The Quiet Week That Wasn’t So Quiet After All

This week was relatively quiet.

I did a lot of resting and tried really hard not to take pain pills unless I absolutely needed them. I’m learning that healing takes time, whether my brain wants to accept that or not.

Of course, “quiet” in my world doesn’t exactly mean doing nothing.

Because apparently, even while recovering from a bilateral mastectomy and dealing with drains, appointments, and the possibility of chemotherapy, I still have things to do.

Apparently, I am incapable of sitting completely still.

Soap, Pumpkins, and a Halloween Show

I’ve been working on preparations for the Day of the Dead show in Mankato on October 31, 2026. Linda and I will have a booth, so right now I’m working on making soaps for fall.

October will be lotion-making month.

My storage space is limited, so I have to plan this stuff out carefully. I can’t just make everything all at once and hope I can find somewhere to put it.

I’m also crocheting pumpkins and other Halloween decorations for our tables because, well, Day of the Dead actually falls on Halloween this year. That just seems like an excuse to make all kinds of fun stuff.

I’m planning to have at least seven different soap scents available at the show, and after that, I’ll start getting everything loaded onto the website.

Right now, www.alluringtranquility.com is basically just hanging out there, getting very little traffic because, well... I don’t have products on it yet.

Linda absolutely hates sending me pictures of her candles, which makes getting those products onto the website a little difficult.

My stuff, on the other hand, can go up there and be available for purchase because I have the ingredients and supplies here. Everything except the soap can generally be made and shipped within 24 hours.

Soap is a little different.

Soap needs to cure for a minimum of 72 hours to make sure it is safe to use, but ideally, I prefer to cure my soaps for a minimum of four weeks. Normally, I let them cure for at least six weeks.

The longer the soap cures, the harder it becomes, and the longer it tends to last for the person who buys it.

So...

Keep your eyes open.

Things are eventually going to start appearing on the website.

One Drain Down... One Dreaded Drain to Go

When I was in the hospital, they removed my right drain.

Yay me!

Unfortunately, I still have that dreaded left drain.

You know the one.

The one that decided to get infected and turn itself into a whole situation.

When they took me into surgery, they removed the original drain and placed a new one. The original drain was allowed to heal, and the area was opened to allow any remaining ick to drain out.

When I saw my plastics PA on Friday, she said the original drain site looked really good and the right side looked good too.

But...

They weren't taking that left drain out yet.

I was still getting about 20 mL of drainage twice a day, so apparently that drain still has a job to do.

They changed the bulb because it kept coming open, and we stripped the drain to make sure everything was flowing properly.

Overall, though, she said things were looking really good.

And then she said something that honestly made me feel really good.

She told me that I even looked better.

And man, oh man, did I feel better as a whole.

She also clipped away some dead tissue from both sides. Some of us might simply call those things “scabs,” but she wanted to remove the dead tissue so the healthy skin underneath had the best chance of healing as quickly as possible.

Then she sent me on my way with the reassurance that we would meet again the following week to take another look.

Since then, I’ve been getting about 40 mL of drainage over a 24-hour period.

So I’m really hoping that drain comes out on Friday.

Fingers crossed.

Because I am DONE with drains.

Then Came the Oncologist

The next appointment I had to get to was with my oncologist.

She is a lovely woman with a warm, comforting personality.

I first met her back when I was fighting to get my “happy pills,” and I was an absolute mess that day.

This time, I had something else to worry about.

My patient portal had given me some numbers from my testing, so naturally, I did what any completely rational person would do.

I took those numbers and plugged them into Dr. Google.

And according to Dr. Google?

I was getting chemotherapy.

When my oncologist came into the room, I explained my Dr. Google analogy, and she chuckled.

Then she explained what was actually happening.

My Oncotype DX Breast Recurrence Score was high enough that my estimated risk of recurrence was around 17% over the next 10 years without the additional benefit of chemotherapy.

Yes, I had breast cancer.

Yes, the surgery I had on August 27, 2026, removed the girls.

But removing the breasts doesn't mean there is absolutely zero possibility of recurrence. There can still be microscopic cancer cells or cancer cells in other tissue, which is why additional treatment is being considered.

And that's where chemotherapy comes in.

So... Apparently, I'm Getting Chemo

My oncologist went over two chemotherapy options with me.

One was shorter.

One was longer.

The shorter treatment came with a small risk of developing heart problems, including congestive heart failure.

That one was an immediate NOPE for me.

Congestive heart failure is listed on my biological father's death certificate, and my mom struggled with it before she died.

On top of that, I have a heart murmur that I've had since birth that never completely closed up, and I have been dealing with AFib since shortly after Aaron was born.

I wasn't willing to take that chance.

So we're going with the other chemotherapy option.

I will lose my hair.

But the treatment we're choosing doesn't carry that same small risk of permanent hair loss.

So yes...

I will lose my hair.

But it should grow back.

And honestly?

Maybe it will grow back solid gray or white.

If that happens, maybe I won't have to deal with the muddy-looking color and constantly feel like I need to dye it.

There is always a silver lining somewhere, right?

The other possible side effects are the ones you would expect:

Nausea.

Vomiting.

Tiredness.

You know...

The fun stuff.

And because apparently my body hasn't had enough excitement, I'm also starting hormone therapy.

It's a 2.5 mg pill that I'll take at night.

The goal is to help reduce the chance of the cancer coming back, but the side effects can be similar to menopause.

Which brings me to...

I'M GOING TO BE IN MENOPAUSE FOREVER.

Seriously.

Like I need more hot flashes.

OMG.

And then there's the tiredness.

The grumpiness.

People are already apologizing to Kevin.

And this is where I start crying.

Because sometimes I can joke about all of this.

And sometimes I can't.

Sometimes the reality of it all catches up with me.

But I'm Still Here

Even with all of this hanging over my head, I'm still in pretty good spirits.

I want to take a weekend and drive to see my friend Vicki.

I haven't seen her in years and years and years.

My God, I miss her.

Vicki and I went through treatment together when we were teenagers, so there is a history there that is hard to explain to someone who wasn't there.

I also still talk to my friend Amy in Florida. I see her every once in a while, but if I'm being completely honest, sometimes I'm afraid to see her.

She succeeded.

She works for Homeland Security.

She's married.

She has a daughter who is in college.

She has what looks like the all-American life.

And then there's me.

My life has taken the windy road.

But you know what?

I've got an incredible son that I am unbelievably proud of.

He decided against college.

And that's okay.

He earns money online through streaming, but even if he wasn't doing anything with his life right now—if he were sleeping all day, creeping around online all night, and had no income coming in—I would still be proud of him.

Because we all find our purpose at our own speed.

He graduated high school.

He has made conscious, well-thought-out decisions about his life.

He's following through with them.

He's earning a living.

And that is proof positive to me that something went right.

Something good came from me.

I have an incredible husband who has supported me through nearly 20 years together.

We don't have the perfect marriage.

But he takes our vows seriously.

Especially the “in sickness and in health” part.

I removed the “to love, honor, and obey” part.

I don't obey anybody.

But Kevin is a good man who is working hard to support his family right now, even through this mess that I feel like I've gotten us into.

And then there are my friends.

The people who have been there long before cancer ever entered the picture.

The People Who Have Known Me Forever

There's Linda.

I met Linda when I was 16.

We've been through hell together.

Then there's Blanche.

I met her the following year.

I was her coach when her first son was born, and I was there when her youngest daughter was born.

I missed the two in the middle because she had them in the ER in the Cities and had to be flown up there the girls' births.

Blanche and her husband had a rough-and-tumble marriage that ultimately ended in divorce.

Blanche has a story of her own to tell about that marriage.

But through everything, she has raised four incredible kids.

I talk with the twins often.

I love all of her kids.

Her son is grown now and living his own life, and her youngest doesn't really remember me.

But I love them all the same.

Blanche is still very much a part of my life.

Then there's Casey.

She has been my friend for almost as long.

Her life has taken a very different path. She's been in and out of prison while battling her own demons.

I will always love her.

I will always support her.

But I've had to learn that sometimes love has to come with distance.

Because when some of the worst things in my life have happened, Casey hasn't been there.

My mom died while she was going through one of her drug phases, she did come to the funeral, but I don't know that she was really there.

My ER surgeries at the beginning of 2026 happened while she was either high or unavailable.

My dad died while she was in prison.

And now I'm going through breast cancer while she's in prison again.

That doesn't change how I feel about her.

It doesn't erase the history we share.

But it does change how much energy I am able to give her.

I've learned that loving someone doesn't mean you have to destroy yourself trying to save them.

And then there is the TRIED-AND-TRUE, ULTIMATE RIDE-OR-DIE...

My cousin Dawn.

She has been my best friend since the day I was born.

We were raised together.

We've been together our entire lives, even when we haven't physically been together.

We are always together.

She has taken care of me then.

She takes care of me now.

And I know she always will.

Maybe This Is What This Journey Is Really About

Cancer has changed a lot of things.

My body.

My plans.

My calendar.

My hair.

My hormones.

My definition of “rest.”

And apparently, my ability to go anywhere without some kind of medical equipment attached to me.

But it hasn't changed the people who matter.

It has made me look at them differently.

It has made me appreciate the people who show up.

The people who answer the phone.

The people who sit beside you.

The people who make you laugh when you'd rather cry.

The people who have known you since you were sixteen.

The people who have known you since the day you were born.

The people who love you when you're successful and when you're struggling.

The people who don't care if your life looks like the all-American dream.

And maybe that's the thing I'm learning through all of this.

My life doesn't have to look like anyone else's.

It has never been a straight road.

It's been windy.

It's been messy.

It's been painful.

It's been beautiful.

And somehow, through all of it...

I'm still here.

Still healing.

Still making soap.

Still crocheting pumpkins.

Still planning trips.

Still making jokes about menopause.

Still worrying about my hair.

Still crying when it gets too real.

Still loving my people.

Still figuring it all out.

And apparently...

Still not very good at sitting still.

This is my journey.

I never asked for it.

But I'm walking it anyway.

Until next time... keep finding joy in the ordinary, hope in the hard days, and strength you didn't know you had.

Thanks for walking this journey with me.