I like to hear myself write. That's why I do it.
But these last few months I've been really quiet. Partly because I didn't know what to say. Partly because my past writing started to feel strange to me, like it didn't mean anything. I almost published a one-liner that just said, "Shut the fuck up, Jacqui." And I guess by saying that out loud, it's done its job.
This morning, I found it again. That urge to share what's happening.
I've been sitting with how to tell people I have breast cancer. I haven't been able to land on a way that feels right. Here's how it shifted.
About 2am, stumbling into the kitchen for water with T-Rex arms (if you know, you know), spilling said water, then doing what I've done for 55+ years... lunge forward to clean it up. Oh wait. Searing pain on the right side. Let's write about it.
Cancer is special. Cancer doesn't give a fuck. ("Fuck Cancer" as a slogan really doesn't add up since cancer doesn't care what you call it.)
Family history. Not always, but often. Toxic chemical exposure. Yes, that too. Hormones. Cancer goes both ways, just for the fun of it. Hormone negative. Hormone positive. Age. Not really a factor. It can come the first year after birth or the year you die at 95. It can be really, really bad or, as we've been calling mine, the best of bad news.
My right nipple was bleeding one morning in mid-March. I wouldn't have even noticed if Greg hadn't seen it. I usually wear black. But a dear friend challenged me to stop wearing black for a few months, and you all know I love a challenge. I did what most of us do: I asked AI. What should I do? All three of them, Grok, ChatGPT, and Claude, said the same thing: go to the doctor. Robots are consistent. So I went, pretty quickly. Then came the labyrinth of medical care: scans, imaging, blood draws. Fear. Support. Love. Anger. Defeat. Hope. Courage. Determination. Eventually an action plan, a new medical team, and a community of amazing friends, my children, and my partner holding out an open hand in every direction I could turn.
Cancer doesn't care where you're from. What you do or did or plan to do. When your next doubles match is. How much work you have on your plate. And what bothered me most: how healthy you are.
I felt great every morning. Mentally and physically. My body was strong, supple, and had endurance and speed. In the last few years I had finally, really, felt comfortable in it most of the time. What a gift. And then a little bit of cancer in the right breast changes everything. If you let it.
I haven't eaten sugar in over two years. I don't smoke. I don't drink. I may be a little self-righteous about it, but I am definitely not as bad as my vegan friend and I ordering dinner at TJ's Steak House. Friends and loved ones call me for health advice. They do! I analyze my six-month blood work. I do preventive care. I spend regular time with alternative care (which should honestly just be called care). I eat well. I sleep well. I have meaningful work. I take all the right supplements. I drink water all day. I exercise. I do stress-relief breathwork. I focus on the positive. I have a robust and super fun social life. I am nailing life. And now I'm five days out from a bilateral mastectomy.
I'm resting. Food magically appears at my front door around 5PM every evening. Thank you. Funny texts. Flowers. The outpouring of love over the past weeks is beautifully overwhelming, consistent, and grounding. And now....
(There is not an appropriate segue sentence that can go here, so I will awkwardly move on briefly talk about XO Jacqui.)
Alexis and I have been here for almost five years, making this protein powder. We even made a special one for Johanna when we started, to support her post-cancer life. Now I am drinking it with that underlying thread between us.
I'm not sure how much I'll write. What I know is that both Alexis and I are committed to being here for women, all women, where and when we can. However, we can. Sometimes that means sharing what's actually happening through this blog. Sometimes it means staying quiet. We're here either way.
More soon.
I promise it won't just be the "beat cancer smoothie" or "5 ways to stay on track when you've been diagnosed with breast cancer." Or maybe it will. Living by that old adage, "one day at a time." Join me.
Jacqui