It’s like they threw me in a blender at the end of June and I’m being poured out just in time for a new school year. Cancer, man, it’s a trip. I had a skin sparing double mastectomy on July 19, and the following couple weeks are a blur. And then it was all appointments, waiting, stripping that one drain that wouldn’t let up, and wondering if I’d have to do chemo. I found out on Monday that I won’t be doing it this time around, and my relief, overwhelming. I’ll do it again if it is important to extend my life, but I have never felt so detached from my life and whether I lived or died as I did when I was doing chemo. Happy to not go back there.

But there’s still a lot of healing to do, and more surgeries and treatments. I’m still fatigued. If you don’t know the difference between being tired and fatigue, ask one of your friends recovering from surgery, living with fibromyalgia, or doing pregnancy. I don’t know what my body will be up for each day, and when it turns off it really turns off. I can’t really put into words what it feels like, but believe me, it’s a rough go, and all the sleep in the world can’t fix it. For me, it’s my body’s way of telling me to slow down, we’re still healing, take it easy.