Twenty-Six Countries and One Badass Thank You
🌼 Date: Wednesday, July 1, 2026
⚡ Energy: Grateful, amazed, and slightly speechless
💖 Status: Celebrating six months of One Badass Day at a Time
🥰 Outlook: This little blog has traveled farther than I have
With the 4th of July coming up and the nation celebrating 250 years, I decided this was the perfect time for a celebration post.
Not fireworks.
Not sparklers.
Not me attempting to wear red, white, and blue while wrapped in three layers at the Oregon coast.
This celebration is for you.
Every single one of you who has read, followed, commented, checked in, shared, cried with me, laughed with me, prayed for me, rooted for me, or joined this wild little ride called my life.
I started this blog at the end of December 2025.
And somehow, this post right here is post #190.
One hundred and ninety posts in six months.
That is a lot of words.
A lot of feelings.
A lot of medical nonsense.
A lot of tears.
A lot of laughter.
A lot of “what fresh hell is this?” moments.
And apparently, a lot of people reading along.
At the time, I honestly thought it would be more like a digital diary.
A place where I could write updates once instead of retelling the same medical story over and over again.
A place where my family and friends could check in when they wanted to know how I was doing.
A place where I could be honest about cancer, treatment, side effects, grief, fear, humor, hope, and all the weird little things nobody tells you about until you are living them.
I never expected this.
Six months later, One Badass Day at a Time has reached 1,001 separate viewers.
One thousand and one.
That alone blows my mind.
We have had 2,505 views, which means each person is reading an average of about two and a half posts.
But the statistic that almost made me pass out?
This little ol’ blog has been read in twenty-six different countries.
Twenty.
Six.
Countries.
I cannot even name twenty-six countries without help, and I just looked at the list.
That is insane to me.
Absolutely unimaginable.
I started this because I needed a place to put the thoughts, the updates, the fear, the humor, the ugly truth, and the tiny victories.
I started this because cancer is too heavy to carry quietly.
I started this because I wanted people to understand what this journey really looks like, not just the pink ribbon version.
And somehow, this little blog has reached people around the world.
People I know.
People I love.
People I have never met.
People who may be walking through cancer themselves.
People who love someone with cancer.
People who are grieving.
People who are healing.
People who are just here because apparently my life has become part medical drama, part comedy show, part emotional support circus.
And honestly?
Welcome.
I am honored and blessed that so many of you have chosen to take this journey with me.
I hope something in my story has helped you.
Maybe it helped you feel less alone.
Maybe it helped you understand what someone you love is going through.
Maybe it reminded you to schedule the appointment, ask the question, check your body, or trust your gut.
Maybe it gave you words for something you did not know how to explain.
Maybe it just made you laugh on a day you needed one.
And if that is all it did, that still matters.
Because sometimes laughter really is medicine.
Not the kind insurance covers, of course.
Let’s not get crazy.
But the kind that helps you breathe when life is heavy.
The kind that gets you through one more hard day.
The kind that reminds you there is still joy, even in the middle of the mess.
So thank you.
To those of you who have been here from the beginning, thank you for sticking with me.
To those of you who found me somewhere along the way, thank you for joining in.
To those of you who are brand new, buckle up.
This ride is not over.
Not even close.
There are still appointments.
Still fills.
Still hormone blockers.
Still side effects.
Still reconstruction ahead.
Still recovery.
Still grief.
Still healing.
Still beach trips, puppy chaos, protein experiments, Google MD rabbit holes, and whatever fresh nonsense my body decides to throw into the plot.
This chapter is not closed yet.
But six months in, I can say this:
I am still here.
Still writing.
Still laughing.
Still crying.
Still healing.
Still telling the truth.
Still taking it one badass day at a time.
And somehow, because of all of you, this little digital diary has reached twenty-six countries around the world.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
You have made me feel seen.
You have made me feel supported.
You have reminded me that even when cancer feels isolating, I am not walking this road alone.
And that means more than I can ever say.
Happy almost 4th of July.
Happy six-month blog milestone.
Happy post #190.
Happy 1,001 viewers.
Happy twenty-six countries.
And happy “holy crap, people are actually reading this” day.
Tiny Tina is grateful.
Slightly overwhelmed.
And definitely going to need a tissue.
Want to follow the journey from the beginning?
Visit Tiny Tina – Status: Alive (Daily Check-Ins) to see the full timeline of posts.
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💗 Tina –
One Badass Day at a Time
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