963.5 hours

That's 40 days, 3 1/2 hours.

Which is exactly how long I knew I had cancer. 

That number stopped climbing today, 

because as I sat across from my favorite breast cancer surgeon ever

she looked at me and said,

"You know what? You're cancer free, baby. 

From here out, it's all preventative.

I got it all. All of it."

I have no idea how long the pause was as it sank in. 

Then there was a perfect double high 5. 

No awkward cockeyed hit with one hand. Perfect, 

cancer-free high fives. Then hugging. And crying. 

(Well, she didn't cry. She's a surgeon. But she was super happy.)

Radiation starts tomorrow. But I am cancer-free.

And after that, endocrine therapy. But I am cancer-free.

And we better damn well take the house in 2 weeks, 

because I am cancer-free.

So today is a day best summed up with,

"Brett who?" 

Love you all, 

Ginnie

PS: Fuck cancer