So here I am, staring at my shiny new Exemestane prescription like it’s a breakup text. After way too much thinking (and some serious couch-sitting), I’ve made my decision:

I’m NOT switching.

Instead, I’m marching—well, shuffling—back to my oncologist this week to fight for Fulvestrant like the stubborn warrior I am. Meanwhile, my body has clearly received the “fight” memo too, because lately, every joint has staged a full-on mutiny.

After my reconstruction surgery, moving my arms feels like defusing a bomb. And don’t even get me started on the mornings. If you’ve seen the movie The Substance, there’s a scene where the character tries to unbind one glued-together leg. Me? I’m over here trying to unbend two legs, two elbows, two wrists, two shattered-feeling feet, and a back that’s decided to fully rebel.

My mornings sound like a haunted house tour: creaks, cracks, groans, and the occasional scream (usually mine). When I’m at home, my husband kindly walks me down the stairs like I’m a delicate, slightly angry flamingo. If he’s not there? Well, I might just be waiting for security to come find me.

At this point, it would take some serious kickboxing skills just to unstick me from the couch.

Meanwhile, my daily beverage parade marches on:

Lemon water (because hydration is cheaper than Botox)

Coffee (because hope is not a strategy)

The Juice Circuit: Celery, tart cherry, blueberry, and a splash of pomegranate (because I like to keep things spicy)

Digestive support (essential for the post-cancer diva stomach)

And of course, my Letrozole pill. Every single morning, it does a dramatic swan dive out of my hand. I see you, subconscious. I know you’re trying to tell me something. But we’re not quitting.

Sure, the pain has gotten worse. Sure, I now officially sound like a bag of microwave popcorn when I move. But quitting isn’t on the menu. Because as much as my joints might hate me right now, the idea of letting cancer sneak back in? I hate that even more.

So good morning, warriors. Creak, crack, pop, sip, and smile. Never forget: We are here. We are fierce. And somehow, even when we’re creaky… we are still totally fabulous.

Take the Lead in Your Treatment Being the "CEO of your own cancer journey" means making the tough calls, even when they’re uncomfortable. If you’re ready to stop being a passive patient and start being your own best advocate, I’m here to help you find your voice. Check out my book for the full strategy on how I navigate the medical system, or visit my website to join a community of survivors who refuse to back down.