06/17/2025
UPDATE FROM SHELLY DATED JUNE 13th, 2025:
“Real talk” update from where I stand in this moment and reflections on making it through the first 24 hours post-op of another brain surgery:
First, thank you for all the love and support you’ve sent my way. I’ve felt it. I’ve held onto it. And I don’t take a single bit of it for granted. The fact that I’m still here is a miracle, and I know many of you have been rooting hard for me. I feel the celebration and relief from those who care about me. And that matters more than I can say.
But I also need to be honest about where I actually am right now.
The truth is: I’m struggling. This has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to move through, and I’m still deep in it.
Medically, the surgery went well — and I’m beyond grateful to be alive and to have had a world-class surgeon and team at UCSF with magic hands. But the recovery thus far has been rough and the limitations I now face are hard.
If you know me, you know I’m a straight shooter — no sugarcoating. Thank you for accepting me as I am, in both my strengths and my messiness.
Having major brain surgery is not just a physical event — it’s a total system reset. My body, my brain, my nervous system, my emotions… everything is trying to find its footing again, and it’s intense.
Right now, I’m about 95% immobile. I know that this immediate post-op situation is temporary, and I keep reminding myself to be patient, but it’s still hard. I’ve got a catheter, painful IVs in both arm/hands that make me not be able to use my arms and the surgical site took nearly eight hours to stop bleeding. I’m in the Neuro ICU, running on almost no sleep. My throat, mouth, and lips are raw from intubation. My head hurts from blood rerouting through new vessels in my brain. Chris has been incredible — doing everything — and is juggling being here and being with the kids.
Physically and mentally, I feel banged up. And while there is so much gratitude — real, grounded gratitude — for being alive, I’m also grieving. I’m grieving the “before” version of myself, the plans and the pace I used to know. It all feels deeply disrupted right now, tangled up in new limitations and meds and unknowns.
So I’m holding two things at once:
Gratitude for being alive.
Grief for everything this has cost me.
This experience is changing me. I don’t yet know all the ways. But I do know this: I’m not feeling okay right now in this moment. And I want to tell you that plainly — not to worry you, not for sympathy, but because honesty matters to me. I’ve never been one to fake it. The truth is, I feel isolated. I feel altered. And in many moments, I feel alone inside this healing.
So I’m writing this to let you in — not for solutions or silver linings, but so I don’t have to carry the weight of pretending. If you’re wondering how to show up for me, it’s not with answers. It’s with presence. Patience. Space for me to just be where I am.
I’m letting it suck right now — because it does. And I’ve realized that letting it suck isn’t the opposite of healing… it is part of healing.
That said, I’m also doing my best to stay focused on what I can do — even if it’s small, even if it’s slow. I don’t know exactly what the road ahead looks like, I’m trying to let myself feel everything without getting swallowed by it. I’m trying to trust that this pain, this grief, this heaviness… is temporary. I want to find ways to heal, to rebuild, and to feel into my wholeness again — I commit to start thinking strategically about the shifts I am going to make. I keep holding onto hope, grit, and and resilience. I keep reminding myself I will come out of this wiser, stronger, and more grounded. But for now, I’m just committed to getting through this immediate difficult post-op pain. One thing is for sure: tomorrow is a brand new day with new possibilities  if we are blessed enough to wake up in the morning.
Thank you for believing in me — especially now.
As my friend Jen reminded me: “Even the strongest warriors need time to recalibrate and learn how to rise again after a battle knocks them down. You are still a warrior. You are still Light. That doesn’t change just because your physical body is healing.”
I’ll be back in warrior badass mode when I can be. I promise. I’m just not there yet.
Here’s to the strength we all carry within us even when it feels far away. Sometimes, just getting through the rawest part is its own kind of bravery.
May the Universe and all of you know how deeply grateful I am for all of the gifts of unexpected abundance I have received. You know who you all are.🙏🏼
I love you.
me
