<Ritual Preamble: You don’t have to read this stuff. You don’t have to respond. I know I’ve withdrawn from a lot of direct relation-ing, and I offer these missives as a way of knowing what’s going on with me in a given moment. For those that wonder. The way I feel, and the way I experience life changes so much from moment to moment that I’m generally in shock most of the days. Don’t take my stuff too seriously. I’ll probably forget I wrote it by tomorrow.>

Angie’s List

I recently wrote about my disappointment with the health care system and I’m gonna continue to rant sometimes, because. 

But not today! Today, we focus on what we LOVE about people making the best of a faulty system. If there was a Yelp for Healthcare (there might already be… don’t send it to me! I don’t want it!), I might submit glowing reviews for these folks. Instead, I offer Angie B’s list of shining stars, because shout outs are important.

I told you that the prospect of finding care providers that partner with me was overwhelming. I did it anyway! I really LOVE the people I have put in place. Thanks to family friends that I adore, who have gone out of their way to give me referrals and help me identify a list of respectable caregivers, I have found and put together a team I feel good about.

My surgeon, Dr. Krystle Collins is at Fred Hutch, and she has been amazing. She has an easy bedside manner and a well timed sense of humor. She learns her audience and meets me well in conversation. She knows how to communicate effectively with me, she makes herself available. She has called me on the phone early in the morning or in the evening on her way home from work when she gets news we’ve been waiting for. 

And let’s talk about her skill, shall we? When I first met her, she felt me up, talked to me for 10 minutes and said “I can save your nipple.” I replied with something like, “wait, is that something I should be concerned about? What do you mean…?”  It was easy to talk to her, and easier to hear news from her and I very much appreciated her confidence. She did a remarkable job removing the tumor and one lymph node without making a mess of my chest. She did what she said she was going to do- she saved my nipple, and then some! She gets 5 stars on 5 star platforms, gold medals in olympic games, and her management team should give her an annual bonus for being a super star across all patient-facing realms. I’m almost sad to be moving on to my next phase. I like her and I trust her.

I didn’t match well with the first oncologist I saw— though it’s only fair of me to admit that she was probably 87% correct in everything she shared with us, and what she interpreted about the cancer I’m sporting.

That said, since I’m going to need to date my oncologist for 10 (ten!) years, I need to like them. Good news! I like the one I found! Dr. Kinsey McCormick at Swedish Cancer Center is all she’s cracked up to be. She’s kind, patient, and thoughtful. I came into her office pretty dead set on not doing chemotherapy, not wanting to do radiation, and wanting her to explain to me why naturopathic approaches to treatment aren’t going to fix this. She responded so well— she drew pictures! She was supportive and respectful! She even encouraged natural approaches in concert with the clinical ones. When she came in to share the news that chemotherapy was recommended, she made it seem like we won the lottery. She trotted into the room, smiling and waving the test papers like “look what I have!”… we thought it was good news. Haha! Wait. What? Dang…

Of all the ones though— my acupuncturist gets the top prize. Heidi Holmquist is an exquisite practitioner. Wow. I don’t understand acupuncture, but it works on me, and Heidi does an amazing job with it. She saved my life (literally) during the shoulder debacle, she’s been instrumental in healing, and I am highly confident she’s going to take the edge off any chemotherapy stuff that’s coming my way. She’s incredible. 

These are the kinds of people who restore one’s feelings in what I believe care should/could be. I am in good hands. 

What’s Next

Oh! So I previewed for you what’s next!  I’m done with surgery! Tumor gone! I received the results of the pathology and other tests from my surgeries, and based on these and the best available science my providers recommend chemotherapy and radiation. And by care providers, I mean all of them. Even the second and third opinions, and the naturopathic oncologist. So I’ve elected to follow their recommendations, and I start my first round of chemo on Boxing Day.

Yeah— I have a lot of feelings right now. They roll so quickly and strongly that I don’t have time to ruminate on them and then write to you. The words that come from them morph and run faster than I can type. I sat down to type this thinking I’d have so much to share, and I’m spending a lot of time staring out the window, the cursor patiently blinking on the screen waiting for me.

For those who find themselves wanting all the details— the oncotype DX score or the number of rounds of chemo and radiation, or what the chemo drugs are, or if I’ve considered hyperbaric chambers and vitamin C— thank you. Thank you for caring so much about me that you’ll dig in to the details and work on finding me all the options available. Or that you’ll try to understand so much to relate to what’s happening from moment to moment. Or whatever the reasons that drive you to want to know more… I see you. :) And— I know everyone on this email and in my circle will so very much appreciate that I am not sharing ALL the nitty gritty of the medical approach to my care.

I will share that I will be rocking the chemotherapy party through the end of February, and then getting ready for radiation and the 2026 garden season in March through (??). I’m currently preparing by trying to set my expectations carefully— not too high and ambitious, not too low and sluggish. Before cancer (and I will henceforth refer to the time before I received a cancer diagnosis as BC), I was planning to ski this winter, every week. God might be doing me a solid by tempering the snow season this year…? I don’t wish it on the rest of you, but it reduces my winter FOMO.

I was going to start a lot of flowers and veggies in the greenhouse this spring. We’ll see. I will start some. The quantity remains to be seen. 

I was going to plan a wedding party for 2026. We will still plan. The when/where/how remains to be seen.

I was going to do a lot of things that I now may, or may not do. I still want to try, but I am learning NOT to push through something I should be resting in. That’s a BC practice that I’ve got to level up in, now. Cancer feels a little like enrollment in a graduate-level new school in life lessons and practice.

Ryan has been such a king, such a champion, such a rock. I adore him. His patience and kindness is truly unmatched. He inspires me to get up each day, and shoot for the best version of myself. He encourages me, and he doesn’t get disappointed when I don’t hit my targets. He welcomes my tears, we share serious laughs. He tolerates my crude and insouciant humor about cancer. He let’s friends and family take care of me and us. He is by my side all the time, and he leaves me with my Self when I need solitude. He protects my solitude, and me. He’s got me. We are SOLID. What we have is the finest thing I’ve ever made, ever been part of. Most of you know what I’ve made or been part of, and I’m pretty proud of the things I’ve helped build. Our relationship is my finest co-creation. I love him.

As I’ve told folks— my hair is too good to sacrifice to chemo, so I cut it off and sent it to locks of love. Someone out there should get a great head of support hair, and I’d rather do that than clog my drains and burn out my vacuum motors. I’ve really embraced this likely hair-loss thing. No more bikini waxing needed, right? Excited about fun wigs and soft hats and scarves for the winter months. My friend and hairdresser, Tim says “you won’t wear a wig. You will hate the way they feel.” And he’s probably right. But I’m gonna try them anyway. Not the spendy ones… the fun ones. Green or rainbow hair. Black with bangs ala Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction. You know, cosplay stuff.

May your winter solstice days be full of light and love. I am sending you all of mine.

Angie B.