Update - Cancer

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 May 3rd, 2025

It’s been a while.

I promised you I’d share this journey with you, so here I am — back again, heart on the page.

If you’ve been with me from the beginning, you’ll remember that entry from October 2020. The cold that wasn’t a cold. The mass on the x-ray. The voice in the dark that whispered, “I’m going to follow you around for the rest of your life.”

That was the beginning of my lung cancer diagnosis. Stage 4. It changed everything.

Then in 2023, like life hadn’t already tested me enough, came the words: “You have breast cancer.” Another blow. Another round. Another fight. I didn’t even have time to catch my breath before I was thrown back into the ring.

Two different types of cancer in one lifetime — that’s not just unlucky. That’s a cosmic punchline I wasn’t ready for. And yet, here I am. Still standing.

And today... I have something to tell you.
Something I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to say.

My latest scans — just last week — came back clean.
Let me say that again, slower: There is no evidence of cancer in my body.

I sat with those words for a long time. Not because I didn’t believe them — but because I did. And they felt like sunlight on skin after years of winter.

I’m still on medication. This journey isn’t “over” in the storybook sense. I take pills every day to keep the cancer at bay, to hold the monster in the shadows. And I will, for the foreseeable future.

But for now, right now — I’m cancer-free.

That doesn’t mean the fear disappears. It doesn’t mean I don’t feel that phantom pressure behind me sometimes, the one I told you about years ago. But today... today it feels lighter. Quieter. The gun isn’t gone, but it’s not pressed against me either. Doc Holliday just has it holstered. Walking behind me. 



Today I can breathe without the shadow.

This post is a celebration. A testimony. But it’s also a quiet moment of gratitude, just between us. I’ve lived more life since that first diagnosis than I ever thought I’d get to. I’ve laughed more. Cried more. Felt more alive than ever.

If you're still here reading this — thank you. You’ve walked beside me on some of the darkest paths. You’ve listened when I couldn’t find the words. And even if you never said a thing, I felt you there.

I’ll keep sharing this road. I don’t know what’s ahead, but for now, the sun is shining on me, and I am so thankful.

Talk soon.

I love you all.
Always.

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