I did that shit.

I had my one-year postpartum appointment with my doctor this week - December 28th, 2021 - my doctor who has seen me through basically everything personally significant the last four years. I hadn't seen her since before I finished chemo, and being the first of many cancer journey anniversaries to come, I felt a wave of emotions when she sat down with me and asked how I was doing. 363 days earlier, she had referred me for my first mammogram that would change my life forever - almost a year ago exactly. It felt surreal to be sitting there, still trying to get myself to fully believe that the events of the past several months actually happened.

I didn't know how to respond to her question right away. I felt everything. I was good. I was not good. I was happy. I was crushed. I was grateful. I was angry. I was dead inside. I was overjoyed. I was exhausted. I wanted to sob, and I wanted to hug her and never let go. I wanted to tell her every single emotion I had and why but wanted to be respectful of her time, so all I could muster was: "I'm here...! I'm alive." I spent the whole appointment rattling off my medication list and the 25 things currently going wrong with my body, and giving half-ass responses, when I should have spent the time thanking her endlessly for saving my life. I'm still not sure the proper way to do that, so I'm hoping I'll do better next time. For now, I'm blaming my behavior on the brain fog that has recently come in and settled over me like my own personal rain cloud. I'm not sure if it's a side effect of radiation, of my medication...maybe just of 2021?

It hasn't helped that we've had a busy December: I went back to work after a 14 month hiatus; no daycare all month due to a staffing shortage, which gave Joe and I our first taste of pandemic parenting; single Mom-ing for a week while Joe traveled for work; Joe then testing positive for Covid the week before Christmas, and Sadie's molars coming in. It's the moooooost, wonderful tiiiiime, of the yeeeeear! *pours another glass of wine* Whew. No one in our house has slept much this month, and while it was a December fit for 2021, it was a walk in the park compared to the year we've had.

***

My last radiation treatment was Wednesday, October 13, 2021. And wow, is radiation a sneaky little bastard if I've ever met one. I was cruising through my five weeks of treatment, feeling good and slathering on medical grade lotion 4x a day like it was my job. I had three sessions left when my skin took a turn for the worse and gifted me basically the most excruciating pain of my life. Almost overnight, the entire radiation field had turned dark, nearly purple in color and there were several areas where my skin blistered and broke open. Not pretty, on top of an already not pretty sight. I'll forever be haunted by the bolus mold I had to wear during each session - that was the real culprit. I was so relieved to get through my last few sessions and ring the bell to signal the end of my treatment. I would spend the next three weeks going through copious amounts of more medical lotion, bandaging the skin that was ripping off my body, and taking more pain medication than I did after my double mastectomies...but hey...I had made it. I was done. The last of my big treatment hurdles was behind me.

***

What a year. 2021 still doesn't seem real to me. I can picture every step of this journey so clearly, and yet the past 12 months are a blur. I look back at pictures of me pre-cancer, and I don't even know that person anymore. I'm in a constant emotional paradox. Cancer left me broken. Traumatized. Ugly. It seemingly shattered every innocent bright outlook for the future I had for myself. And at the same time, I've never felt stronger or more empowered. Grateful. Cancer brought me to hell and back, but the results of my efforts and my doctors' efforts give me every reason to be hopeful for the years ahead and living a long life with Joe and Sadie. I look back on this year and unbelievable as it was...I mean...I did that shit. I dug deep and found grit I never knew I had and it gives me a sense of pride that I pray others will never understand.

I've never been more ready for a New Year, a mostly blank slate. Two more infusions to go in January and I can say goodbye to my port-a-cath. I'll have it removed in February at the same time my implants go in. After having (hopefully) the worst January and birthday of my life this past year, I am making it a personal goal to have an AMAZING January and birthday in 2022. Nothing but sunshine and rainbows. And champagne.

Goodbye, 2021 -- nice try knocking me down. 2022, let's see what you've got!