Passing of time… the days to come

The dawn of this new day also brings the start of a new year & a new decade.  What a brilliantly new wide open beginning.  The possibility, the potential…

The Fear.

One of the first things that came to mind for me as my eyes opened to the newness … will this be the year I get sick?   Will this be the decade that I die?  Statistically speaking, probably.  Yet, that’s no way to “fresh start.”

I shake off the worries and take a deep breath.

When you live with unknown of stage 4 cancer wide open possibilities are tinged with fear.   Dreaming of the future is hard… our oldest son graduates from high school in just three years… will I be there?  New Year’s resolution- Be healthy… Don’t die.   What new talent would you like to learn?  Ukulele – seems manageable given my time constraints. Only 15 more years until retirement dreams are realized … should I even consider this as a possibility?  Lighthearted New Years conversations – daggers in my heart.

And, my biggest heartbreak… the reality that as time slips away so does this chapter of good health, adventure & laughter.   This past decade was a warp speed roller coaster.  Some days seemed to last forever (like those spent waiting for doctor appointments).  Despite the pain we laughed and traveled and loved. Years slipped by in the blink of an eye.  Our little boys grew taller than me.  “Mama, Mama, Mama”  transformed from an annoyance to an echo I long to hear just once more.

How do we balance the passing of time with the anticipation of what is to come?

We live one breath at a time.

And, we celebrate what is known:

  • We are surrounded by love
  • Each day is a gift
  • Our hope is not contingent
  • Struggle is part of the story
  • We are the authors of our lives… living a great story.

3-2-1 … Jump!

In this new year I am embarking on a new chapter professionally & creatively.

I am jumping into an initiative to expand my writing and connections … My Hopeful Life will soon not only be this blog but also a podcast, speaking events, social media and eventually, a book. Anchored by the short film, The Lara MacGregor story.

I hope to create a safe place for vulnerability & hope.  A place where we can share our stories and find common ground to celebrate all of our Hopeful Lives.



Together we will accept the passing of time with gratitude, live intentionally in each moment and be open to what is to come.

Here goes.

Happy New Year!



Gratitude changes everything

Each day is a gift. Even the hard ones.

Some days are hard.  Really hard.  But even on these days there is the opportunity to find gratitude.  (Sometimes you have to look hard.)  This morning, my heart sunk as I scrolled social media and saw that several of my friends spent yesterday in treatment.   What moved me is that they didn’t post about their toxic side effects, long waits or what they were missing out on.  They all posted about what they were thankful for-“caring nurses, warm coffee, oatmeal cookies, family by their side.”  They acknowledged the simple fact that they have access to treatment as something to be grateful for.

Approaching life with gratitude doesn’t change your circumstances.

It changes everything.

I have terrible mouth sores.   7 cancer sores to be exact.  A painful reminder that I’m at the end of my 21 day chemo cycle.  I’m bummed that it hurts to eat as we prepare for Thanksgiving dinner.  (I mean, c’mon!)  But, I choose to focus on the sun shining & our friends like family that traveled from Michigan to spend time together.  I am grateful for time to rest and reflect and give thanks.  Gratitude doesn’t make my mouth hurt less… but it changes my perspective.

We all carry some kind of pain.  Sometimes it weighs us down and is hard to find the thankfulness.   But, we can’t give up on gratitude.   That’s when it has the greatest potential to change our lives.  “Gratitude turns what we have into enough.” -Aesop

I’m grateful for each of you- who listen to my story, who support Hope Scarves and who help us change the way people experience cancer.   Each day is a gift… I hope your Thanksgiving is filled with joy and gratitude. And that you find a way to carry this intention with you.

In that way, may our Thanksgiving be never ending.






Growing older is a gift.

Today, I turn 43.

While some cringe at the idea of growing old… I celebrate!   All I want is to get old and wrinkly.

I actually thought I was turning 44.  I was convinced. It took a calculator and a persistent husband to bring me around to the idea that my proper number is 43.   It’s just that my 40th birthday party (which was an epic surprise) seems like much more than 3 years ago.  So, so much has happened since then… cancer progression, trips around the world, radiation, weddings, bad scans, surgeries, good scans, deaths, births.   I guess when you live so intensely the years seems longer.

I wished I was 44 because all I want is to get old.   50 is a big goal for me… 50 and healthy, actually.  If I may be so bold.  44 was just a little closer, but I’ll take 43.  And hold my breath for a moment thinking about what the next seven years toward my goal hold.

Then, I refocus on today.  Today is a day to celebrate!!

And, I have.  Last night my friends turned bookclub into a little surprise party.  Gathered around a cozy fireplace with friends was the perfect way to kick off my birthday weekend.   Today my kids made me birthday breakfast in bed (a MacGregor family tradition).  Then, I spent time on my yoga mat.  The teacher started class in child’s pose with “notice your breath.”  Tears dripped onto my mat as I grounded myself in gratitude.  Lunch with my boys, a little shopping & now a chocolate chip cookie and cup of tea in my favorite coffee shop. Tonight, I am meeting girlfriends to learn circus tricks and then bubbles at the Champagnery.  Tomorrow, dinner with dear friends.  Sunday, I’m hoping to volunteer together as a family.  Birthday’s are all weekend long in my world.  How lucky am I??

Today, and every day I reminded each year is a gift. Even as I live with a disease that is probably going to kill me, I choose to not only live, but to love & laugh and experience the gifts this life brings.

It’s not just about staying alive.  But to truly live.

How do you act on your aliveness?  We have to work with what we are given.  When we accept the things we can’t change and cherish each day, each year, each breath – we find the moments that bring the most joy.

Cheers to being fully alive! Bring on 43.

ps.  Thank you for all the birthday wishes, texts, messages, calls.  I feel all your love and it means so much.

Rethink Pink

Think of the worst thing that has ever happened to you in your life.  Then have the rest of the world give it a color…. say pink.   Watch people wear pink wigs, tutus, tiaras and boas as they celebrate beating it or “bring awareness” to it.    Watch as companies use this deadly disease to sell products like soup, carpet cleaning, candy & make-up.  Listen to people profess how if you are strong and determined you can “beat it.”

Keep seeing this joyful, pink celebration over and over and over.

And, over.

And know it is killing you.  Think about how it has killed hundreds of your friends.

Welcome to October for a metastatic breast cancer patient.

Now, let me clarify… I am grateful for the hard work and years of dedication to bring awareness to breast cancer.  I understand 30 years ago people faced this disease in isolation and disgrace.   The hard work to bring breast cancer into the mainstream has lead to open dialog around the disease, early detection, access to care and a beautiful community of support.  I proudly own a pair of pink boxing gloves signed by friends and family during my first diagnosis.

My family raised over $20,000 in my honor in the 2008 Komen 3 Day in Detroit, Michigan.

However, over the past 12 years of living with breast cancer my perception of the pink movement has evolved. I think it’s time the movement and your opinion does too.

Three things I’d like you to think about:

Celebrate survivors AND honor MBC survivors

At breast cancer celebrations around the country there is an acknowledgement of how long people have survived.  Often organized in groups of newly diagnosed, 1 year, 5 years, 10 years, etc… I recently attended an event where the longest survivor was 41 years past her original diagnosis.  The room erupted in cheer.   I filmed this video:

While I acknowledge this accomplishment and am happy for this lovely person’s good fortune.  This is all wrong.   She survived 40+ years because she was damn lucky.  The cancer never came back.   The people who need the support and encouragement most from the pink movement are those for which breast cancer spread to other parts of their body.  Those who are DYING of breast cancer.  No one dies from breast cancer in their breast.  It is when it spreads or becomes metastatic (stage iv) that it becomes a terminal diagnosis.

In the foreground of the video is a woman named Robin.  She has a mohawk.  Not because she is a badass (which she is). But, because she has had three rounds of full brain radiation to shrink the metastatic breast cancer tumors in her brain.   She is swollen and fatigued from steroids. Her hair doesn’t grow on the sides of her head.  In the video you see her respectfully applauding the 40+ year “winner.”

As I filmed this video tears streamed down my face.  We have created a movement where survivors are celebrated.  Living life the longest is the prize.  Pink rhinestones, sparkles and celebration. A Party in Pink. It all minimizes the brutal reality of a deadly disease.  No one sees Robin.

The way I see it, we should celebrate the number of years people have survived.  Absolutely.

But, then we should turn all the love & support of the pink movement to embrace those for whom the cancer returned… those who will never be done with treatment, facing never ending toxic treatments, living scan to scan, clinging to hope. Those who are dying.  They are the ones who need the standing ovation.   Acknowledge the reality of the disease.   Call us thrivers, metavivors, forever fighters, metastatic survivors, lifers, whatever…  But- say the words.  Make those who are dying of breast cancer the heart of the pink ribbon.   Rally around them.  Celebrate how they are living life over cancer.

See Robin.

Then, back up the applause with action.

We can all agree that pinkwashing (exploiting breast cancer to sell products) stinks. But, I am an optimist and a collaborator.  I still believe we can harness the good intent of humanity & direct enthusiasm for “fighting breast cancer ” toward efforts that will truly save lives. And it will start with people demanding money go to efforts that matter.  You can make choices in what you purchase and who you support that will start this shift.  Ask questions.  Support organizations and causes that fund research.  MBC research in particular.

Do you know that the people dying of breast cancer have felt so isolated and forgotten in the pink movement that they created another ribbon?  And, in an entire month they only feel recognized on one day – October 13th.

How is it that those who are dying of the very disease the pink ribbon claims to be “curing” don’t feel it represents them?  Well, because in a room full of 500 people they are forgotten.   The billions of dollars raised are focused on early detection (which doesn’t save lives – it detects cancer…), prevention and survivorship. Early stage survivors are afraid to talk about stage iv.  I get it.  When I was a stage 2 survivor I didn’t want to think about cancer coming back… about the fact that breast cancer can be terminal.  It’s a lot easier to celebrate survivors and the happy stories.  But, we have to be stronger.  If the hundreds of thousands of early stage survivors and their families became an ALLY for MBC  we could shift the focus of the pink ribbon.

We’re aware… how about Breast Cancer RESEARCH Month?

I have a dream that things will change.  That through advocacy, patient stories and donor direction we will start to tell the whole story of breast cancer.  Women who are DYING will become the very heart of the pink movement.  Early stage breast cancer survivors won’t be afraid of metastatic survivors but instead become their ally demanding more money for MBC research.  Outraged that 116 people die every day of breast cancer there will be a call to action to change the way money is spent on breast cancer.  While fly-fishing, pink convertibles and yoga retreats are wonderful – they aren’t going to save anyone’s life.   If we invest MORE money in understanding why cancer spreads and find more treatment options for MBC perhaps we can make breast cancer a chronic disease you can live with similar to success in AIDS treatment.

I will gladly put on my pink boxing gloves again, if we make them mean something that will save my life.

Who’s with me?


Examples of organizations I applaud for making a difference for MBC patients: