“I’m Radioactive, Radioactive” - July 10, 2026

Hi everyone! It’s summer on the Cape, which means two things: 1. It’s crowded. 2. You better not need emergency services because you’ll die before the ambulance can get to you. Lol.

I am over halfway done with radiation, 8 out of 15, which is a walk in the damned park compared to everything else. I am so grateful that something is actually going right. The radiation floor is right below the chemo floor—it’s brand new, the people are wonderful, and I genuinely am starting to feel better. This feels like a nice way to wrap up the last part of active treatment. I just lay on a table, the machine arcs around me going “EEeeeEEE” every so often, and then I’m done. I don’t feel anything and it takes 15 minutes. My radiation oncologist isn’t exactly Mr. Personality, but he does have a penchant for weird socks! Yesterday it was the Magic 8 Ball messages all over. The day before, it was a sloth wearing surgery scrubs. I guess it really is the little things, huh? My last session is slated for July 21, which is 3 months to the day that I finished chemo. Man, I love synchronicity.

With active treatment wrapping up, I have officially entered survivor territory and I am starting to piece my life back together. My tattoo artist-turned-friend, who has been absolutely amazing through this whole ordeal, hired me to pick up the phones and do the books a few days a week. This is the best setup I could possibly have while trying to ease back into being a functional member of society—it’s a small shop, I have known the artists for years, and I know for a fact everything they need from me are all things I’m good at. In September, I am planning on applying to a Peer Wellness program. There has been a push lately to recruit healthcare professionals that bridge the gap between patient and provider and other advocate-type roles, and I really think this would jive with the direction I want to go in. I want to work with cancer patients. I’ve had the rare experience of being on both sides of the equation, both patient and caretaker, and I want to put that experience to good use. There are nights I’m kept awake by the memories of certain things that went down. I feel like this will also help me rewrite some of the scarier parts of this journey into something I feel I have control over—by being helpful to someone else going through it.

I’m working. I’m going to flea markets and estate sales. I’m seeing people and meeting new ones. My eyebrows are back. I think my ex has finally f*cked off for good. Life feels so, so much more normal now. I’m wearing clothes that I never could’ve with boobs! I look and feel more like me than I have in the last 10 months. Every inch of progress, every hair that grows, every healthy cell my body makes are all reasons to celebrate. Everyone has said “cancer changes you,” and I think I’m seeing some of that…I think I am still the same person I was before. All the things that make me me are still intact and unchanged. But I think I’ve developed this really solid but quiet sense of confidence in my decision making, my capacity to handle really difficult things, and just myself in general. I feel like I have kept myself in this box of low-paying jobs, non-committal relationships, and a small geographical radius because it felt safe. The box I once thought was protecting me is suffocating me and selling me short now. There is more to life than what my anxiety allows me to think about.

I thought about my first chemo earlier today. I remember dozing off at some point from the meds, then waking up and thinking I was on the ceiling…and panicking so hard I nearly flung myself out of the recliner. It’s just insane that since then, I did 15 more cycles, 7 surgeries, I nearly died twice, and 8 rounds of radiation. And I’m still here. Next time you hear from me, it’ll be detailing the maintenance plan (which is kind of long and involved, lol). But I will be done with active treatment! It’s really hard to believe that this might be one of the last updates I send out. I feel like I was diagnosed 2 weeks ago, but also like a century has passed and I’m 2,378 years older than I was before. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I like to think I just accumulated 2,378 years' worth of wisdom and grit. If that's true, then maybe all of this wasn't just about getting through treatment—it was about becoming someone better equipped for whatever comes next. Certain things really are timeless in life.

Thank you, as always, for reading these updates, for checking in, for sending meals, memes, prayers, good vibes, and encouragement when I needed them most. Every act of kindness carried me farther than you probably realized. I don't know exactly what the next chapter looks like yet, but for the first time in a long time, I'm genuinely excited to find out. I'll let you know when I ring the bell in a couple of weeks!

All my love,

Chernobyline