This past week has felt like I was floating through another universe—one where I somehow managed to avoid overdosing on pain meds (yay me!) while navigating post-surgery life like a champ. I took it easy, followed instructions like the responsible adult I sometimes pretend to be, and made sure to rest. My oncologist appointment got pushed back because my pathology report was still MIA, which meant my Keytruda treatments were also on hold until we had a real heart-to-heart. But that’s fine because cue drumroll—I finally got the call.

It was my surgeon. You know, the one I made awkward small talk with post-anesthesia? She had good news. Actually, scratch that—she had GREAT news. She only needed to remove two lymph nodes, and guess what? They were as clean as my search history when someone asks to borrow my phone. The breast tissue she removed had a teeny tiny amount (2mm) of cancer cells left in the tumor bed, but chemo wiped out 95% of the cancer. Meaning…

🥁 I AM CANCER-FREE! 🥁

Yep. You read that right. No more cancer. Gone. Evicted. Poof.

As soon as the words left her mouth, I turned my house into a full-blown Soul Train set, dancing through every room while texting everyone who had been on this journey with me. My colleagues? Got an email. Family and friends? Blown-up inboxes. The mailman? Okay, maybe not, but if he had shown up, he would’ve gotten an earful of good news too.

Now, post-surgery life hasn’t been all smooth sailing. I’ve been monitoring my incisions, and while they’re mostly behaving (shoutout to surgical glue for holding me together—literally), there’s one little thing. My armpit incision seems to think it’s trying out for the PGA Tour because it’s about the size of a golf ball now. They told me to watch for swelling that gets to golf- or baseball-size, so I messaged my care team with photos. Since I don’t have any of the other warning signs, I figure I can hold out until I hear back. Meanwhile, I’ll keep icing it and hoping it doesn’t try to upgrade to a basketball.

On the neuropathy front, my hands and feet are still giving me that delightful “pins and needles, but make it permanent” feeling. Some days are worse than others, but acupuncture has been my side hustle in nerve repair. As for my nails… let’s just say they still resemble something straight out of The Walking Dead. Most of the infection has cleared, but sometimes, after washing my hands, a little pus sneaks out (yeah, I know, ew). I finally gave in and bought some polish to cover them up—because if I’m going to have zombie nails, at least they’ll be fashionable zombie nails.

My appetite? Well. Let’s just say it’s back with a vengeance. I don’t know if I’m subconsciously making up for all the meals I missed during chemo or if my taste buds are just too excited to be alive again, but I am eating everything in sight. I’ve restarted intermittent fasting (16:8), but let’s be honest, my eight-hour eating window is starting to look more like an episode of Man vs. Food. I may or may not have put on a few pounds (spoiler: I did), but hey—emotional eating is a real thing, and I’m working on reeling it in.

In other post-chemo side effect news, my hair is still MIA, but I’ve reached the point where I’ve embraced the bald look. It’s kinda fierce, not gonna lie. What I do miss, however, are my eyebrows. You don’t realize how much they do until they’re gone—like, hello, facial expressions?! I need those back! My skin is also extra dry, so I’ve stocked up on enough moisturizers to single-handedly keep the skincare industry afloat.

But honestly? None of that can outshine the biggest news of all—I. AM. CANCER. FREE.

I still have a lot of healing ahead, and I’m anxiously waiting to see what my future treatment plan looks like (Keytruda? Radiation? Who knows?). But for now, my focus is on recovering, healing my gut, taking care of my incisions, and maybe—just maybe—figuring out how to drop these extra pounds without giving up snacks.

Until next time, friends—celebrate with me, because we did it! 🎉💃🏽🎊