It’s been a jam-packed 48 hours since our first published updates on Wednesday. But if I could summarize it quickly it would be this:

My cup runneth over.

So many ironies. So many meaningful coincidences. So many taps on the shoulder reminding me that a greater good is at play in this situation. Here’s a quick recap.

Wednesday morning, I found out that my chemo would start Monday. It took me by surprise a bit, but I welcomed getting on with it and so held no hesitation toward it whatsoever. But I realized how quickly things were now moving, and so the ticking clock made it essential that we went live with this website with the first updates… upon which I was showered with ocean waves of love and prayers and encouragement and generosity the likes of which I’ve never experienced. I am deeply grateful for each and every one of you. I could feel your love and prayers immediately.

A message to those of you who have also fought this fight: Hearing your success stories and encouragement deeply fortified me, adding yet another priceless layer of confidence to my neophyte journey. It will be my pleasure to pay it forward to others as you have so unabashedly with me. Thank you.

While behind our closed guest room door that evening, I posted my first personal update to the website and social media. I wrote this message in between wrapping birthday presents for Henry. At some point, I stopped, smiled, and snapped a pic of the small pile of gifts.

The irony.

The beautiful irony.

The role of a mother never stops. And isn’t that the blessing? The cause and the effect all at once. Some pivotal questions unanswered, and yet it didn’t change anything really. My answer was still the same. My answer was the recipient of these gifts.

Thursday… Henry turned 8. EIGHT! Holy cow, time is slipping through my fingers like river water. We gave him two special gifts, danced a little birthday dance, and dropped him off at school before speeding to Santa Barbara for a 10-hour day of final imaging that would answer all our remaining questions once and for all. The biggest part of the day was the PET scan. It’s rare that they find cancer in both breasts, so when the MRI picked up something suspicious in the second breast, I was worried that it was perhaps a sign of more spreading elsewhere. The PET scan would show us that spread, if any.

I finished the 4-hour PET/CT Scan and rushed to the Imaging Center for an ultrasound and lymph marker placement. Laying on the bed, my phone beeped with a text from Dr. Kass.

“Great pet scan report – let me know when you can talk.”

(Side note: How often does a doctor text you, and only 20 minutes after the completion of the PET scan at that.) Not only did the PET scan come back clear of any new information, but it was also determined that the spot in my left breast was benign… which means that the cancer is indeed localized to the 3cm tumor and lymph node (with some additional surrounding activity in its axillary nodes) in the one breast only! With several forms of cancer widespread on both sides of my family, this was a true concern… one that I was extraordinarily relieved wasn’t realized.

Additionally, we now officially had all the information. All questions had been answered. No questions remained. We crossed every t; dotted every i. We have a plan in place that is solid and complete.

 It was a good feeling.

That evening, we celebrated not only Henry’s birthday at my parent’s house, but all the blessings from the last 24 hours. And I slept through the night for the first time since I received the diagnosis.

Today, we headed down to Santa Barbara for a pre-chemo blood draw and “Chemo Class.” It was basically 17 pages of possible side effects. I couldn’t have cared less. In fact, I’m strangely amped to get it going. I’m certain that positive mindset and confidence is due to God’s deep involvement and your love and prayers.

Let’s get on with it.