LET’S LEAD WITH THE HEADLINE, PEOPLE: I AM IN REMISSION!

Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, medical science. Thank you to whoever invented nugget ice.

It’s been exactly one month since my last blog post, and what a month it’s been. When I last posted, I was in the thick of it, halfway through radiation therapy and just starting diet chemo, because apparently my doctors thought I wasn’t busy enough and decided to throw both treatments at me simultaneously. They warned me that overlapping treatments would be “harder”, but they felt the timing was right.

The main side effects were severe exhaustion, plus some gnarly radiation burns from the approximately 500,000 chest X-rays worth of radiation. For context, that’s like getting a bad sunburn that sticks with you for 6 weeks, but from the inside out, and without the fun beach day that usually comes with it.

My last radiation session was November 13th, the day after my most recent chemo infusion, because why not stack appointments like I’m trying to speedrun cancer treatment? I had to reschedule my final radiation appointment because I’d missed the previous day for chemo (the irony of missing cancer treatment for cancer treatment was not lost on me). This turned out to be a blessing because they moved my appointment to 4:25 PM, which meant THE KIDS COULD COME RING THE BELL WITH ME AFTER SCHOOL.

Now, a quick sidebar about bell ringing that I have mentioned in a previous post. UT Southwestern doesn’t do the bell thing because they’re mindful that not everyone gets to ring it, which I totally respect. But Texas Oncology is all about that celebratory bell life. Hearing my kids ring that bell was worth every single one of those exhausting days.

It has now been over a week since my last radiation and chemo infusion, and I’m finally starting to feel like a human being again instead of a sentient pile of laundry that occasionally gets up to eat bagel crisps. This newfound energy means I’ll be going back to physical therapy next week to work on getting full mobility back in my right arm. Apparently, having two functional arms helps put up Christmas decorations. Who knew?

Life is beautifully, wonderfully, gloriously normal right now. Beau is playing second grade basketball and having an absolute blast. Norah is preparing for her Christmas band concert on the flute, and based on what I hear her practicing at home, she’s doing wonderfully.

The Christmas tree is up, the lights are on the house, tickets to the Shane and Shane Christmas concert have been purchased, and I am SO ready to celebrate this season. We’re looking forward to 2026, which will involve significantly fewer doctor’s appointments, zero radiation burns, and, dare I dream, the ability to enjoy a full year without a single medical professional telling me I need to “take it easy.”

Here’s to remission, to family, to ringing bells, and to finally having the energy to care about the Christmas cookies disappearing, but not enough energy to stop eating them myself. Cancer survivors shouldn’t have to explain their cookie intake. 

I am a cancer survivor.