A Sigh of Relief

December 17, 2025

There are moments in this process when the air feels heavier than usual, when you don’t realize how tightly you’ve been holding your breath until your body finally lets it go.

Today was one of those moments.

I got the PET scan results back, and while nothing about cancer is ever wrapped up with a neat bow, this one landed in the category of better. Not perfect. Not finished. But better. After weeks of waiting, imagining, and replaying worst-case scenarios in my head, better feels like a deep, full exhale.

Things look improved. Enough improvement that the plan moves forward.

Next week, the CAR-T process begins.

There’s something grounding about having a sold plan and being able to move towards execution. Appointments on the calendar. A sequence of steps instead of a fog of “we’ll see.” It doesn’t erase the fear, but it gives it edges, boundaries. It turns the unknown into something you can at least point at.

The next chapter includes chemo over the Christmas holiday, which is not how anyone would script a Hallmark movie, and an inpatient stay right at the start of the new year. It’s not lost on me how strange it is to measure time now not in seasons or milestones, but in treatments, scans, and admission dates. Still, there’s movement. Forward movement.

Tonight, I’m sitting with a quiet sense of gratitude. For good doctors. For modern medicine that can take my own cells and train them to fight. For people who have checked in, sent notes, offered rides, sat in the uncertainty with me. For a body that, despite everything, is still showing up and responding.

This isn’t the end of the story. But it’s a hopeful paragraph.

One better scan.

One step closer.

One breath released.

Tonight, I plan to drink a good French wine while eating Thai food. A small, quiet celebration. Nothing extravagant, just a moment to mark forward motion and let myself enjoy being right here, right now.

Onward.