When I was about to start chemo last winter, one of my very best friends, Sarah, gave me a care package including a cancer hat (which I still have), a few lovely odds and ends, and this mug.
Technically chemo ended on Star Wars Day (that’s May 4th, for you non-nerds), but treatment didn’t end that day so I saved this mug and smashed the bells my awesome friends brought over for socially-distancing Covid celebration instead.
My mammogram results were available this morning: no signs of any malignancy.
So…other than my normal oncology checkups (which I’ll have for the rest of my life so that’s just part of the new normal) and the meds I’ll be on for the foreseeable future, I’m officially done.
I finished the ritual, got myself some fancy-ass coffee, and in the best “fuck you” I can think of, I’m doing a completely normal day. Work, Greek homework, kickboxing, and letting the dogs out/in the house approximately 708 times between now and bedtime. I also have a couple of book reviews pending and a couple novels to finish writing.
I’m not wasting my time anymore.
For all of you who stuck around, read my posts even when they were full of suck, cleaned my house, brought me food, sat with me when I needed company, took my dog for days at a time so I’d have a break, delivered toilet paper during Covid…I love you all. Thank you.
Also? Go get your boobs checked. The last year sucked in every sort of way, but it would’ve been exponentially worse if it’d been the rest of my life, and early detection is the key.
I’m amused as hell that this is exactly a year and a day, my Pagan and Wiccan folk.