
The Plunge
Emily, my current-but-soon-to-be-former boss at the yoga studio where I work, pulls up in front of my house and sends me a text, “Here!” I
Navigating dual primary cancer—one step, one rep, one breath at a time.
by Alli Houseworth

Emily, my current-but-soon-to-be-former boss at the yoga studio where I work, pulls up in front of my house and sends me a text, “Here!” I

I turn and let the shower water hit my shoulders, my back. I reach up and wipe my eyes, puffy from two days of crying.

I can’t remember the last time I missed a minute of the Super Bowl, but here I am on this particularly freezing second Sunday in

I’m sitting at a two-top table at a Mexican restaurant in Charlottesville, Virginia with my co-worker Ben, housing chips and guac while he tells me

I’m ten. Maybe eleven. I’m sitting at our family computer—a Macintosh SE. It has smiley faces and lives in our family room. I am attending

Though it’s pitch black out and it’s been fifteen years since I’ve driven US Highway 158, my body remembers the rhythm of the road. Which

My best friend asked me if I remembered coming out of anesthesia for my breast surgery. I do. I remember the nurses talking about travel.

My friend Micah was in town and came over last night. We were catching up on many things, including how f’ing hard it’s been to

February 23, 2026 Fourteen days post-op — boots on broadway If you had told me one week ago that I would feel like this— energized,
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Navigating dual primary cancer—one step, one rep, one breath at a time.