Today’s blog post is about gratitude. Because one thing I do in life is take something that feels negative or scary and flip it. I look for the piece I can grab and hold onto that is good. There is almost always something.

Even though I have been focused on surgery and fear and countdowns, I needed to shake myself, dust myself off, and say yes, I am scared. And also this.

There is a lot to be grateful for. So here it is. My running list of unexpected upsides.

My lifetime risk of breast cancer goes from almost 50 percent to 2 percent.

That one still takes my breath away.

My boys get to see what it looks like to embrace proactive, preventative health instead of waiting for something to happen.

They also get to see that strong women cry. That courage and fear can sit at the same table. That asking for help is not weakness.

I am having surgery at a world class hospital.

My surgical team comes highly recommended by someone I trust deeply. My childhood friend walked this same path because of her high risk, and she came out strong. That kind of firsthand reassurance matters.

My mom was part of the Johns Hopkins Hospital system. Having my surgery there feels like I have a little piece of her with me.

I tapped into my creative side and started this blog. Apparently impending surgery is what it took for me to finally learn WordPress and secure a cool domain.

I have found a new community of strong and resilient women who speak a language I did not know I needed to learn.

If someone else ends up on this path, I can be a voice. Or at least a flashlight.

If I want to wear a dress without straps or a back, I will not have to negotiate with a bra ever again.

No more mammograms.

No more MRIs.

I am part of a clinical trial that will hopefully move care forward for women in my situation. That feels bigger than me.

Because this is prophylactic, I was able to take my time. I researched. I interviewed surgeons. I chose my team. I am walking into this empowered, not blindsided. That is a privilege.

I am reminded, again, that I can do hard things.

I have a wonderful job with leadership that allows me the time and space to heal and recover.

I have access. To insurance. To flexible work. To proximity to a world class hospital. To resources that let me prepare instead of panic. Not everyone has that, and I do not take it lightly.

I will finally catch up on binge watching and work through my growing stack of books.

I had a very legitimate excuse to buy new sheets, blankets, and bedding. If I am going to nest, I am going to nest properly.

I am strangely grateful for forced stillness. For a season where productivity is not the measure. For time at home that cannot be scheduled away.

My tribe has shown up in ways that make me feel deeply loved and supported. And my tribe keeps growing – and that will always bring me joy – a nod back to my life mottos.

If there was ever any doubt that I married the most supportive, loving, caring man, an impending surgery erased it. Love shows up in logistics. In driving you to appointments. In pretending not to worry. In quietly taking on more without announcing it.

And all of his saved meal preps from TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook reels are finally about to have their moment to shine. Apparently I am now the official guinea pig for his test kitchen era. I have been promised lemon cake.

Though someone please remind him that I will remain bossy even in recovery and will be requesting orange Jell-O on demand.

Orange Jell-O may not scream culinary excellence to some. But it is elite in my book. It is also a core memory. My grandmother used to make it for me whenever I was sick. So now it is comfort wrapped in love and nostalgia, with a little bit of jiggle.

I will be chauffeured around for a few weeks.

I will get help with my bags at the airport when I am cleared to travel again. I may lean into that one longer than medically necessary.

I leaned back into therapy and reconnected with a provider who knows me well and can help me unpack not just surgery fears, but the other layers of life I tend to carry quietly.

I now own a small wardrobe of Velcro tops. Button down shirts and I may even become friends again.

Even though I prefer to keep my blood inside my body, I did receive a clean bill of health from my labs. I suppose if I had to donate some, at least it came with good news.

I am grateful that my body is otherwise strong. My heart is healthy. My lungs are clear. My body is capable of healing. Strength is not theoretical for me. It is real.

I get to recover in winter, heal during the start of my favorite season – when days start getting longer, when the birds are starting to chirp and green shoots remind us summer will be here soon.

I will meet my insurance deductible, which means 2026 is officially my year of preventative health. Next up, dermatologist. Because I am a child of the 90s and tanning beds were absolutely a thing.

I already have a talented medical tattoo artist on deck.

I know myself. Needle phobic and all. I know my triggers. I know how to breathe through them. I know how to talk to my Mom in parking lots. Self awareness is not glamorous, but it is useful.

I have survived grief before. I know what matters. I know that fear passes. I know that life is fragile and also resilient.

And perhaps most unexpectedly, my house is very clean. Apparently impending surgery is also a productivity hack.

Gratitude does not cancel fear.

It just softens the edges.

I am still scared.

But I am also grateful.

Hard things and grateful things can live in the same room.

And if you are in your own version of the room, I hope you feel a little less alone.

Thank you for being part of this space and walking this journey with me.