This week felt like a small return to pre-chemo life. I mean, I’m not as strong as I was before, my hands are still numb like they’ve been left out in the cold for too long, and my taste buds are still acting brand new, but overall? Definitely an improvement.
The week kicked off with a breast MRI—something I had been anxiously waiting for because, after five months of chemo’s nonsense, I was ready for some positive news. Now, if you’ve never had a breast MRI, let me paint a picture for you. You lay on your stomach, arms stretched above your head like a superhero about to take flight. Your boobs? Well, they dangle down into some sort of cup-like contraption, while your booty is perched in the air like it’s ready to audition for a twerk contest. Now, as someone who suffers from devilish diarrhea and spontaneous flatulence, this position is risky business. I spent the entire 20-minute scan in a deep state of prayer, begging my body not to betray me. The last thing I needed was to fumigate the MRI room and have my name added to some hospital watchlist.
After escaping the MRI with my dignity intact, I had a little time before my appointment with the surgeon—so naturally, I did what any sensible person would do: I napped in my truck. Because if there’s one thing cancer has taught me, it’s that sleep is a non-negotiable.
Finally, it was time to meet with the surgeon. I came dressed for the occasion because I knew an exam was on the agenda, but before we got to that, she reviewed my MRI results. And there it was—the moment I had been waiting for. The mass was gone.
Now, inside? I was doing cartwheels and backflips. But on the outside? Apparently, I looked like I was just mildly impressed, because my surgeon gave me a look like, Ma’am, do you understand the words coming out of my mouth? I mean, I did tell her it was great news, but I guess I didn’t sell the excitement well enough. (I blame the fatigue.) We discussed the details of my upcoming surgery, then set a date—February 28. That was the earliest I could get in, and the sooner, the better. Let’s get this show on the road so I can start healing and be summer-ready!
Later in the week, I had my usual labs. They’re still showing abnormal results, but at least some levels are slowly creeping back toward normal. Then, there was my Keytruda infusion, which I get every 21 days. Since it’s been two weeks since my last chemo treatment, I’m now playing the waiting game to see if Keytruda alone wants to throw any surprises my way. So far, three days in, no side effects—but let’s not say that too loud before my body decides to act up.
Now, onto one of the most interesting parts of my week: acupuncture.
I walked into the building, and immediately, it felt like a spa. The soft music, the calming trickling of water, and the peaceful ambiance? I almost forgot I was there for nerve repair and not a deep-tissue massage. My acupuncturist, Christine, was amazing. She took the time to go over my physical and mental health, diet, and cancer journey, then handed me a whole document of recommendations for cancer patients. Clearly, she knows her stuff.
Two standout recommendations:
✔ Eat one Umeboshi Plum per day – Supposedly great for digestion and taste buds. I wasted no time and ordered them immediately.
✔ Eat 3-4 Brazil nuts daily – Great for selenium intake. (But apparently, you have to be careful not to OD on selenium. Who knew?)
Then came the actual acupuncture part. Christine explained that she’d place needles in certain areas and look for changes in sensation—heat, cold, waves, anything. My hands? Nothing. My feet? Nothing. Then finally, my right ankle tingled in a way I couldn’t quite describe. She tried to push the sensation to my toes, but they weren’t cooperating. Rude. But hey, baby steps. I’m hopeful for my next session.
Now, about those Umeboshi plums… Whew, they are SALTY. Like, “let me sip a whole bottle of water” salty. But they’re supposed to help with taste, so I’ll suffer through. And speaking of taste, I had a meal where I actually recognized the flavors! I don’t fully remember what it used to taste like, but I tasted something, so we’re calling that a win.
Next week, I have a few pre-op appointments, but I’m feeling optimistic. This train is moving, and healing is on the horizon. Let’s keep it rolling!
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