There’s a moment when your mind gets ahead of your reality.  When the what-ifs start to take over, and suddenly everything feels bigger, scarier, heavier than it actually is. Your mind starts filling in the blanks – and more often than not, it gets the story wrong.

That’s where the monsters live.  And the moral of this story is simple – don’t let them out to play.

I’ve learned that when I breathe life into those monsters, it’s easy to let fear take over. I know that. I’ve lived that.

Taking my own advice though? That’s the hard part. But with each monster I slay, I get a little better at it.

My weeks are still filled with doctor appointments – this week was a double dose. Moving forward it’ll be one a week until the next surgery, which somehow feels both manageable and still a lot.

I’ve also officially ditched the big boy pain meds and graduated to nerve pain medication, Tylenol, and Ibuprofen on a very strict around-the-clock rotation. Learned that one the hard way. Because I’m stubborn… and also very much over taking pills. When I decide to skip a dose and fast forward to the “I’m totally fine now” phase, my body very aggressively rejects that plan and reminds me I need to be a better patient.

Thankfully, my husband has a full system of alarms set to gently remind me it’s pill time. I’m honestly a little surprised he hasn’t shown up with one of those cute pill organizers…yet.

About a month ago, my biggest monster was the drains.

I absolutely let my imagination run wild there – feeding every worry I had into two small plastic tubes. And now that I’m on the other side of it, I can say this with full confidence – I survived them.

They weren’t as painful as I had built them up to be, but they were definitely annoying. Sleeping became a strategic operation. Too close to my cocoon of pillows and I’d wake up with a stabbing, burning pain. I avoided my own bed entirely because I was convinced I’d accidentally yank one getting up.

That wasn’t just paranoia – I actually did tug one once and saw stars. Thankfully the stitches held, but naturally that unlocked a whole new fear.

And then there was my rabbit. Sweet, innocent… slightly unhinged. She has a tendency to bite first and ask questions later, so yes – her chomping through a tube felt like a very real possibility. So the quicker I could get them out – the better before option A, B or C got me.

But during my check-up this past Friday, just like that – they were gone. One deep inhale, and on the exhale… out they came.

I also had my first fill as part of reconstruction, which again, my imagination had dramatically overestimated.

Two monsters down.

Today marks three weeks post-surgery.

It’s flown by in a blink, and at the same time, certain hours still feel frozen in place. It’s strange to be on the other side of such a massive decision, while still very much in the middle of the process. But mostly, I feel proud.

During my visit with my breast surgeon, she reassured me that everything I’m experiencing is completely normal after a surgery like this. Actually, she said I’m doing better than most at this stage. Told you – A+ healing powers.

And yes, hearing that absolutely stroked my competitive side, even though I am fully aware healing is not a contest. But in my own head – it’s a win.

And then came the piece that mattered most – my pathology report.

No cancer. No pre-cancer. Also a win.

There were some cellular changes typical in extremely dense breast tissue that can lead to issues down the road… but they’re gone. That worry is gone.

Exhale.

I’m truly living in the 2% now.

Could something still happen? Of course. Life doesn’t come with guarantees. But this particular monster I was always trying not to wake up…it’s gone.  Not saying it’s all sunshine…but it’s definitely a much better forecast.

And walking through Hopkins, past the infusion labs and oncology floors, I felt it.

Relief. Gratitude. Perspective.

The people fighting those battles are the real warriors. I thought about them as I walked those halls, and I silently rooted for every single one of them.

But for me, in that moment, I felt like I had dodged something big. And I don’t take that lightly.

Now… my nerves, on the other hand, are still very confused.

When I overdo it, my body reminds me quickly. I either get these sharp “zingers” – like a quick jolt from a bug zapper or an all-over pins and needles sensation that makes my body feel hypersensitive. Not just on my chest, but across my upper back too. I call that area my angel wings.

Apparently, it’s all normal. The nerves wrap from front to back, and since they were disrupted, they’re just… figuring things out.

Same, honestly.

But progress these days looks different.

I’m back in my bed – officially graduated from the recliner.

I’m back to work. Yes, I know – recovery is technically a 4-6 week process, but…2.5 weeks felt like plenty. Am I overdoing it? Absolutely.  My nighttime nerves would like a word.

I’ve traded in the daily pajama rotation for real clothes, well just once, when I was bold and went with jeans to enjoy Sunday brunch with my family.

And for a moment, getting dressed felt like the old version of me again. Deciding what to wear, brushing my hair, stepping back into something that resembled normal.

But the quick glances in the mirror told a different story.

And that’s been an uncomfortable reality to sit in.

I’m not even halfway down this path yet, and this version of me – Shannon 2.0 – doesn’t quite know where she fits. I’m not up for visits. Definitely not Zoom calls. And I’m starting to understand, in a way I didn’t fully expect, that my breasts were part of how I defined myself. They were part of my whole.

And now I’m here, in this in-between.

And if I’m being honest… this might be the next monster.

Not the loud, obvious kind. But the quiet one. The one that shows up in reflections and expectations and timelines I can’t control.

I know where I’m going. I trust the end result. I trust my care team. That’s what keeps me putting one foot in front of the other, smiling, and telling everyone who asks that I’m hanging in there and healing one day at a time – “it’s a marathon, not a sprint” has become my go-to response.

But like most things in life, time is the part you can’t rush.

So for now, I sit in it.

Even when it’s uncomfortable.

Though I also completely overdid it and cutting a head of cabbage for dinner prep drained me of every ounce of energy. That night it was full bug zapper mode and pins and needles everywhere, wondering how something so simple could take me down.

That was my reminder – I’m still in the acute recovery phase.

And as much as I want to be back to normal, I’m not there yet.

As a doer, that’s… really hard.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, real life keeps showing up in small, unexpected ways.

My husband also admitted he thought I was joking about Jello. I’m afraid to look at the actual health benefits – so let’s just go ahead and call eating what feels like a box a day… medicinal. Proud and slightly embarrassed are having a moment with that one.

I’m still getting the most beautiful cards – filled with messages about being strong, about being brave. Which is an odd label for me to sit with. I don’t know that I see myself as brave. It feels less like bravery and more like… this is where life landed, and I’m doing what I need to do because cancer terrifies me.

But maybe being this proactive counts as some version of brave.

I’m still working that one out. What I do know is that the outpouring of love has been incredibly humbling.

I also now spend a surprising amount of time daydreaming about a new summer dress wardrobe. For now though, button-down shirts are apparently all the rage in my world.

And because I’ve spent so much time in bed, I’ve started thinking about how to pay it forward. That recliner that felt like a lifesaver in the early days – I’d love to find it a new home. Same with all the things that got me through this phase. If they can make someone else’s recovery even a little easier, that feels like a win.

I’m also fairly certain I’ve broken Netflix. It no longer suggests anything new, which feels like both an accomplishment and a problem.

But what I’ve spent the most time looking at is right in front of me.

From my little healing corner in our bedroom, I can see everything that matters most. Artwork from my boys when they were little, framed and full of memories that pull me right into that sweet season of life. Our wedding vows hanging above our bed, reminding me that the words we said back then still hold true today. And photos from our travels – each one quietly nudging me toward what’s next.

It’s given me a little bit of wanderlust mixed with nostalgia, gratitude…and a lot to look forward to.

Because this whole experience keeps bringing me back to the same place – The fear is loud, but it’s not always right. The unknown feels big, but it doesn’t get to win.

And maybe healing isn’t just about the physical recovery. This journey is as much emotional as it is physical – if not more so.

Maybe it’s about learning, over and over again, that I’m capable of facing the things I once thought I couldn’t.

Even when I’m scared. Especially when I’m scared. Because the truth is, the monsters were never the point.

Learning that I can face them…often with the help of my tribe…that’s where the real strength is.

And little by little, I am – living life big.