Author: tammyg
Crossing My Fingers, Toes & Everything Else: Life After Cancer

Crossing My Fingers, Toes & Everything Else: Life After Cancer

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September feels a little different this year, and not in a dramatic, cue-the-scary-music kind of way…

More in a, “Well, here we are again” kind of way.

This is the month I get to meet my new oncologist.

Weirdly enough, I am actually excited about it!

Yes, excited! Like, “Oooohhhh, how many more sleeps until I meet them?”

Better than Santa, I am sure!

Cancer really does give you a very strange definition of things to look forward to, I must say.

Some people get excited about vacations, concerts or new shoes.

Me?

Apparently I get excited about oncology appointments now…

Look at me living the dream!

But honestly, this appointment feels important. As a breast cancer survivor moving farther into life after cancer treatment, I am looking forward to meeting someone new who is going to become part of this next chapter of my cancer survivorship journey.

I want to talk.

I NEED to talk.

I want to ask questions.

I NEED to ask questions.

I want to hear where things stand…

I NEED to hear where things stand.

I want to know what the next few years look like as I continue inching my way farther away from active treatment and farther into survivorship.

I think you get it now…

I NEED this!

In February 2027, I will begin year four since my last hospital cancer treatment.

I am still taking Tamoxifen and will be for another six years, so I am not exactly skipping merrily out of the woods just yet.

But still…

Year FOUR since hospital treatment is around the corner!

That catches me sometimes.

There are moments when cancer feels like yesterday, and other times it feels like something that happened to a completely different version of me.

I think that is one of the strange things about life after cancer.

You move forward, but cancer becomes part of your history. It does not necessarily disappear. It just takes up a different amount of space depending on the day.

Then I look around at everything life has thrown into the mix lately and think, “Well, apparently we are still keeping things interesting.”

Because cancer has not exactly had the stage to itself lately.

Life in general has been busy tossing stones into the pond to see if I can catch them all and still stay afloat and swim.

Moving across the country.

Family health issues.

Supporting people I love.

Worrying about friends.

Trying to be there when people need me, wherever they may be.

Trying to help without taking on every ounce of someone else’s fear.

Trying to keep working.

Trying to keep writing.

Trying to keep moving.

Trying to remember that somewhere in the middle of looking after everybody else…

I am still in here too.

It is funny how that happens.

When someone you love is struggling with their health, your own stuff can get pushed way down the list.

You focus on appointments, phone calls, updates, hospital visits, medications, logistics and a thousand other things.

You become support staff, researcher, cheerleader, organizer, taxi driver and emotional shock absorber.

And sometimes, by the end of the day, there is not much left in the tank.

That is where the mind can get a little noisy.

Not necessarily scared.

Just busy.

Very, very busy.

Mine likes to run several departments at once.

Family Health Department.

Friend Support Services.

Work.

Life.

Future Planning.

And, of course, Random Thought That Absolutely Did Not Need To Arrive At 4:00 A.M.

And let’s not forget Random Thought That Absolutely May Save the World That Arrives at 3:00 A.M. and that I can never remember by morning…

And tucked somewhere in the back office is one little file labelled:

“Am I still cancer free?”

That question never completely disappears.

It is not something I sit around worrying about every day.

Honestly, at this point I refuse to give cancer that much real estate.

But it lives somewhere quietly in the background of cancer survivorship.

Especially when an oncology appointment starts getting closer.

Especially when another year passes.

Especially when I start thinking about how far I have come and how badly I want to keep going.

So yes, I am crossing my fingers.

And my toes.

And probably anything else that can reasonably be crossed without requiring medical attention.

I want to hear that I am doing well.

I want to hear that everything looks exactly the way it should.

I want to keep moving forward.

I want year four to turn into year five.

Then six.

Then ten.

Then twenty.

Greedy?

Absolutely.

I have earned greedy!

One thing I have noticed about life after breast cancer is how important it is to calm the mind when everything around you gets crowded.

Not because I am falling apart…

Because I do not want to.

And that is a big difference.

I have learned that calm is something I have to work at.

Even yesterday, I felt anxiety and stress creeping up on me and had to take off walking with my dog while listening to calming music.

Stress and anxiety do not always show up politely and ring the doorbell.

Mine can arrive with shortness of breath, a stomach that feels like it may rebel at any moment and enough fidgety energy that I can barely handle being near myself.

Delightful.

So when life gets loud, I have to go looking for calm.

I find it in music and books.

In writing and podcasts.

In dancing and walking.

In laughing at something completely ridiculous.

Thank you, Instagram!

Sometimes calm is deep breathing.

Sometimes calm is putting down the phone and deciding that the world can survive without my supervision for half an hour.

And sometimes calm is simply reminding myself:

I do not have to solve everything today.

So this month, I am trying something slightly different.

I am letting myself feel excited about meeting my new oncologist.

I am letting myself feel hopeful, even on the darker days.

I am letting myself be curious instead of trying to predict every possible conversation.

I am paying attention to my health.

And I am continuing to live my life while I wait because that part matters.

Cancer survivorship cannot only be about watching for cancer.

There has to be living in there too.

I do not want to spend these years constantly looking over my shoulder waiting for the next shoe to drop.

I want to look forward.

There are still things I want to do.

Things I want to write.

Places I want to go.

People I want to help.

Music I still want to dance to.

Probably loudly, badly and without caring.

Cancer taught me that time matters.

But these years after cancer treatment have taught me something else too:

How do I want to spend my life?

In fear?

Or in an abundance of living?

I choose living.

So September, here we go.

A new oncologist.

Another step forward in my breast cancer survivorship journey.

Another year getting farther away from treatment.

And one very hopeful woman quietly crossing every finger and toe she has that the words I hear are exactly the ones I want:

Everything looks good, Tammy. Keep on keeping on.

That is the plan.

And I fully intend to.

 

 

What Does Life After Cancer Look Like for You?

If you are a cancer survivor or are navigating life after cancer treatment, I would love to hear your story.

What has cancer survivorship looked like for you?

Do oncology appointments still bring up thoughts you thought you had tucked away? Do you ever find yourself quietly wondering, “Am I still cancer free?” What helps you calm your mind when life, health and everything else start piling up?

And most importantly…

What are you doing now that makes you feel truly alive?

Share your after-cancer journey in the comments.

The good. The hard. The funny. The messy. The hopeful.

All of it belongs here.

Because the more we talk honestly about life after cancer, the more we can remind one another that survivorship is not simply about getting through treatment.

It is about figuring out how we want to live everything that comes after it.

Much love,

Tammy
I Found a Doctor in British Columbia, and It Took My Determined Pants!

I Found a Doctor in British Columbia, and It Took My Determined Pants!

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When you move to British Columbia, or probably anywhere, there is a process you are supposed to follow to find a medical doctor.

You register for the Medical Services Plan, better known as MSP. You add your name to healthcare registries, care sites, and waitlists. You complete online intake forms and wait for someone to tell you that a doctor has become available.

So that is exactly what I did.

I registered with MSP. I joined the waitlists. I filled out forms and contacted clinics. A few offices eventually responded, only to tell me that I had been declined as a patient.

How do you get declined as a patient?

There was no explanation, no phone number, and no human being available to ask what I was supposed to do next.

Just one cheerful little word:

DECLINED.

I had already heard the horror stories about people waiting years to find a family doctor in British Columbia. Some people told me they had waited more than eight years.

Eight years. Yes, you read that correctly.

When you have been through cancer, that is not merely inconvenient. That is a horror story.

I did not have an oncology team in British Columbia to lean on. My medications were running out, and I require ongoing monitoring, blood work, follow-up appointments, and continued treatment for at least the next seven years!

But I could not simply contact a cancer hospital and ask for an oncology team.

I needed a family doctor to refer me.

Doctors, nurses, specialists, and healthcare workers are doing incredibly important work under enormous pressure.

The silly part of all of this is that there are not enough doctors to ensure people can access the care they need. The silly part is that someone who has already been through cancer can move between two Canadian provinces, yet the systems cannot easily communicate and continue that person’s care.

I knew what care I needed and where I needed to go. I simply could not get through the front door without someone who would take me on as a new patient to write the referral.

After a few weeks of feeling worried, frustrated, and honestly quite upset, I finally drew a line in the sand.

On Monday morning, I put on my determined pants.

I decided I was going to find a doctor that day, no matter what it took.

I worked my way through lists, websites, directories, and clinic pages across the Greater Vancouver area. By then, I no longer cared where the doctor was located.

I have a car.

I can get there.

I just need a doctor!

Many websites claimed clinics were accepting new patients. When I contacted them, they were not. Apparently, “accepting new patients” can sometimes mean “we once considered accepting new patients during a brief window in 2022.”

Still, I kept going.

After about five hours, I was exhausted and close to giving up. Then I found a doctor in Vancouver who appeared to be taking new patients.

I remained skeptical. By this point, I trusted the words “accepting new patients” about as much as I trust jeans labelled “one size fits all.”

But this time, it was true.

Not only did I get a doctor for myself, but Nino was accepted too.

And we did not find just any doctor.

From my first appointment, this young doctor understood exactly what I needed. I explained my cancer history, my treatment, my medication concerns, and the fact that I did not yet have an oncology team in British Columbia.

His immediate response was:

“We need to get you into a cancer hospital!”

YES!

I was finally heard.

It was patient-doctor love at first sight. Not that kind of love. I love him for being a great doctor. You know what I mean. Jeesh.

He was knowledgeable, compassionate, and thorough. He ordered blood work immediately and told me he would send the referral.

I completed my blood work on Wednesday. Today, I received notice that he has already arranged a virtual appointment to review the results with me.

And yesterday, after seeing this doctor only once, I received a letter from BC Cancer confirming that I have an appointment booked in six weeks.

I can finally breathe again.

Things are moving.

I have a doctor. My blood work is underway. My follow-up is booked. My BC Cancer appointment is scheduled. The right team is beginning to line up around me so I can move through the next few years of checkups, monitoring, and treatment with confidence.

For weeks, I felt as though I was standing alone in the middle of a healthcare maze, rattling every locked door.

Now, one has finally opened.

Finding a doctor should not have required weeks of worry, multiple rejections, five hours of relentless searching, and a particularly powerful pair of determined pants!

But I found one.

Even better, I found the right one.

It feels like Christmas came early, and today I am counting my blessings.

I am grateful for the doctor who listened, the referral to BC Cancer, and the feeling that I am supported again.

Sometimes the blessing is not simply finding what you were searching for.

Sometimes it is finding exactly who you needed.

Have you struggled to find a family doctor, transfer medical care between provinces, or navigating the healthcare system after cancer? Please share your experience in the comments. Your story may help someone else feel less alone, and perhaps together we can keep this important conversation moving forward.
Summer, Breast Reconstruction Implants, and the Big Question: Is It Better to Just Go Flat?

Summer, Breast Reconstruction Implants, and the Big Question: Is It Better to Just Go Flat?

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Summer has a way of making everything feel more exposed.

The sun comes out, the layers come off, and suddenly your body is not quietly tucked away under sweaters, scarves, and the emotional support jacket you bought in three colours just to be stylish. Nope… It is right there. In tank tops. Bathing suits. Sundresses. Changing rooms with lighting that should frankly be investigated by the authorities.  Seriously, what is up with those lights?!

And if you have had breast cancer, a mastectomy, and reconstruction implants, summer can bring up a whole extra suitcase of feelings.  Trust me on this…It gets me every year…

Not just, “Do I like this bathing suit?”

More like:

Does this sit properly?
Does this feel weird?

Why is one side doing interpretive dance while the other side is minding its business?

Will one of these suckers slip out of my top and I won’t notice because frankly, I have very little feeling in them?!

Then comes:
Am I comfortable?
Am I grateful?
Am I annoyed?
Am I allowed to be both?

Yes. I am here to tell you, you are allowed to be both.

Because breast reconstruction is complicated. Not just medically complicated, although there is plenty of that. It is emotionally complicated. Physically complicated. Identity complicated. Clothing-rack-in-a-Winners-change-room complicated.

And one question that does not get talked about honestly enough is this:

Is it better to just go flat?

Let’s start with the most important answer.

There is no right answer.

There is no gold star for choosing reconstruction. There is no bravery badge for going flat. There is no “better woman,” “stronger survivor,” or “more feminine” option. There is only the choice that works best for your body, your healing, your lifestyle, your values, and your peace.

And peace matters. More than symmetry. More than other people’s comfort. More than what someone assumes you will want because of how women’s bodies are “supposed” to look.

The Summer Reality of Reconstruction Implants

Reconstruction implants can be a gift for some people. Truly.

For some women, like myself, when I first got them, my implants after my mastectomy helped to restore a sense of shape, balance, and familiarity. They made my clothing feel easier. They allowed me to look in the mirror and feel more connected to my body the way I knew before cancer barged in like an uninvited raccoon in a party hat.

But reconstruction is not the same as cosmetic breast augmentation. That needs to be said louder. Seriously, I am YELLING this while typing it!  Please DO NOT tell a cancer survivor they should be lucky for the “boob job!” I will slap you if I hear you say this…it will just be a reflex I won’t apologize for.

I will apologize now for getting distracted and on a rant though…Okay, back to it…

After a mastectomy, the breast tissue is removed. Nerves may be affected. Skin can feel tight. Sensation may be reduced or gone. Mine personally is nearly gone in the sensation department. Radiation, scar tissue, healing issues, and other treatments can all affect the outcome. So while reconstruction may create the appearance of breasts, it does not always restore the feeling of breasts.

And summer can make that more obvious in so many ways.

Heat can make implants feel uncomfortable. Bras can become little medieval devices. Swelling, tightness, sweating, scar sensitivity, and body awareness can all become more noticeable. A bathing suit may fit differently than expected. You may look “fine” to everyone else while feeling like your chest is a construction zone with seasonal humidity.

That is the strange thing about reconstruction. People may assume that because you look put back together, you feel put back together.

Not always.

Most times, in my opinion, you feel grateful for the option and still irritated by the reality.

Pros of Breast Reconstruction

Breast reconstruction can offer real benefits. For some patients, it is the right choice and a meaningful part of healing.

Some possible pros include:

A restored breast shape under clothing.
This can help some people feel more physically balanced and more comfortable in everyday clothes, bras, swimsuits, and formal wear.

A sense of familiarity.
After cancer treatment changes so much, reconstruction can help some patients feel like they have reclaimed a part of themselves.

More clothing options without prosthetics.
Some people prefer implants or flap reconstruction because they do not want to wear external breast forms.

Emotional comfort.
For some, reconstruction supports confidence, intimacy, body image, and emotional recovery.

Immediate or delayed options.
Some patients can choose reconstruction at the time of mastectomy, while others may choose to wait. That flexibility matters.

But, and here comes the big glittery BUT, reconstruction is still surgery. Sometimes multiple surgeries. It is not a quick little “add to cart” situation.

Cons of Breast Reconstruction

The part that needs more honesty is that reconstruction can come with real challenges.

Possible cons include:

More surgeries.
Implant-based reconstruction often involves stages. Tissue expanders, implant exchange, revisions, fat grafting, nipple reconstruction, or future replacement may all become part of the journey. I was personally lucky to get away with only two surgeries while doing this and then a massive chest tattoo. (more on that later)

Implants are not lifetime devices.
Many people are not told clearly enough that breast implants may need to be replaced or removed later.

Complications can happen.
These may include infection, implant rupture, capsular contracture, pain, tightness, asymmetry, or healing issues.  I often get pain and tightness from my implants.  It sucks and Tylenol and Advil seem to be all that helps when it gets bad.

Radiation can complicate results.
Radiation may affect skin, tissue, implant comfort, and long-term outcomes.  After my radiation my right implant has been so tight due to what the radiation did to my skin.

Loss of sensation.
A reconstructed breast may look like a breast but not feel like one. That can be emotionally jarring.  I was not prepared for this. I thought at some point I would regain sensation in my breasts. It has been 3 years and still nothing. So weird to itch your chest and my brain cannot compute that I do not feel it. Honestly, this part sucks more than you know!

Ongoing body maintenance.
Follow-up appointments, monitoring, imaging recommendations, and possible future surgeries can feel like cancer left behind a very annoying admin assistant.

And for some people, the final result simply does not feel worth it. Not because reconstruction is bad, but because their body, lifestyle, healing, or priorities changed.

What Does “Going Flat” Mean?

Going flat after mastectomy means choosing not to recreate a breast mound. Some people choose no reconstruction from the beginning. Others have implants removed later and choose a flat closure.

But here is the important part: going flat should still be treated as a valid surgical outcome.  I have met so many beautiful and inspiring women who have gone flat and are so alive and happy in their bodies.

To be clear, aesthetic flat closure is not “just sew it up and off you go.” It usually involves removing extra skin and tissue and creating a smooth, intentional chest contour. In other words, flat is not failure. Flat is not unfinished. Flat is not the sad beige option in the breast cancer catalogue.

Flat can be powerful. Clean. Comfortable. Freeing. Beautiful.

And for some people, it feels more honest.

Pros of Going Flat

Going flat can be the right choice for many reasons.

Some possible pros include:

No implants.
No implant maintenance, no implant rupture concerns, no future implant replacement.

Fewer surgeries for some patients.
Depending on the situation, going flat may mean avoiding additional reconstruction procedures.

More physical comfort.
Some people feel lighter, freer, and more comfortable without implants or prosthetics.

Easier movement.
For dancers, athletes, fitness lovers, or anyone who wants to move without chest tightness or implant awareness, flat can feel liberating.

A sense of body honesty.
Some people do not want their body rebuilt into something that feels unfamiliar. They want healing without reconstruction, and that is valid.

No pressure to perform femininity for others.
This one matters. A woman’s worth is not stored in breast tissue. Please alert the committee!  1000% honesty right here!

Cons of Going Flat

Going flat can also come with challenges, and those deserve honesty too.

Possible cons include:

Body image adjustment.
Seeing a flat chest after having breasts can be emotionally difficult, even if the choice is wanted.

Clothing fit changes.
Some clothes may fit differently. Some styles may feel easier, others harder.

Social reactions.
People can be awkward. Sometimes very awkward. Going flat may invite questions or assumptions, and that can be exhausting.

Possible need for revision surgery.
If the flat closure is not done well, there may be extra skin, unevenness, or discomfort that requires correction.

Grief.
Even when going flat is empowering, there can still be grief. You can choose something freely and still mourn what cancer took.

That is not weakness. That is being human.

So, Is It Better to Just Go Flat?

For some people, yes.

For others, absolutely not.

That is the point.

The better question is not, “Should everyone reconstruct?” or “Should everyone go flat?”

The better question is:

What option gives this patient the best chance at healing, comfort, confidence, and peace of mind in my own body?

And that answer will be different for everyone.

Some people love their reconstruction. Some people tolerate it. I think the tolerating category is what I fall under. Some people regret it. Some people go flat and feel free. Some people go flat and struggle. Some people change their minds later. All of that is real.

The problem is not that there are different choices.

The problem is that patients are not always given the full picture before making them.

Patients Deserve Better Advocacy

This is where I get a little spicy and may ruffle some peoples feathers…sorry but I am NOT sorry!

Patients should not have to stumble into online forums at midnight, Googling “why do my implants feel weird in summer?”.  I admit, this was me…

We need better conversations BEFORE surgery.

Patients deserve to understand:

What reconstruction can and cannot do.
How implants may feel long term.
What sensation may be lost.
What complications are possible.
How radiation may affect results.
That implants may need future surgery.
What going flat actually means.
What aesthetic flat closure should look like.
That delayed decisions are sometimes possible.
That changing your mind does not make you difficult.

We need surgeons, oncologists, nurses, and care teams to explain all options clearly. Not with bias. Not with assumptions. Not with “most women choose this.” Not with the subtle pressure to look “normal.”

Normal left the building the day cancer showed up with a clipboard!  This is not your everyday conversation over a cup of coffee with your girlfriend.

What patients need is truth. Options. Photos. Realistic expectations. Time to think. And respect.

A patient should be able to say, “I want reconstruction,” and be fully supported.

A patient should be able to say, “I want to go flat,” and be fully supported.

A patient should be able to say, “I do not know yet,” and not be rushed into a decision because the surgical assembly line is moving. We are NOT cattle here!

The Summer Body After Breast Cancer

To finish up my thoughts here, summer can stir up all of this because our bodies are more visible, but also because we feel them more. Heat, clothing, movement, sweat, swimsuits, scars, implants, prosthetics, compression devices, or flat closure, it all becomes part of the season.

And maybe the goal is not to love every single thing about our bodies every day.

Maybe the goal is to stop apologizing for them.

My body carried me through something enormous. It may not feel the way it used to. It may not look the way it used to. It may come with scars, implants, flatness, asymmetry, numbness, tenderness, or a complicated relationship with tank tops.

But it is still mine. And it is still YOURS!

And we deserve to make decisions about it with full information, not fear, pressure, or someone else’s idea of what healing should look like.

So, is it better to just go flat?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

The better answer is this:

It is better to be fully informed.
It is better to be respected.
It is better to have real choices.
It is better to be told the truth before your body becomes the battlefield for decisions you did not fully understand.

There is no one right answer.

There is only the answer that lets you live, move, sweat, dance, swim, dress, heal, and exist in your body with the most peace possible.

And honestly?

After breast cancer, peace is not a small thing…

It is the whole damn summer and every season!

Enjoy as much of it as you can!

Much love,

Tammy
Life Is Too Short, But Apparently Doctor Waitlists Are Not

Life Is Too Short, But Apparently Doctor Waitlists Are Not

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There is nothing quite like a major health scare to make you look around at your life and say, “Well, shit. Time to renovate my life!”

Not a cute little HGTV refresh with throw pillows and a new lamp either. I’m talking full emotional demolition. Walls down. Floors ripped up. Dust everywhere. The kind where you stand in the middle of your own life wearing safety goggles thinking, “How did I get here, and why is there so much beige? Yuck!”… And I think I may have been watching too many redecorating shows lately!

A big health scare wakes you up in a way nothing else can. It grabs you by the shoulders and reminds you that life is not some endless buffet where you can casually circle back later for joy, peace, adventure, or rest. Life is short. Annoyingly short. Rude, actually…if I am being honest!

And suddenly, things that used to feel important start looking ridiculous.

The people-pleasing.
The waiting.
The shrinking or apologizing.
The “I’ll do it when things calm down.”
The pretending I am fine when my nervous system is basically a raccoon trapped in a mailbox.

Trust me, a health scare makes you want to live differently. Not someday. Not when the stars align, or Mercury behaves itself. Now.

So here I am…I wanted to move. Change. Breathe. Choose myself. Find sunshine. Take a class. Be near my Heart children. Learn something new. Wear the thing. Say no without feeling guilty. Say yes to the parts of life that make me feel awake again.

For me, that meant looking at my life with sharper eyes and a softer heart. It meant asking, “What actually matters now?” Not in a dramatic movie-trailer voice, although honestly, sometimes it felt that way. It meant admitting that after everything my body had carried me through, I owed it more than survival mode.

So, I made changes.

And like most big changes, they came with fear, tears, excitement, chaos, and a few moments where I questioned whether I had accidentally joined a cult run by packing boxes.

Moving somewhere new can be incredible. It can feel like a fresh page. New streets. New routines. New coffee shops. New skies. New possibilities.

But here is the caveat nobody puts on the inspirational poster: starting over is not always light and breezy when you have a medical history that likes to sit in the corner wearing tap shoes just waiting for its turn to jump on stage.

Because when you have lived through a serious diagnosis like breast cancer, access to healthcare is not just a practical detail. It is emotional security. It is the thing that lets you exhale.

And when you move somewhere new and suddenly cannot find a doctor, that fear gets loud real fast!

Not cute loud. Not “my dog is so cute barking at a leaf” loud. I am talking about 3 a.m. brain loud. And often! The thoughts are endless…

What if something comes back?

What if I miss a symptom?

Who do I call?

Who is watching my medical dashboard while I’m trying to drive this life?

Thank God I moved in next to a hospital!

But would they see me or know what to do if I had an emergency?

Is this an emergency right now that I don’t have a Doctor?

That fear is real.

It is not dramatic.

It is not overreacting.

It is what happens when my body has already surprised me once, and now I am trying to trust it again while also navigating a healthcare system that feels like trying to get concert tickets to my favorite artist while using dial-up internet.

All I do know is that in this moment:

I can be grateful to be alive and still be scared.
I can be brave and still need support.
I can want a new life and still feel deeply unsettled by the gaps in care.

That is the weird, messy, human truth of it.

A health scare can make you want to chase life with both hands. But healing also means needing safety. It means wanting freedom, but also follow-up appointments. It means dreaming about new beginnings while quietly wondering who will help you if your body sends up a flare.

And maybe that is the real lesson.

Life is too short to stay stuck. But it is also too precious to pretend we do not care about the  systems that helps us!

So yes, I still want change. I want joy. I want movement. I want laughter that sneaks up and makes me forget what I was worried about for a second. I want to keep building a life that feels like mine full of adventure.

But I also want a doctor. Let’s not get too carried away here! I NEED a freakin’ Doctor!

Because this next chapter is not about pretending fear does not exist. It is about letting fear ride in the back seat while my hopes and dreams take the wheel, my sassy self controls the playlist, and I keep moving forward anyway.

One imperfect, brave, slightly ridiculous step at a time.
I Survived Cancer… So Why Am I Afraid to Go on Vacation?

I Survived Cancer… So Why Am I Afraid to Go on Vacation?

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Let’s plan a vacation!

The sun, the sea, the cuisine, the rest & relaxation!

That is what most people hear when someone says vacation.  That is what I used to hear too!

Until breast cancer…

Let’s plan a vacation!

Okay but where is the nearest hospital? What SPF of sunscreen do I need to pack? Will food poisoning make me think I have cancer again? Is there such a thing as rest and relaxation? I relax better in my home, in my province, where I know the medical doctors are! Oh and how do I get travel insurance?

Yup…racing thoughts now take over and I am more anxious than ever. You hear about people who go on vacation and are perfectly healthy and then the worst thing possible happens.  Well, when you have health issues to begin with (even when considered in remission) it becomes a very scary experience.

I talk about it in my book about going to Italy and falling sick with a cold that I thought may kill me.  I was still in immunotherapy treatment then and honestly I thought at some point those thoughts would disappear over time.

They haven’t.

The thoughts are a tad quieter now but anything can set them off very quickly.

 

Let’s Plan a Vacation… After Cancer

The sun. The sea. The food. The rest.

That’s what I used to hear when someone said “vacation.” It was so exciting! I could hardly wait for the plane to take off!

That’s not what I hear anymore. Oh no.  It has changed dramatically now…

The New Version of “Let’s Go Away”

Let’s plan a vacation.

Sure…okay…yeah…but where is the nearest hospital? Do I have enough sunscreen?
What if I get sick… and it’s not just being sick? What if it is something? What if I don’t feel well and my brain goes right back there?

Then the brain steps in and we are in trouble even more! “Is this actually relaxing?
Or is this just me… in a different place… managing the same thoughts? Oh, and travel insurance.
We need to talk about travel insurance. How much is enough?”

Before vs. After

Before cancer, a trip was simple.

Pick a place. Book a flight. Buy a new bikini. Pack a bag. I am on my way!

Now?

It’s a strategy. It’s research. It’s preparation layered with a quiet kind of fear that doesn’t always announce itself… but is always nearby. Sometimes it waits right until the night before we go and I have to decide if I want to listen to the thoughts that are trying to murder me in my sleep before we go…or just let it go and trust the Universe that I will somehow survive this beautiful vacation we have planned.

How crazy is that?!  Cancer even took the joy out of a trip whether it is spontaneous or even planned now. Ugh…..

Does It Ever Go Away?

I thought that feeling of fear would go away once I was done my treatment and just on tamoxifen. I was hopeful that time would soften it. That distance from treatment would quiet it.

It really hasn’t.

It’s quieter, yes. But it’s still there and honestly, it doesn’t take much to wake it up.

What Travel Looks Like Now

It looks quite different. It looks like excitement… with hesitation.
It looks like planning… with backup plans.
It looks like wanting to go… and questioning if I should. It looks like checking where the nearest hospital is before you check where the best restaurant is. I have gone so far as to Google the possible Doctors at the potential hospitals I may end up at if I get sick to see who they are…I know…just another way to use my love for Google to solve life’s problems!

It also looks like packing medication before outfits. It looks like being prepared in a way I never had to be before!

If This Is You…

If you’re reading this and thinking, this is exactly how I feel, you’re not alone.

Honestly, this part doesn’t get talked about enough. The part where I am “fine”… but not really carefree anymore.

Family and friends who have never gone through a diagnosis may be thinking “What is the big deal?! You are FINE now!”

Nope. We are not.  It takes something to make a trip enjoyable.

So, Let’s Make This Easier

You can still go…But you go differently.

You plan more. You ask more questions. You make sure you have what you need before you leave.

You get the insurance and a good amount of it and you READ the fine print on that insurance! You bring copies of important parts of your medical records and you know where to go if something happens.

Not because something will happen. That would be silly! Of course nothing is going to happen!
But because knowing you can handle it changes everything.

And the thoughts you have been having might come anyway. A headache might feel bigger than it is. A stomach ache might take you somewhere you don’t want to go. Your mind might try to convince you that you’re back there again…

You’re not.

But that doesn’t mean it won’t feel like you are.

Allow yourself to be KIND to yourself and all the thoughts that may come up!

The Shift

You don’t wait for the fear to go away, you just go with it. (That was a really great movie by the way with Jennifer Aniston and Adam Sandler…oops, off topic!)

You acknowledge it. You prepare for it. And then you go anyway!  Because you have already learned that life is short and whether you go ro stay home those thoughts are going to be there and you may as well live it up in Argentina on a beach somewhere than in a place that you feel safe.

To those of you reading this who are the friends, family or caregivers of one of us who have gone through this…consider going on a vacation our way of skydiving. We don’t need to jump from a plane to feel the fear associated with it.  We live with that fear all the time and a change of venue for us can feel like we just made the jump!

So… Should You Go?

Yes. But do it your way.

Maybe it’s shorter trips. Maybe it’s somewhere closer to home. Maybe it’s building in rest time and not trying to do everything.  Maybe it’s simply going somewhere and proving to yourself that you can! Because living in fear and not moving forward is not really living, in my opinion!

My Final Thought

You don’t have to feel completely ready. I know I don’t most times!

You don’t have to feel fearless.  I never do!

You just have to be willing. I always am, even if I need to be pushed out the door sometimes!

Because cancer changes a lot of things…But it doesn’t get to take this too if you are willing to jump. ✈️💛
Mistletoe & Vitamin C in Cancer Care: A Real Story of Integrative Healing

Mistletoe & Vitamin C in Cancer Care: A Real Story of Integrative Healing

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When I was diagnosed with cancer, my calendar filled up faster than my Amazon cart on a bad day.

Appointments. Treatments. Decisions. More appointments. Fears. Tears. Feeling out of control.

What doesn’t always get talked about is how to support ones body through all of it and not just survive it.

During my breast cancer journey, I chose to combine Western medical treatment with integrative, Eastern-influenced care.

Not instead of.
Alongside.

Because I wanted to treat the cancer but I also wanted to support me.

Supporting My Body During Chemo, Radiation & Surgery

Before I ever touched mistletoe or high-dose vitamin C, I was already working with a qualified Naturopathic Doctor (ND).

Together, we focused on supporting my body while I went through:

Chemotherapy
Radiation
Surgery

This included:

Carefully selected supplements
Nutritional support
Managing side effects
Helping my body stay as strong as possible

And let’s be clear, this was done safely and intentionally alongside my medical treatments.

No rogue decisions. No “I read this on the internet at 2am so let’s go.” No googling “what will make me better faster?”

Why I Didn’t Start Mistletoe & Vitamin C Right Away

Now here’s where real life kicks in. While you may not feel like you have choices, you do!

You can do mistletoe and vitamin C IV’s during treatment.

Many people do.

I chose not to.

Why?

 Because honestly, I already felt like a human dartboard.  Between chemo, bloodwork, and everything else, I had enough needles coming at me weekly. Adding more needles? Hard pass at that stage.

So I waited until I was nearing the end of my Western treatments when my body (and let’s be honest, my patience) had a little more room.

And that’s something I want you to hear clearly:

You don’t have to do everything at once to be doing something right. You just need to be doing what is right for YOU!

Now, you may be asking…What is Mistle Toe  and High Dose Vitamin C Therapy?

Mistletoe therapy uses extracts from the Viscum album plant and is widely used in integrative oncology, especially in Europe.

It’s typically given as small injections under the skin but in my case, I take it intravenously with high dose Vitamin C.

When I Used It…

I introduced mistletoe toward the end of treatment and into recovery when I had the capacity to add another layer of support.

After much reading about this combination and working with my ND, I learned that this treatment is great for immune system support,
increased energy,  and improved quality of life.

It’s not a cure. It’s support.

Think of it as backup dancers, not the headliner.

High-Dose Vitamin C (IV Therapy) is delivered through an IV allowing levels in your bloodstream that you simply can’t get from food or supplements. High-Dose Vitamin C helps again with immune support, reducing fatigue and support during recovery. All of the things I needed!

At this point in my journey, my focus shifted to:

Recovery
Rebuilding strength
Supporting long-term health

Western Medicine vs. Integrative Care (Let’s Talk About It)

This is where things can get… tense. And I mean like you may think you are doing everything wrong and your Doctor team now hate you…trust me, they do not!

Many Western-trained doctors may resist or question therapies like mistletoe or IV vitamin C.  And before we sharpen pitchforks, let’s pause.  The truth is, they’re not wrong.

They are trained in evidence-based systems that prioritize large clinical trials, standardized care, and safety.

That training is critical. It saves lives every day.

But it also means they may not be trained in integrative or naturopathic approaches.

So when they hesitate or act superior with their opinion, it’s not necessarily opposition, it’s the framework they were taught.

And Still…NEVER FORGET… It’s YOUR Body

Here’s where both truths get to coexist:

Your medical team brings essential expertise and you have the right to explore supportive options.  You are not at the mercy of what your medical Doctor says.

For me, it looked like this:

I followed my oncologist’s treatment plan. I worked with a qualified ND. I supported my body during treatment with supplements and
I added mistletoe and vitamin C when it felt right for me.

Not rushed. Not pressured. Not because someone on Instagram said “this changed everything.”

(If it sounds like a miracle in a caption… proceed with caution.)

What Integrative Cancer Care Really Means

Integrative care isn’t about replacing Western medicine.  It’s about expanding the support system around it.

For me, that included:

Medical treatment, Nutritional support, Movement and fitness, Mental and emotional health, and Targeted therapies like mistletoe and vitamin C

It’s never been about doing more.  It’s  been about doing what’s meaningful and manageable for me.  While some tried to tell me “how to do cancer treatment”, I thanked them for sharing and did what was right for me.

If You’re Considering This Path

If you’re exploring mistletoe therapy or high-dose vitamin C, here is what I can share with you:

👉 Work with a licensed Naturopathic Doctor (ND) trained in integrative oncology

👉 Ensure your care is coordinated with your medical team

👉 Understand your timing during treatment vs. after

👉 Avoid anyone promising cures (that’s your cue to politely exit stage left)

The bottom line is mistletoe therapy and high-dose vitamin C are part of the growing world of integrative cancer care and prevention.

They are not cures.
They are not replacements.

But they can be powerful supportive tools when used properly.

A Final Thought to Share

Cancer treatment can make you feel like everything is happening to you. Like you have zero choice in how things go.

Integrative care gave me a way to feel like I was participating again. Like I had a say in how my treatments were going to go.

And that shift? It matters more than people realize.

So if you’re navigating this path be sure to take your time, ask questions and build your team!  Also, remember, you do not have to do everything and you only have to do what is right for you!

💛 An INVITE for You!

If you’re looking for a real, honest perspective on navigating cancer with strength, movement, and mindset…

My book Dancing Through Diagnosis shares the full journey. Raw, resilient, and yes, with a few laughs along the way because not everything in life is 100% serious! Not even cancer!

You don’t have to walk this path alone.  There are many of us survivors out here doing what we can to support those newly diagnosed.

I am here for you.

Much love,

Tammy

 
Tamoxifen Brain Fog Is NOT the Same as “I’m Just Forgetful”

Tamoxifen Brain Fog Is NOT the Same as “I’m Just Forgetful”

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If you or someone you know is experiencing tamoxifen brain fog, let’s clear something up right away: it is not the same thing as casually misplacing your keys. (Which I also do often and cannot blame on the tamoxifen unfortunately…)

There is everyday forgetfulness… And then there is standing in your kitchen at 8 a.m., staring at your pill organizer, wondering if you just took your tamoxifen dose… or if you’re about to double it.

They are 100% NOT the same thing!

As a breast cancer survivor on long-term tamoxifen treatment, I can tell you that memory changes are real. They’re frustrating. They’re subtle. And sometimes they’re downright  dramatic!

People mean well when they say, “Oh, I’m forgetful too!” And I appreciate the attempt at connection. But tamoxifen-related memory loss hits differently.

Forgetting your grocery list is inconvenient… Forgetting whether you took a medication that reduces your risk of cancer recurrence? That’s a psychological thriller before breakfast! I mean…I love a good thriller but NOT this kind!

Let’s talk about what tamoxifen brain actually feels like, how I manage it, and what happened this morning when my system failed me.

What Is Tamoxifen Brain Fog?

Many people on tamoxifen for breast cancer report cognitive changes. These can include:

  • Brain fog
  • Short-term memory lapses
  • Difficulty concentrating
  • Word-finding issues
  • Mental fatigue

Hormone therapy affects estrogen levels, and estrogen plays a role in cognitive function. When that balance shifts, your brain sometimes feels like it’s buffering.

Not broken. Just… buffering.  Or maybe like old school dial-up internet if you need a sound to go with it!

And when you’re on this medication for 5 to 10 years, that buffering can become part of daily life.  It is the longest buffering ever!

“I’m Forgetful Too” Is Not the Same Thing

When I say I have tamoxifen brain fog, I’m not describing cute absent-mindedness.

I’m describing this:

A daily medication.
A structured routine.
2 pill organizers filled every 2 weeks with military precision.

I take my tamoxifen first thing every morning. Same spot in the kitchen. Same time. Same order. Routine is my safety net. If I remove decision-making, I remove doubt.

Except today.

I woke up. I opened Sunday’s compartment. I took the pill.

Or at least… I think I did.

I went up to the office, did some work and then came down to get my supplements about an hour later. My “normal” routine.

And there it was.

A small white tablet sitting in the organizer in the Sunday spot.

Tamoxifen.

Now my brain goes into investigative mode.

Did I take it already?
Is this an extra?
Did I put 2 pills in todays when it should have been 1?
Am I about to double-dose?

This is the moment people don’t see.

The freeze.

The replaying of memory like security footage.
The self-doubt creeping in. The making myself wrong for everything from that morning…and maybe even that week!

Because now it’s not about forgetfulness. It’s about tamoxifen dosage confusion and the fear of making a mistake with cancer medication.

That hits differently.

The Panic and the Shame

Here’s the part no one warns you about.

It’s not just the brain fog. It’s the self-criticism that follows.

How can you not remember something this important?

You can manage appointments. You can run programs. You can write a book. But you can’t remember if you swallowed one pill?!

It’s a fast slide into feeling incompetent.

Because tamoxifen side effects include cognitive changes. This isn’t laziness. It isn’t carelessness. It’s a known experience among many people on long-term hormone therapy.

But knowing that doesn’t always stop the emotional spiral.

How I Manage Tamoxifen Brain Fog

If you’re navigating memory issues on tamoxifen, here’s what I’ve learned works for me:

  1. Pill Organizers Are Non-Negotiable

I use a daily compartment system. No bottles. No guesswork. Everything pre-loaded for 2 weeks in advance. Day pills and night pills.  ***This NORMALLY works! And is the best solution I have found so far.

  1. Same Routine, Every Day

Same time. Same location. Same sequence. Routine reduces cognitive load.

  1. No “Quick Exceptions”

I don’t take it in another room. I don’t grab it “just this once” while distracted. Consistency protects me.

  1. Pause Before Panic

If I’m unsure, I breathe. I retrace steps. I check the previous day’s compartment. I look for patterns.

Sometimes I move forward knowing one imperfect moment in a decade of adherence does not undo everything. (Once I have either called my Oncologist or used ChatGPT to confirm I won’t die if I miss one day that is)

Living With Long-Term Tamoxifen Treatment

Here’s something that rarely gets said.

Ten years is a long time to be vigilant.

Ten years of daily medication.
Ten years of monitoring your body.
Ten years of remembering appointments, scans, bloodwork, refills.

That mental load adds up.

So if your brain feels tired, it might not be weakness. It might be exhaustion from sustained survival mode.

Tamoxifen brain fog isn’t just about memory. It’s about the emotional weight attached to it.

When you’re on breast cancer hormone therapy, every pill carries meaning.

It represents protection.
It represents risk reduction.
It represents the fear of recurrence.

So when doubt creeps in, it’s not casual.  It is like King Kong hanging on the side of the building about ready to grab you!

What Happened This Morning

After the internal drama and the suspicious Sunday compartment, I did what I’ve trained myself to do.

I stopped.

I examined yesterdays and today’s slot.
I replayed the routine calmly instead of catastrophically…. well maybe with a bit of anxiety if I am being honest….

Then I ChatGPT’d what happens if I miss one pill vs. potentially taking 2 in one day and then I moved forward.  Thank you ChatGPT!

No all-day shame spiral.
No self-punishment narrative.

Just: You are doing your best.

Because here’s the truth.

If you’re on tamoxifen and you occasionally forget whether you took it, you are not stupid. You are a human navigating a medication that affects your brain chemistry.

A Note for Loved Ones

If someone in your life says they’re struggling with tamoxifen memory issues, try this instead of comparison:

“That sounds stressful.”

Validation goes further than relatability.

Moving Forward With Compassion

Tamoxifen brain fog is real.
Memory changes during breast cancer treatment are real.
The emotional layer attached to medication adherence is real.

But so is resilience.

Some days I glide through my routine.
Some days I stand in fuzzy socks arguing silently with a pill organizer.

Both count.

Both are part of the long dance of survivorship.

If you’re navigating tamoxifen brain fog, you’re not alone. Build systems. Create routines. Ask for support. And when you stumble, keep moving forward.

Your brain is adapting.  You are surviving.

And even on the days your memory wobbles, you are still showing up for your health.

That counts more than perfection ever will.

Much love,

Tammy

 
When the Fear Comes Back Before the Cancer Does…

When the Fear Comes Back Before the Cancer Does…

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Living With the Worry of Recurrence

No one warns you about this chapter of the journey.

They prepare you for the diagnosis…kind of…by looking worried when they do your tests. You know something is up but what? You soon find out.
They brace you for treatment…kind of…by seeing an oncologist who throws words at you while you try to figure out what in life got you to this point.
They celebrate the bell, the scans, the “all clear.” And YOU celebrate them too because WOW, you are still alive after all of that!

What they don’t mention is the lingering fear that slips in after everyone else has gone home.

The worry of recurrence. The subtitles playing behind the life movie that nobody mentioned to turn on!

It doesn’t arrive with drama. It shows up quietly.
A weird ache. “Is it back?”
A random wave of exhaustion. “Is it back?”
A follow-up appointment sitting on your calendar like it pays rent. “Waiting is brutal…still!”

I remember thinking, Why am I still scared?
I did the chemo.
I showed up for the surgeries.
I survived the thing that was supposed to be the worst part.

Turns out, survival comes with an emotional aftertaste.

Here’s what no one puts on the pamphlet: cancer doesn’t just affect your body. It rewires your nervous system. Once you’ve lived in crisis mode, your brain becomes an overachiever. Every sensation becomes suspicious. Every quiet moment invites a “what if.”

And fear? Fear gets clever. It pretends it’s just being responsible. Checking in on things just to be safe.

Because left unchecked, it steals your joy in sensible shoes. It steals your perfect sunny afternoon walking the dog.  It steals your time with family and friends. It steals everything!

I spent a long time trying to stay positive through the fear. Smile harder. Be grateful louder. Pretend confidence would scare it away. Spoiler: fear does not respond to motivational quotes. Trust me, I tried!

What helped was something far less glamorous.

I stopped fighting it.  I stopped resisting what I had been through for the last 2 and a half years.

Instead, I acknowledged it.
“Yes, that happened.”
“Yes, that was terrifying.”
“Yes, my body remembers.”

And then I grounded myself in what is actually true, not what might be.

Right now, I am okay.
Right now, I am alive.
Right now, my body is not the enemy.

Living with the fear of recurrence isn’t about pretending it won’t happen. It’s about refusing to let a hypothetical future hijack today. It’s about choosing presence over panic, even when uncertainty taps you on the shoulder.

Some days, that looks like movement. Dancing myself back into trust.
Some days, it looks like rest. Real rest, not “earning it” rest.
Some days, it looks like laughing at something ridiculous and realizing I’m still here for the punchline.

And yes, some days fear still shows up. But it no longer gets to drive.  It is just the passenger in the backseat that every now and then tries to be the backseat driver and we all know how we feel about “those ones”!

If you’re living in this space, wondering if you’re doing survivorship “wrong,” let me be clear: you’re not broken. You’re not weak. You’re not failing.

You’re adapting.

We don’t dance because the future is guaranteed.
We dance because the music is playing now.

And today, that’s more than enough.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

If this resonates, you’re not alone.

In Dancing Through Diagnosis, I share what survivorship really looks like, the good, the messy, and the surprisingly funny moments no one prepares you for.

Available now on Amazon, Indigo and if you are reading this blog, you are on my site and you can find it here at www.tammygunn.com

Because healing doesn’t end when treatment does.  YOU are NOT alone!
Why Weighted Vests & Belts Are the Secret Weapon for Aging Like a Badass…

Why Weighted Vests & Belts Are the Secret Weapon for Aging Like a Badass…

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I was recently approached by this amazing Canadian company to learn more about the benefits of weighted wearables and I have learned that this REALLY IS a secret weapon to taking care of ones’ health.  Here is why…

Let’s be upfront and honest…Aging is a privilege and it also comes with a few surprises. Achy joints. Slower recovery. Random mystery sounds when you get out of a chair. And for many women (and men!) creeping into midlife and beyond, bone density decides to play a cruel game of limbo: How low can you go?  Me? Not very low anymore!

If you’re a woman on tamoxifen, you’ve probably already heard the warnings whispered like ghost stories around a campfire: osteopenia… osteoporosis… brittle bones. And the fun part? Many don’t realize bone loss can start early, especially through cancer treatment. And you do not have to have gone through cancer treatment to be facing this lovely part of getting older! But before you wrap yourself in bubble wrap and swear off all activities except crocheting (which, to be fair, is wildly underrated), let’s talk about a powerhouse solution that’s affordable, effective, and surprisingly fun:

Weighted vests and belts.

Yes. Those chunky little heroes? They’re game-changers. I have seriously fallen in love!

The Science-y Truth: Your Bones Need a Challenge

Bones aren’t passive sticks holding up your skin bag. (Such a fun way to describe being human!)  Our bones are living, always adapting, always responding to the load you place on them.
If you place more load (enter: weighted vest), they respond by saying:

“Oh, we’re doing THIS now? Fine. I’ll get stronger.”

This magic is called osteogenic loading, and it’s one of the best ways to keep your skeleton solid as you age. Walking, dancing, cleaning, doing stairs — all get a bone-boosting upgrade when you add a little safe, evenly-distributed weight.  And it is so easy that you don’t need to really do anything different in your day, other than throw on the vest or belt before you do your regular activities!

Benefits of wearing a weighted vest/or belt include:

  • Increased bone density

  • Stronger posture (hello superhero stance)

  • Better balance

  • Improved muscle tone

  • Higher calorie burn (without doing anything extra = blessed.)

  • Confidence boost because you feel like a warrior in disguise (I am not kidding! You will feel so good all over!)

Let’s Talk Weighted Gear & Tamoxifen: Your Bones Deserve Backup

Tamoxifen is a lifesaver but it can be a bone-density troublemaker for some people, especially premenopausal women. Even post-treatment, the risk of osteoporosis can be higher.  It is the little pill that decreases your chances of cancer recurring but like anything you take, it comes with side effects and here we are fighting to keep our bone health safe!

So what can help?

Regular weight-bearing movement + added load = bones staying dense, fierce, and fully employed.

A weighted vest or belt is like giving your bones a pep talk:
“Hey, don’t you dare shrink. We’ve got things to do.”

Every time I put mine on I feel like a Super Hero getting ready to take on the day! It is an amazing confidence boost!

Vests vs. Belts: Which One’s Your Style?

I mention both because I own both and I LOVE them both for different reasons so let me break down each of them for you…

Weighted Vests

Perfect for:

  • Walking

  • Hiking

  • Household chores

  • Teaching or taking Zumba (I see you!)

  • Everyday errands that double as stealth workouts

It sits comfortably, distribute weight evenly, and doesn’t shift around like that bra you know you should get rid of but wear all the time anyway!

Weighted Belts

Perfect for:

  • Dog walks

  • Running

  • Mobility work

  • People who want the benefits without looking like they’re wearing tactical gear

Belts are subtle but powerful like the quiet kid from high school who later becomes a CEO.

Next up…Okay But Why Power WearHouse?

Because — and I’m not exaggerating — they’re the best weighted vests and belts on the market.
Most weights out there?
• Too bulky
• Too bouncy
• Dig into your shoulders
• Or look like they were designed by someone who hates comfort…seriously….why would you wear something that is so uncomfortable when you have a choice?!

Power WearHouse gets it RIGHT!
Comfortable. Adjustable. Designed for real bodies doing real movement. And they actually look… good!

I’ve tested them. I’ve worn them. I’ve danced in them. I’ve walked my dog in them. I’ve lived my life in them. And I can confidently say:
Your future bones will thank you.

Here is MY Invitation to Level Up (With a Discount 😏)

If you’re ready to age with strength, sass, mobility, and bones that refuse to quit, here’s your moment.

👉🏼 Order your weighted vest or belt at:

powerwearhouse.com

Click the link above and use my code POWERWITHTAMMY for a sweet little discount because strong bones shouldn’t come with a big price tag.

My Final Thoughts:

You don’t need to overhaul your life.
You don’t need to join a gym.
You don’t need to turn into “that person” who talks about fitness at dinner parties.

Just add a vest or belt to what you’re already doing like walking the dog, climbing stairs, dancing in the kitchen, chasing the kids, or living your everyday magic.

A little weight today = a LOT more living tomorrow.

Your bones are ready.
Your future self is cheering.
And honestly? You’re going to look fantastic.

Don’t just take my word for it…EXPERIENCE it for YOURSELF!

Much love,

Tammy
When Healing Feels Heavy: My Life with Lymphedema

When Healing Feels Heavy: My Life with Lymphedema

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Nobody warned me that surviving cancer came with bonus features…

Scars? Expected.

Fatigue? Sure.

Random swelling that makes me feel like I have arm-wrestled the Pillsbury Doughboy and lost? Yeah, that one was not in the brochure.

Welcome to life with lymphedema! The unwanted gift that keeps on giving!

When I woke up after my bilateral mastectomy, I was greeted with the news that the surgeon had to take many of my lymph nodes from my right arm pit because they tested positive for cancer.  I knew this might happen but on the day of surgery they still were not clear if they would need to.  I had my mind set that they wouldn’t need to so this was a blow to my emotional state when they told me.  What it now meant was my lymph system used to move fluid around efficiently. Now it’s like, “Nope, I’m out. You handle it.” The result? One arm (and sometimes armpit) that swells, tightens, and throbs like one of those neon lights flickering in a window.

What It Feels Like (Spoiler: Not a Spa Day)

Imagine wearing an invisible blood-pressure cuff that never quite releases. Add in a pinch of heaviness, a dash of tingling, and the occasional “did-someone-stuff-a-tennis-ball-under-my-skin?” sensation. That’s lymphedema.

Most mornings, I wake up and my arm looks fine… almost normal. Other days, it feels like it’s been filled with wet sand overnight. If I lift it too long or skip my sleeve, I swear I can hear it puff up like a balloon.  You may not be able to see it because my arm so far doesn’t swell up as bad as many others do but I can feel it and it feels huge and uncomfortable.

Oh, and don’t get me started on how weather affects it. Humid days? Forget it. My arm swells faster than my hair in a rainstorm.

How I Deal with It (and Try Not to Lose My Mind)

Let’s get one thing straight: lymphedema isn’t something you cure. It’s something you manage …like a grumpy roommate who refuses to move out. But I’ve learned a few tricks to keep the peace.

  1. Compression Garments: My Not-So-Sexy Armor

Yes, I wear a compression sleeve. Sometimes a bra that feels like it was engineered by NASA. They’re not glamorous, but they work. You get used to it. Think of them like Spanx for your lymph system. Juzo.com has some of the most beautiful tattoo style prints that make compression sleeves a thing of fashion!

I’ve learned to pick fun colors and pretend like I’m auditioning for a superhero reboot: “Lympha-Woman: Defender of Circulation!”

  1. Massage and Manual Drainage

There’s a fancy name for it — Manual Lymphatic Drainage — which sounds like a plumbing service. But it’s basically gentle self-massage to help move fluid. I do it daily, whispering encouraging things to my arm like, “Come on, girl, let’s get things flowing. You can do it!”

  1. Movement That Doesn’t Make Me Swear

Exercise helps but not the “crush-it” kind. Think Zumba, walking, stretching, yoga, and anything that keeps the lymph fluid moving without overdoing it.
I’ve learned the hard way that pushing too far means puffing up later. So now I stop before my arm throws a tantrum.

  1. Hydration (and Fewer Salty Snacks, Sigh)

Turns out the more water I drink, the less my arm swells. Wild, right? I also try to limit salt and sugar. This is a tough one because I love a good salty snack!
But I’ll be real… if it’s movie night and there’s popcorn; I’m not measuring sodium content. I’ll just wear my sleeve, deal with the swelling and call it balance.

  1. Skin Care Is Non-Negotiable

Because my lymph system’s lazy, any cut or bug bite could turn into an infection. So, I baby my skin like it’s royalty. I never was one to be great at skincare before but now I am obsessed with moisturizer, gentle soap, and clean towels. Basically, I treat my arm and all of my skin better than anything.

  1. Rest and Elevation

Sometimes the best thing I can do is lie down and prop my arm up like it’s living its best queen life. It’s not glamorous, but hey, if my arm wants to relax on a pillow throne, so be it. It helps!

The Mental Weight No One Talks About

Physically, lymphedema is uncomfortable. But emotionally? It’s exhausting. It’s a daily reminder that even though I “beat cancer,” my body still carries the baggage. There are days I look at my swollen arm and think, Seriously? Haven’t we been through enough?

Then there are days I marvel at what my body still can do. It’s carried me through chemo, surgery, radiation, and now, this. It’s a little swollen, a little stubborn, but still showing up. Kind of like me!

I’ve learned to laugh about it when I can. I even gave my swollen side a nickname: The Diva. She acts up when I’m stressed, hates humidity, and demands attention. But when I care for her, she usually settles down.

What I Want Others to Know

If you’re dealing with lymphedema or love someone who is, know that this condition is both invisible and relentless. It’s not “just swelling.” It’s physical discomfort, body image frustration, and a lifelong maintenance plan. But it’s also survivorship. It’s resilience with a side of sarcasm.

And here’s the thing: I may have to manage this forever, but I refuse to let it manage me.

I dance. I write. I live. Some days I do it with grace; other days I do it with a swollen armpit and a bad attitude. But I do it! And that’s what matters.

My Final thought: Healing isn’t about looking perfect. It’s about learning to live fully even when one arm needs a little extra TLC and a custom sleeve.

When you see me out dancing with my compression gear on, don’t pity me. Just know I’m moving, sweating, and still very much living through the swell.

It is not easy. But it is do-able!

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Dancing Through Diagnosis Tammy Gunn Breast Cancer Survivor Memoir