Thriving Past Cancer: Marine's Journey

We all have a back story.  It's why we say what we say and do what we do.  It's the foundation on which our lives are constructed. Some of the foundation is constructed on sand, others on mud, and yet others on the rockiest of terrain. When we invite a person into our lives, we rarely reveal the foundation. We never delve into our pasts and our conversations hover somewhere around weather, movies, and other trivial topics.  I'm quite good at this, and this is what hit me when I sat in church this last Sunday, listening to the pastor talk about people's "back stories" and how they impact every single moment of our lives, behaviors, and actions.  Although I've shared my "back story" with the world, cancer's ravaging effects cripple me, almost as if there's termites trying to gnaw at the timber house that stands upon it. It leads me to doubt myself, my thoughts, actions, and decisions. As many of you know, I went back to work a couple

I was at a Bridal Shower this weekend.  My oldest female cousin planned the shower for her daughter (my niece). She was stunning, resembling a Hollywood Movie Star from the 1940s.  Her long golden locks fell to her waist as she offered her guests genuine love and an afternoon of fun. I watched her dance and glide across the room, remembering days long gone, when she was a baby we all drooled over.  She was the first amongst us and was loved pricelessly. Now, 27 years later, she stood before us a woman, preparing to take on new adventures and challenges.I felt so blessed to witness "her happy ending" beginning to blossom on Sunday and yet I felt a deep fear that it would be one of the last "happy endings" I'd witness or experience.   It hit me then, how innocent we are until time and experience make us aware of truth. I don't think I knew what "cancer" was until my twenties, let alone the need to monitor a patient long after the treatment ends. Ev

I am happy to say that I celebrated my 40th birthday two days ago.  I awaited it eagerly and when I awoke that morning, I exclaimed, "I made it! I made it to 40!" I never thought it would mean as much as it did, but it does, just as each morning is a celebration of life and a blessed celebration all its own. I don't know what to expect anymore. Each day is different and sometimes, the most magical of things come to pass without any warning. Had a day like this recently and I was reminded by it the night of my birthday when CJ (the individual I talk about below) texted me to wish me a Happy Birthday. I was taken aback by that text for reasons that are too long to explain here. But what I would like to explain today is how CJ entered my life two weeks ago. One of my best friends, an animation editor who works in Burbank, CA, asked me recently if I'd be willing to help a friend of his with a grant. Why did he reach out to me with this request? Well, for starters, h

Treatment-done! No tri-weekly chemo infusions. No oral pills. No nausea, vomiting, or fatigue! This is this summer's highlights. On the last day of my chemo infusion, I asked the oncologist, "What do I do now?"  It wasn't happiness I was feeling, it was fear. Regardless of the fact that the end of the treatment was nearing, I feared that without the continuous bombardment of drugs and poisons in my body, I would always be wondering whether it came back and filled my body again with carcinogens. My oncologist was amazingly patient and caring. She leaned in and said, "Live!" Shocked, I met her eyes and asked, "How? How exactly do I do that?" She matter of factly said, "You go outside, you travel, you spend time with the people you want to spend time with, you go to work, you live!" It has taken me over a month to grasp and wrestle with her words. I've never been afraid of anything, never feared life or death, speed or

My dad died six years ago this week. We knew he was dying. It wasn't a surprise.  My husband and I drove up to Grass Valley so that our little one's didn't have to witness it. My father-in-law drove me down the very next day so that I could say goodbye before it was too late. I can't help but dream about and miss him, especially when August draws near. He was a strong man, filled with heart, and eager to help anybody and everybody. He had a quirky sense of humor and the most beautiful of voices. My relationship with my brother and his family is evidence enough of the endless devotion and love he shared with us. He spent thirty-three years in the states working non-stop to create a foundation that would outlive him. What bothers me about his death is the fact that he went way before his time. We live and work and follow the norms, we expect to live long enough to see our kids grow up, get married, have kids, become grandparents, and finally retire and enjoy the frui