It's officially a week after Michelle's final chemo infusion and I fully expect this will be our last journal entry on this website. You've all done an excellent job of caring and bridging over the last few months. Really good work.

If you'd like to see Michelle's own video highlights from her last day of chemo, check out her pinned instagram story here: LAST DAY OF CHEMO

At this point, she doesn't feel wonderful, but it could be (and has been) worse. She's experiencing hot flashes and neuropathy and general weakness, but at least we've learned how to use saline IV's and electrolytes and ALL THE MEDICINES ON EARTH to stay ahead of the wild sodium swings and heart palpitations that have led to previous ER visits.

By her own estimate, she's lost 2/3 of her hair. It seems like every time she showers or touches it or breathes wrong, she pulls out another clump of blonde angel locks. Brutal. All that said, the cold capping seems to have been a success. In contrast with many of her fellow chemo patients at the cancer center, Michelle isn't bald. So there's that.

And while Michelle is dogged about emphasizing the draining effects of chemotherapy (and they are relentless), I'll also sneak in a quick paragraph about how impressive she has been throughout all of this. Sure, she gave herself a solid head start by staying in fantastic shape, body is a temple, blah blah blah. But her inhuman trail running pace has only slightly slowed. She's run Beehive Basin (6.5 mile out and back with 1300 ft climb beginning at 7700 ft elevation) TWICE. And not only has she continued to be supermom to the boys, but she also totally prepped our condo to be sold while I was away producing a film. So yeah, she kind of beat chemo's ass.

Of course, no part of that success story would have been possible without the absurd levels of support we've gotten from our family and friends. My ramblings have already kept you long enough, so I won't list off names, but the visits and meals and calls and care packages have been overwhelming and instrumental. Thank you all so much. We feel loved.

Michelle's journey isn't over. She's still got to contend with an impending white blood cell count nadir and the long, dusty road of forced menopause (including a fun decision about hormone therapy vs ovary removal surgery), but our expectation is that the worst bits of battling breast cancer are in the rearview and she's made it over the caring bridge... or maybe the bridge brought your care to her?.. however the metaphor works, you get it. She did it. Pink ribbons earned.