Several weeks ago, I had what I would say is one of the strangest experiences of my cancer journey, thus far.

It happened after my second needle biopsy, to test tissue in another spot near my initial tumor. That biopsy turned out to be positive for cancer, so it confirmed this second spot was another cancer.

But, that wasn’t the strange part. That came after the doctor taped me up and I wrapped my gown back around my chest. The doctor left the room and the nurse who was collecting everything used in the biopsy turned to me and said, “do you want to see the tissue sample?”

During my first biopsy, I was not given this option. And frankly, I was so terrified, I wouldn’t have wanted it anyway. But this time was different. I already knew I had cancer, and my surgeon had warned me that this was likely a satellite tumor, which was pretty common. I had little notion that this was going to come back anything but positive.

So, after a short pause, I told her, “yes.”

She showed me the tiny vial that contained some fluid and little pieces of tissue that looked sort of like bits of spaghetti noodles. This was my cancer?! It looked so, well, harmless.

I’m not sure what exactly I was expecting–I guess some black, grungy looking thing or some kind of weird, gelatinous, Ghostbusters-esque blob. Something more ominous, for sure.

Since I’ve started chemo, I’ve thought a lot about that tissue, or rather, its brethren still inside my body. Not long after my first treatment, I actually tried to feel my main tumor. I’d avoided it like the plague once I learned it was cancer, but I thought it might be worth checking to see what was going on. Instead of being a hard, very prominent lump, it was smaller and harder to find. Could it already be shrinking?!

The answer was yes, according to my wonderful oncologist. He also told me that tenderness I’ve felt is likely from the cancer cells dying and other cells coming in to do “clean up.” (I like the idea of my other cells jumping in to help tidy up this mess–thanks, guys!)

I know that because of my prognosis, this shrinking isn’t as big a deal since I’ll need a bilateral mastectomy anyway, but knowing that these drugs that make me feel like garbage are in there waging battle, and freaking winning, makes me feel so good. And if this shit has moved anywhere else in my body, I hope it’s getting the same beat-down going on in my breast. Little victories like this are what get me through the day, and even when the enemy doesn’t actually look all that scary, knowing he’s getting destroyed still feels pretty damn good.