What a fall (literally) it has been for me. My health continues to decline as the chemo I have been on since August, Trodelvy, doesn’t appear to be working as well as we hoped. I still have the same amount of cancerous fluid in my abdomen and lung
Read MoreI understand my prognosis is bad. I have watched far too many friends die of this disease. I know the facts. Yet, I am just not ready yet to take this path. I know there will be a day when I turn from fighting to acceptance. Am I there already? How will I know? How do I find peace?
Read MoreI do all the normal every day things like buy school supplies while crying uncontrollably that this might be the last back to school I am here for. Choosing 1,000 times a day to find beauty in the brutal.
Read MoreThe smile doesn’t mean the pain is over. I still have the same amount of cancerous fluid building up in my abdomen and lining of my lung. I still feel exhausted, weak and shaky. I am still terrified of what the future holds, actually even more so as we get further down this chemo path without a significant decrease in cancer. And, yet, I smile.
Read MoreBeing here makes me smile and I have mustered up strength to do things I love like jumping into freezing cold Lake Michigan, boating, swimming, sailing & more. But, there are also hundreds of reminders each day of how I’m not the person I used to be. My weakness, fatigue & bulging belly a constant reminder of the cancer that is growing in my body.
Read MoreI hold both fear and joy in the same hand at the same time. It’s just right now fear is a bowling ball and joy, a slippery little pea.
Read MoreTime together, sacred moments I cherish with my whole being. Grateful for the chance to travel together again and make memories with my 3 boys. Now, the unknown of cancer is lurking around every turn of the drive home.
Read MoreI have come to understand that “A Meaningful life is a flourishing life, marked by the courage to suffer and the courage to flourish - regardless of what comes next.” I like to think of it this way, Hope is not contingent.
Read MoreLike with muscles we get stronger- both with repetition and as the burden gets heavier. I’ve been facing cancer for 13 years. 7 with metastatic breast cancer.
Read MoreI am grateful, not because of abundance or the absence of struggle, but because as we approach life with Thanksliving - we recognize how fragile and precious and miraculous it all is.
Read MoreI cried ugly tears and felt rage building inside me. I tried a hot bubble bath and a walk in the sunshine - momentarily clinging to the peace of stability… but the anger clung tight.
Read MoreWhat we need right now is Grit and Grace. Give yourself a break when you trip & get back up.
Read MoreWhen I wake up I am happy. I stretch and take a deep breath and then… remember.
Fear. Uncertainty. Sadness.
Read MoreIf you know someone considered “vulnerable” by today’s COVID-19 standards, check on them. Chances are they are feeling a bit sad.
Read MoreEven as I process the news of cancer progression and the uncertainty this brings… I am reminded, hope is not contingent.
Read MoreYour feelings are your feelings. They are neither good or bad. Nor, are they valued in comparison to someone else’s.
Read MoreAs I sat in the cancer center this morning I jotted down what I heard in 5 minutes… listen.
Read MoreToday Hope Scarves celebrated our 8th birthday! Reflecting on all we’ve done and all we still hope to do.
Read MoreThe scarf that started it all - returned to Hope Scarves in a touching event to celebrate the life of our friend Roberta, launch a program in her hometown of Pittsburgh and remind us all of the beauty of our shared story.
Read MoreToday, I turn 43.
While some cringe at the idea of growing old… I celebrate! All I want is to get old and wrinkly.
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