Tough Twinkie

107-Year-Old Italian Longevity Tip The rumors are true. Yes, I've been distant and quiet. I’ve been reflecting. Also navigating spikes in ADHD that no one prepared me for. In fact, I’ve written several blog posts in my head, they just haven’t landed via the keyboard. However, I am back. There is something to clarify: only 1-year has been checked off the 5 -year treatment plan . It’s a circus, ladies and gents. So, let’s wheel in a cage match between certainty and reality, sponsored by promises. Having worked in marketing, I caught on early to how industries capitalize on our desire for certainty. Possibilities are spruced up to sound more like certainties. And indeed, treatment has introduced me to spruced-up possibilities. I've heard countless versions of: eat this way, move this way, avoid that... Yet, the fact is the genealogy test labeled the cancer as, “Environmental”, with no specifics of what caused it. Science has its place; after all, it's one of the reasons I'...

“Health is Wealth.” The line sounds like it was cracked from a fortune cookie— yet, wise words indeed. Part of my journey to becoming “wealthy” required sifting through grief after the cancer treatment. It hit me how terrifying the whole event was. I knew grief would be part of the circus, and yet I wasn’t prepared for the draining act. After the last post, I want to thank everyone who responded with such compassion. A friend sent this message: “Your straightforward honesty is amazing and just one of your many superpowers. Go there (grief), and then come back. We’re all here for you.” I could feel in my body they were right.  This difficult journey (going on one year) revealed deeper sisu (grit) and self-confidence— I can honor grief without letting it dominate me. Also, all of you sent encouraging words that really helped, like soothing lines from fortune cookies. It  unveiled the power of community.  I’m so appreciative, and I’d like to share some words here, because he...

Nah, Treatment Has More to Say Important notice: there is mention of depression, loss, and grief. Read it when you feel ready. Treatment — that was done and over, right? Well, no. There’s a new performance in the circus line-up. The medical term is perimenopause . This magician has a hat full of tricks — forgetfulness, stiff joints, muscle aches, hot flashes, night sweats, mood swings… and apparently, ‘not giving a frick’ can trickle out. That one, I’m actually okay with — finally, a useful skill to hoard in my adult toolbox. Before I could ride along with zero fricks, I landed in a stint of depression. Hold up — a bonus level of despair in the hat? Radiating positive numbers, my lab results confirmed that my body was bouncing back and normalizing. Overall, the outcomes from chemotherapy and surgery were positive, even “delightfully unexpected,” as the care team shared. Full of hope, I wanted to move on with life. I threw a celebration to close the past and honor a healthy start. But ...

To Enjoy ME Time Hey, it’s me, Tough Twinkie. Yes, I’m still marching through treatment, and even though  chemotherapy infusions are over and the surgery is done, I’m still in treatment. I’ll tell you all about it, I pinky promise. But right now, I’ve got some tea to spill. Between the never-ending appointments, I’ve discovered something shocking: I CAN DRIVE my own self around. Imagine that — a fully grown 33-year-old adult behind the wheel. Shocking, right? If you see me on the road, just scoot over, please. I’m enthusiastic these days, I’ve got places to be and people to see! My busy thumbs will make their grand return to this blog after the holiday season. While I’m “out of office,” I’ll be greasing up my digits because—PLOT TWIST—the treatment circus has tagged in menopause and it brought along joint stiffness. More on that soon. Well folks, thank you for your continued support, and enjoy the end of 2025. I won’t hold back from welcoming in a new year (and neither should you) ...

Now a Tough Twinkie Recently, I wrote an article for the local newspaper since October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. Check it out: https://soprissun.com/breast-cancer-and-the-trapeze-of-self-empowerment/

So NOT CLEAN “Ain’t nobody as stench as me — I’m just so NOT FRESH , and so NOT CLEAN .” It’s time my favorite duo, Outkast, tag in for the circus. Here I sit, marinating in my own limited-edition stench, packaging it up like a holiday candle no one asked for. “I love when you sniff, then scatter away from me — I’m just so NOT FRESH , and so NOT CLEAN .” Even the dogs are quarantined from my orbit. Baby wipes and sponge baths recommended after surgery, but… “I’m the itchiest grasshopper on the planet. (In my mind) there’s a flea infestation closing in — go on and panic.” Adhesive bandages are the latest act in this freak show: glued into my skin, protruding rashes and blisters. “Got me thinkin’… we fling open that patio, Crank that stank like a rodeo, Buck a bronco, let it go!” Coated in itchy rashes and stench… the time came to pack it up, freak show! At the clinic the bandages were removed and finally my skin could breathe. A few more sponge baths over a few days and the itchy rashes...