’ve settled into what I like to call the afterparty—but instead of balloons and cupcakes, I got dark little circles stretching from the infamous “shitty tittie” to my armpit. It’s giving abstract art meets overcooked pancake. I’ve been moisturizing like my life depends on it—twice a day, gentle rubs, like I’m trying to negotiate peace between my skin cells and the radiation. So far, no treaties signed, but we’re in ongoing discussions.
This week, I made two glamorous trips to the Mayo Clinic runway. The first stop: labs and a chat with my oncologist. Let’s just say my lab report still prefers drama—“Abnormal” might as well be its stage name. My hemoglobin tiptoed back into the normal range (yay!), but my white blood cell situation is still living its rebellious teen phase—too high here, too low there. And potassium? Let’s just say I probably need to add a few more bananas to my life.
But honestly, I’ve decided not to make lab results the measure of my health anymore. With oral chemo just around the corner (yay, pills! said no one ever), I’ve accepted that those numbers will be doing their own interpretive dance. Instead, I’m focusing on things I can control: maintaining a healthy weight that’s not chemo-induced, and protecting my mental peace like it’s Beyoncé’s security detail.
My second trip to Mayo was for my Keytruda treatment, a.k.a. the 21-day stomach rumble reminder. You know that moment when your stomach turns into a washing machine and your body’s like, “RUN, NOW”? That’s the Keytruda way. I made it—barely—to the bathroom every time. I consider it cardio.
The rest of the week was fairly uneventful, which in cancer land translates to “absolutely delightful.” I got back to walking—like, really walking. I’m back at 10,000 steps a day! Originally, I planned to build up slowly, but my body was like, “Girl, we’ve been here before—let’s go!” So I upped the goal. Why not fight harder? Cancer picked the wrong one.
My meal plan is mostly on track, with the occasional detour into Sweet Tooth City. I mean, are you really living if you’re not enjoying the occasional brownie or slice of cake? (Don’t answer that if you’re one of those “fruit is dessert” people—we’re not the same.)
I’m still living the intermittent fasting life—eating between set hours, but more mindful now that food isn’t just a schedule, it’s fuel. With cancer in the rearview (hopefully forever), I’m bombarded daily by lists of things that supposedly cause it. Air, emotions, gluten, your cousin’s attitude… who knows what’s true anymore? So, I’m just focusing on what feels good and gives my body the best fighting chance.
In the strength department, I’ve started resistance training again. Every Saturday, I check my body composition using Samsung Health. Fat mass is going down—yay! But the app still has me in the red zone, like “Nice try, but you’re still spicy.” Honestly, it’s a little discouraging. Like, can I get a digital high-five or something?
Sleep is still my white whale. The goal is seven hours, but when your kids are living their best lives past 8pm and your alarm goes off at 3am, you start to question your life choices. I need a bedtime as early as your great-aunt’s and I’m not even mad about it—just sleepy.
Next week, I get a medical break—10 whole days without a single appointment. It feels like summer vacation, minus the beach and plus the Pikmin. Yes, Pikmin Bloom has entered my life. It’s part walk tracker, part flower garden, part adorable chaos. If you don’t know what it is, go ahead and Google it—I’ll wait. Let’s just say my walks are now accompanied by tiny digital plant-people who cheer me on. It’s oddly therapeutic.
That’s all for now. I’ll be out here moisturizing, walking, dodging sugar cravings, and vibing with my Pikmin until it’s time to suit up for the next medical mission.
Until next time, friends—stay weird, stay well, and for the love of baby hair, moisturize everything.
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