I’m Megan, and I’m starting this blog to share my journey with breast cancer — the messy parts, the hopeful parts, and the parts I never imagined I’d talk about publicly. You might be thinking, Why put something so intimate on the internet? Why share the deepest thoughts about a disease that has changed my body so drastically? Keep reading. I’ll get there.
The truth is, nothing prepares you for the moment a doctor says the word “malignant.” Nothing prepares you for the appointments, the decisions, the fear, or the strange mix of strength and softness you suddenly discover inside yourself. And nothing prepares you for how much you’ll crave connection with someone who gets it.
That’s why I’m here.
That’s why this blog exists.
This is the beginning of my story — and the beginning of choosing thriving through breast cancer, not just surviving it.
My Story
I’m 37 years old, married, and living in the beautiful (and very rainy) Pacific Northwest. Writing is basically a survival skill here, especially in the winter. My husband and I are child‑free, but we have two beloved fur‑babies — one dog, one cat, both convinced they run the household.
I’m also a scientist. I work for a company that makes a cancer drug, so I know a thing or two about immunology and cancer therapies. But let me tell you: no amount of scientific knowledge prepares you for hearing your own diagnosis. When it’s your body, your cells, your life — everything changes.
This year has been… a lot.
A car accident totaled my vehicle and sent me into months of doctor visits and physical therapy. Just as I was healing from that, I found out I had breast cancer. Talk about emotional whiplash.
One of the biggest reasons I want to document this journey is because a friend of mine walked a similar path just four months before me. Her advice, her honesty, and her encouragement made my experience so much more manageable. If you’re reading this while staring down your own diagnosis, maybe something here will help you breathe a little easier too.
Another reason? Writing has helped me process emotions for over a decade. And I don’t know about you, but I do best when I have accountability — whether it’s getting myself to the gym or working through uncomfortable feelings. So… hello accountability.
This blog is my way of staying grounded, staying honest, and staying committed to thriving through breast cancer.
Why This Blog Exists
You know that old saying: “Don’t say anything you wouldn’t want published on the front page of a newspaper.” Well… here I am, publishing it anyway.
This space will be filled with real people and real stories — stories of hope, resilience, health, and growth. Stories that remind us of our humanity. Stories that show strength through imperfection. I’ve learned that when we hear someone else’s vulnerable truth, we often find pieces of our own strength reflected back at us.
My goal is simple:
Create a space of encouragement, honesty, and inspiration.
A place where thriving through breast cancer feels possible, even on the days when everything feels heavy.
What You Can Expect
I’ll be writing about real people — myself included — and the real stories that shape us. I’ll talk about what it means to thrive and not just survive. I’ll share updates about my health journey, the emotional rollercoaster, and the practical tools that have helped me along the way.
You can expect:
- Stories of courage and perseverance
- Honest reflections about thriving through breast cancer
- Resources and tools that made a difference for me
- Nuggets of truth passed down from others
- Encouraging mantras
- And of course… humor. Because if we can’t laugh, what are we even doing?
This blog is for anyone who needs a reminder that they’re not alone. Anyone who wants to feel seen. Anyone who’s learning to navigate a life they didn’t plan for.
Closing Thoughts
If you’ve made it this far, thank you. Truly. I’m excited to see where this goes, and honestly, a little excitement for the future is something I could use right now.
Here’s to learning.
Here’s to healing.
Here’s to thriving through breast cancer — together.
Here’s to thriving, one day at a time.

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