The Desert

We used to get up on Sunday mornings and laugh like crazy. My dad would put on his records and teach me how to dance. I would stand on his feet as he did all of the dances he knew from when he was younger. He's a child of the 50s and 60s. He grew up going to sock hops and dances when people actually danced together, in each others arms.  What an amazing thing to have been a part of. I can't help but think about what we (who didn't have these experiences) missed out on. There was an elegance about flirtation and a pride about being on someone's arm. There was simplicity about happiness that doesn't really exist today. And I still see all of it in my father's eyes, in his actions, and how he treats my mother. It's as if I miss the things that I was never able to experience.

My friend contacted me about an gift she had gotten for me. I was to have an hour long private dance lesson for 2 from Julianne and Derek Hough with tickets to their show afterwards at the Fox theater. Two incredibly talented and beautiful people from Dancing With the Stars. My love for dancing and music started with my dad. So there was no other choice than to have my father join me in this. We were going dancing. When we got to the Fox, we were escorted to a rehearsal space. Within minutes they walked in.  They had smiles on their faces and were warm and welcoming.  After speaking for a few moments, Derek held his hand out to me, smiled, and said, "come with me." For some reason he made me feel like a giggling teenager. He began teaching me a salsa routine. I hadn't had this kind of fun in ages! Over the next 40 minutes we danced and I learned. We then took video of my father with Julianne then Derek with me. As soon as Derek and I finished dancing, I lost my breath and collapsed into a chair. My body was failing me.  It was as if it wanted to remind me of what I had forgotten in the last 40 minutes - I was still sick. I then reluctantly explained to Derek that I've been going through chemotherapy and that's why I was acting this way. I was hoping silently that this wouldn't happen, but I wasn't surprised that it did. He and Julianne were incredibly gracious. They never, for even a moment, acted as if they felt sorry for me. Which I was so grateful for.  They spoke to me with respect, they asked questions and it didn't take long for my father to whip out the chemo costume pictures. To which they laughed and encouraged me. They were amazing. After our hour was up,  they took us to sound check showed us the set, and we said our goodbyes. We went back later to watch their show.  It was really incredible. Dad had the time of his life!

I was enjoying the break from everything I've been going through. It was nice to know that I could go for four weeks without chemo. I vowed to enjoy every moment that was afforded me. And my next stop was the desert.

Joshua Tree

The Desert is a harsh environment. It’s hot, dry, dusty and drains your energy. Temperatures soar during the day and can drop 30 degrees or more at night. It's filled with cacti and harsh plants, incredible animals like road runners, snakes, lizards, and hummingbirds.  Its one thing to hear or read about it, it's a completely different thing to experience it. Andy had brought me out for his birthday to his property in the Yucca Valley, just 40 minutes outside of Palm Springs. I had never been anywhere like it. Andy had taken this wild place and turned it into his own magic landscape. The next 4 days were filled with fun and wonderful people. Old friends and new. All of them kind and considerate. Wild and creative. It was the first time I would see my friend Sarah since her breast cancer diagnosis. As the time got closer that she would arrive, I got more and more anxious. Though we had been talking to each other as we endured our fate, seeing each other was so very different. When we finally did, it was happy. I thought I would have to hold back tears, but it was the exact opposite. It was the best hug ever. I didn't realize how much I needed to see her, to talk with her, and just feel truly understood. We did that for each other and it was so incredible to feel that sort of comfort. Finally. After the party was over, and the place got quiet, I had a couple days to myself. The first day I sat by the pool and talked with whoever was around. The next day I went by myself to Joshua Tree. It was

incredibly alien and beautiful. I lost myself in an unknown, unspoiled terrain to appreciate the gifts that our earth gave us. But it felt like this gift was only for me that day. And I was truly grateful.

I left the next day. So full of love from everyone and everything I'd experienced. I thanked Andy and Chris for taking such care of me. Having amazing friends are indubitably the happiness that fills our hearts. And I am overflowing.

Horseshoe Bend

I flew into Phoenix to visit my brother and nieces. My older niece, Sonya, was graduating high school. I can't explain the pride I have in both these girls. Having never had children of my own, they are the closest thing I've got to it. And I love them dearly. As I sat at Sonya' s graduation with my brother and other niece Vika, I couldn't help but think that this landmark day for her was so significant. Most importantly for her, but to know that I had made it this far to be able to see this happen for her. That I was still alive. I cried with pride for her, love for my family, and happiness for the life I was still living.

The next day my brother and I left for 3 days that he had planned for us. We went to the most beautiful places. Sedona, the Grand Canyon North rim, Horseshoe Bend, White Pocket, Vermilion Cliffs, and a few other spots on the way. It was beautiful. The kind of places that make you feel your mortality. Appreciate the breathtaking earth. And know that all of this was here before you and will be there long after we're gone. It was spectacular. These places made me realize that I am just a visitor here. My life, though important to me, is insignificant to the big picture. There is more in this world to appreciate and admire. The insane uniqueness of this incredible planet has its rhythms, and if you look for it, it will find you as you find it. It all fits into this world, then our world, and finally my world. As small as it is. Perspective teaches us to think broadly. The more I see, experience, and appreciate, the more I know that everything is going to be alright. This time I spend with my family makes me realize how hard it is to lose the life I've known.  So I have fortified my resolve to survive and somehow find a new life after this.

Grand Canyon

When I got home, it was straight back to chemo. It is just as hard as I remember it. But I felt fortified when I got back. Filled full of life and memories.  And strength of spirit to face it all again. The day after, I went in to see Dr. El Reyes and he gave me some possible news. He had met with the tumor board about my case. The tumor board is the place where the brilliant minds that treat cancer at Winship discuss certain cases. After some discussion, they came up with a 70% yes on surgery to remove part of my infested liver along with gamma knife (a type of radiation) to treat the remaining liver. It's also a possibility that they will remove the tumor in my colon at the same time. The remaining lesions in my lungs and spine would be treated with a maintenance chemo. He assured me that my liver was the biggest issue at this point, the treatment after surgery would be easier, and I could take breaks more often. They just need to see an MRI to make a final decision. I only need to wait a few more days to find out. It's so jarring to hear this. On one hand, I'm excited at the prospect of my treatment getting easier after surgery. On the other hand, this is major surgery. Six weeks without chemo to prep my body, then surgery, about five days in hospital recovery, then 4-6 weeks recovery at home. The scars, the drains, the pain. It will be two months of building myself up again. I'm nervous and hopeful at the same time. But I can handle it. I'll do it if it's at all a possibility.

CHEMO. 911!

This has always been me. The strong emotion. The faith I have in people. The love for having fun. The beauty I see in the world.  The strength I rely upon. My core hasn't changed. But how I express myself has. I'm still the same person, but quieter, louder, softer and harder. I appreciate more and I love bigger, cry harder, feel more deeply. And I am perceived so much stranger than I ever have been. It's bizarre to see how people look at me now. It's with a softness. It's beautiful. I can look at someone and feel love and support. I can see that they are all these same things in different incarnations.  We as people are beautiful and caring. Strong and filled with love and life. And so ready to share it with those that will have it.  I am so fortunate to have those in my life that are so incredible. I'm alive with wonder and humility that I have the honor of gazing upon this in people who unselfishly share this part of themselves with me. There's a deep unspoken connection with these people. You all know who you are. Those of you reading. Those of you who take the time to say hello, to give a hug, to wish me well, and help me experience living. You fill my heart every day. I feel the incredible energy you put out there for me. You heal me. You have my gratitude and love. For even in the harshest conditions, there is life and beauty. Just like the desert.

“It’s not about the cards you’re dealt, but how you play the hand”  ~ Randy Pausch, The Last Lecture