It’s a month, today, since my final radiation treatment.
In these four glorious weeks, I’ve been living it up and lollygagging with good friends and good family.
I’ve grown some eyelashes and some hair.
I’ve stepped up to the scariness of public speaking.
I’ve coasted obliviously through a significant earthquake.
I’ve enjoyed schedule-free summer days with Lucy and Bayla.
I’m now two weeks into my five years of hormone therapy and — touch wood — its been blissfully imperceptible.
My white blood count is still low (I had a good cry over that news this morning). And various muscles and joints are still struggling with the effects of chemo.
But I feel like myself again — only better, stronger and happier. Really.
I am the rebuilt me.
And, with every thought and every choice, I’m working to stay that way.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.