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Surviving the Battle: One Year Later

 It's been a minute since I last checked in with y'all. Today marks one year since my breast decided to go rogue and try to take me out. But guess what? They didn't win! I'm still here, kicking ass and taking names. So, let's take a trip down memory lane and reflect on the rollercoaster ride that was the past year. The anniversary of my triple negative breast cancer diagnosis, with a 43 percent survival rate. As I reflect on this past year, I also acknowledge the one-year anniversary of my father's passing. While I don't like to intertwine these two journeys, I feel it's important to acknowledge both and share my experiences transparently. Despite being four months into remission, I must admit that fear still lingers within me. In this blog post, I want to share my ongoing active treatment, the challenges I faced during chemotherapy, the strength I found as a mother, and the pride I have in my body's resilience. Additionally, I will touch upon my upcoming immunotherapy, exchange surgery, and the importance of mental health throughout this journey.

One year ago today, I received the news that no one ever wants to hear: "You have cancer." Talk about a punch to the gut. It felt like my world was crumbling around me. But you know what they say, when life gives you lemons, make some damn lemonade. And that's exactly what I did.I embraced my diagnosis with a twisted sense of humor. I mean, come on, my own breast tried to kill me! Who does that? It's like my body decided to play a sick joke on me. But I wasn't about to let it win. I named my tumor "Larry" and made jokes about him being the worst roommate ever. Larry overstayed his welcome, but I kicked his sorry ass out

talk about a double whammy. It felt like the universe was playing a cruel joke on me. I mean, seriously, could life get any more messed up? But amidst the pain and heartache, I found strength.

I channeled my grief into something positive. I started a blog, pouring my heart out and sharing my experiences with the world. I found solace in connecting with others who were going through similar struggles. It was like having a support group on steroids. We laughed, we cried, and we lifted each other up. And through it all, I realized that I wasn't alone.

One year ago today, I didn't think I'd be here, embracing this year. But here I am, stronger than ever. Cancer may have tried to knock me down, but it only made me rise higher. I've learned to appreciate the little things in life, to cherish every moment, and to never take anything for granted.

Sure, there were days when I felt like giving up. Days when the pain was unbearable, and the future seemed bleak. But I pushed through, fueled by the love and support of my friends and family. They became my rock, my reason to keep fighting.

So, here's to one year of kicking cancer's ass and surviving the storm. I may have battle scars, both physical and emotional, but they serve as a reminder of my strength and resilience. I wear them proudly, like badges of honor.

Life is unpredictable, fam. It throws curveballs when you least expect it. But it's how you handle those curveballs that defines you. I chose to face my demons head-on, armed with a dark sense of humor and an urban slang attitude. Cancer may have tried to break me, but it only made me stronger.

So, as I reflect on this past year, I raise a glass to all the warriors out there. Whether you're battling cancer, grief, or any other demons, know that you're not alone. Embrace your journey, find humor in the darkness, and never stop fighting. We got this. We're survivors.


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Before my breast cancer diagnosis, I was incredibly shallow. I was obsessed with my appearance and always striving to live up to the model image I had created for myself. I even dreamed of posing for Playboy one day. But after a double mastectomy, I am now so self-conscious that I can hardly recognize myself. It took me almost a month to look down at my chest after the surgery. I cried and cried for hours in the bathroom, wondering how this could be happening to me. I had always been so confident in my body, and now I felt like a stranger in my own skin. As a mother, I struggled with how to teach my daughter to be confident when I was struggling so much myself. How could I tell her to love herself when I didn't even recognize myself anymore? I was grateful for my surgeon's skilled hands and for getting the cancer out, but I hated the results. When people say that a mastectomy is not a boob job, they are right. The scars and the fact that I will never have sensation again at 34

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