2026: It is a lemon.

 I had not blogged in years. Had a mountaintop moment when things were finally coming together and my mental health had really improved and my health has been following, I wanted to hit 2026 head on with all the appointments, putting on my big girl pants. I shared in a recent post celebrating the victories. Little did I expect that a mammogram would show a spot in my left breast and after further testing, I would need a biopsy. So here I sit, my left breast incredibly tender from yesterday's procedure, my mouth sore from an intense dental cleaning, and now a large cut on my face for a skin biopsy from a spot that my dermatologist provider found this morning. It is not easy for my brain to be positive and to focus on all things good and holy, but my mind is asking God why? And my heart hurts thinking of my sweet miracle son that looks at me as if I hung the moon, wanting to mom him until the end of time. 

So here I am, documenting that I may be on one of the greatest mountaintops or entering a new valley, trusting that God is already the Author of my story. And I want to focus on that as much as I can, even in the sleepless nights and in the worry. Ironically, I wrote in my planner months ago in planning for this month: "Go to sleep. God is always awake." It is almost as if God was already planting the seeds in my heart. 

As much as this year has started as a lemon, I have to remember God is at work. And this year, while it is a total lemon, God is in the business of lemonade. 

Answer #1

I am in awe of the incredible support and love already being poured out to me and my family after sharing about my health junk. There is this recurring feeling that so much goodness is in store. 

I am overwhelmed with gratitude to report the first huge answer to prayer! There has been a cancellation in the surgery schedule which has been offered to me for 03.17.2021. That is NEXT WEEK! It is also the 3rd anniversary in which Jack and I got married in the church. What a relief as the anxiety has gotten the best of me in many ways, along with the pain and sleepless nights. The scheduler said it had been a really busy morning but she felt that I needed to be the one to take the date. Through my tears, she knew it was the right call. Answered prayer. 

There is so much more in store. And we now pray that the surgery is a success with absolutely no evidence of disease. I look forward to sharing all of the ways that God is (and has been) orchestrating such amazing details. 

But for now, I am saying a prayer of thanks. A prayer of thanks to and for all of you as well as for the God of details managing every step of the way.

Can't wait to celebrate on the other side!

Not Done Yet.

Celebrating my 14th cancerversary a few weeks back felt incredible as I have had so many great years of health and God's promises since that dreaded day back in January 2007. Ironically, it was right around that date this last January that I started to not feel well. I chalked it up to pandemic life and that I was feeling the weight of the worldly stuff leaning in on me. But the nagging voice continued. I needed answers as to why I was not feeling whole, especially since I had started the year with health and wellness in mind. 

After countless tests and so many medical appointments, all was showing within normal ranges, yet I have felt far from normal. And this last week, my gynecologist ran the blood work again, showing there was a small spike in my CA-125 (my ovarian cancer marker) from the previous test a few weeks back. My number had gone from 18 to 30. Though the spike still showed within normal range, I continued to advocate for myself with my doctors that something was off. Thankfully I have had great medical care and support from my health team along the way. I was sure hoping my instincts we wrong, but I am glad that my worries have been validated by the discovery of what looks to be two cysts on my remaining right ovary in addition to fibroids I already knew I had. 

The oncologist feels the best course of action is a full hysterectomy. We will now await a surgery date and with confidence, we believe that the results will show these are only cysts, with everything contained and easy to remove. We pray that God is using this another as a testament of His mercy and His healing so that I can be the best mom and wife (daughter, sister, friend, etc.) for many more years to come. 

I don't consider it a coincidence that Thomas woke in the middle of the night last night, which these days is a rarity. When I went in to check on him, he was crying asking me to hold him and rock him. I covered us both in his "dirt-dirt" (blanket) and rocked him to sleep. Best hour of my life as I held him close. It is that feeling of peace I pray continues in this next chapter. It is the same way I now approach God as I want Him to hold me close assuring me that all will be ok as I find refuge in His arms. I am beyond grateful that I get to be a mom to Thomas. He is and always be the most treasured gift in my life (along with Jack). I pray for so many more nights that we get to snuggle close. 

At this point, all of the love and prayers are greatly appreciated as we navigate next steps. We also ask that you trust with us that God is at work and that we will get the best news at the conclusion of the surgery. I will use the blog here to keep everyone updated so that we can streamline communication for the time being, but please feel free to text or call which I will answer as I can. Again, we move forward with great hope and confidence that all will be well. 

With love, peace, and hope and so much life ahead. 

.ellen.

Where Are The Bodies Buried?

Do you have those friends that know where the bodies are buried? Of course I don't mean that literally, but who knows all of the tea in your life? I am not talking about the "What do you want to be when you grow up?" kind of conversations. I am talking about the hard stuff. Like "Do you want to be buried or cremated?" and "Who will be guardian of your kids should something happen?" Are you having those hard conversations with anyone? They are uncomfortable, awkward, and often painful, but they need to be had. 

I have had these conversations a lot more recently. There were (and are) a lot of tears. It has been painful, but surprisingly, somewhat therapeutic. It becomes less awkward as we talk and it spurs on all kinds of interesting things to be learned from each other. It is almost like we should have parties at each others' houses to say this is where I keep the checkbook, this is where the passwords are, and this is what  I want when _______ (you fill in the blank). 

It is also a reminder that there is so much value to living in community. As we have all been living in such isolation for the year, that community has become fragmented and distanced. I am guilty of it for sure. I get lost in the land of plastic toys and bubble machines in our backyard, trying to get through the day without worrying if one of us contracted COVID-19 and what our jobs will look like tomorrow. I have been guilty of not leaving voicemails. Preferring a text over a phone call. And email over Zoom. But I have been stopped in my tracks. I am making the phone calls to say the things I mean. I am writing the longer messages to tell people that they are on my heart and mind. I am asking people to come help us care for our son so that we are not always walking in that alone. There is such beauty in the fellowship and also such release from all of the pressures being able to share in those precious moments of life. The other night I asked my mother-in-law and sister-in-law to come help me with Thomas' dinner and night routine. It turned out to be a memory forever etched in my brain as we sat in his room and sang songs. He loved the audience and I loved that he was able to see that there are so many people caring for him and loving him. 

So many times I have found myself saying we need to pause and say what is on our hearts. We need to share where the "bodies are buried." Life is hard enough that we shouldn't be walking it alone. 

Pulling Weeds.

Growing up, we lived one house away from my grandparents. What a gift to my sister and I (and probably to my grandparents too). Every day from kindergarten to my senior year, I went to their house for breakfast every single day. We had assigned days for the menu, Mondays and Wednesdays were for my choice of cereal, Tuesdays and Thursdays were eggs any style and Fridays were for French toast. One thing to note was that my Poppa also fresh squeezed orange juice for me every morning. If you have ever squeezed oranges by hand, you will know that this is a true labor of love. It takes a lot of time and also energy. And yet, every morning, my fresh squeezed juice was waiting. 

There are a lot of memories I have with my grandparents - too many to ever put into words. An incredibly vivid memory of Gran and Pops was their yard. They had a fairly good sized yard by Southern California standards and every inch had been touched by their hands, whether it was my Gran's roses and sweet pea garden or the countless hand laid bricks by my Poppa. He also had a pretty incredible greenhouse which was always fun for hide and seek. 

Poppa's cactus flower

Since we spent so much time at their house, we often found my Poppa out in the yard picking weeds. I used to think it was so cool because he had these little special hand tools for the tough ones, but he mostly used his leathered hands to pull them out. One thing I remember distinctly was the importance of pulling the weeds by the roots to make sure that you pulled it out completely. Without the root, you were just scratching the surface and the weed would grow right back. 

I have been pulling weeds with Thomas in our backyard and these memories of my Poppa come flooding back. Thomas loves to throw all of the weeds into the trash. He is incredibly helpful. But I find myself passing on Poppa's wisdom about getting the weeds at the roots. I am not sure Thomas understands just yet, but I hope to keep finding ways for him to recall these kinds of life lessons. 

What a metaphor for life. We have to get at the root of everything and with all that our world has faced in recent months, we have a lot to root out. But also to continue the work, one root at a time. It is not a job we can just mow right over. It is slow and painstaking, but worth it because you want the grass to grow and thrive. 

Keep pulling the weeds. Get at the root. And teach others to help you. It is better when the work is done together.

Where Has the Time Gone?

It has been way too long since I have sat down to write. I guess that is what happens in the midst of a whirlwind year and then some from getting engaged, to married, and now a pregnancy (!!!). Not to mention a few more address changes (not starting that kind of chapter again!). And I have officially become Catholic. Of course, we have had so many other things mixed in to all of that like a fabulous honeymoon, Stella having two different surgeries, my mother getting married and moving to Idaho, as well as making memories with friends and family. It is evident that we do not believe in dull moments in our household. I suppose I am the one that bring that piece to the relationship as I married the most stable and steady man on the planet.

Poppa Tom

Though there has been much to celebrate, there is also a lot that has been lost. Sadly, my father-in-law has gone to his eternal home in July of 2017 after a brief battle with cancer. That was a very hard goodbye. I will forever consider myself blessed to have married into this family and to get to call him my father-in-law. Just as I think my own dad hung the moon, Poppa Tom definitely made me feel like I had just the right place in the family, marrying his only son. We also sadly lost Jack's cousin, Michael, in the fall, and not even a year after Tom's passing, my uncle Ed has joined them in heaven with his unexpected earthly departure in April.

Our original due date was November 6,
but we are now scheduled
for our c-section on October 15. 

As the days, weeks, and months have flown by, here we are about 6 weeks away from meeting our little boy (Stella is going to be a big sister!). This pregnancy has gone so quickly in many respects, but in other ways (like the lack of sleep, the endless appointments, and the bouts of "morning" sickness), it has inched by. I can't believe that I am going to be a mom! Finding out I was pregnant was one of the greatest moments of my life as I was crying in the bathroom texting my friend Julie the photo of the pee stick in the early morning hours, while Jack was still quite asleep in our room unbeknownst to my bathroom activities. I am sure that my tears were a lovely way to wake up as he didn't know what was going on. One of my favorite moments in this pregnancy besides announcing it and all the fun milestones, I enjoyed the reaction of our doctor when we told him that the pregnancy test was positive. He was quite surprised, saying our news was "remarkable." It was as if we hadn't been planning this whole thing and meeting with him for countless appointments prior to making it actually happen. I guess the odds were somewhat stacked against us, but we know that God is bigger and He did not disappoint. And of course, I believe that God has a sense of humor, considering it no coincidence that our original due date also marks the birthday of my late grandma (Nancy). And then finding out that we were having a boy just days before Jack's birthday and our first anniversary was literal icing on the cake.

My belly has grown to the size of a basketball as I am halfway through week 30, to which I am daily giving thanks for the healthy baby that lives within me (along with a handful of pesky fibroids). He is constantly kickboxing or disco dancing, which is always fun (except when it keeps me up all night). Amazing that half an ovary and a cancer history still allows for modern science and God's hand to give us a somewhat "normal" pregnancy through just one (very long round) of a successful fertility treatment. Other than being diagnosed with anemia and a placenta previa, I am beyond grateful that all has been relatively smooth throughout the last 7 1/2 months and our boy is healthy (with really long legs).

Our miracle baby.

I am also thankful for a husband that has been championing us through all of the stages of pregnancy with his patience and attentiveness. He was an excellent nurse getting us to this point with the daily doses of shots and medications that had to be perfectly administered for us to even get here. He has made sure that my baths are not too hot, that there is ice cream in the freezer, entertained my chili cheese fries craving, and secured me with the right amount of pillows when I try to sleep. It will be exciting to see him enter this chapter as a dad. I know that this boy will be lucky to have him and I am counting my blessings that we get to add this baby to our family.

Throughout the pregnancy, it has been another reminder of the great village we have around us, as if we could ever forget. We have felt the prayers. We have experienced the joys, the love, the generosity, the care, concern, and the uncontainable excitement.  We have been blessed through two very special baby showers given by people so incredibly dear to me / us. We have been showered with so many special gifts, love, and positive energy as we get ready for this baby's arrival. It is a lot like getting married when you feel so much love and support for such a season of life, but this time your love produces a tiny human claiming the hearts of us all.

Though I know we will soon be swimming in poopy diapers, endless feedings, and piles of laundry, I hope to carve out a bit more time to document this next chapter. I don't want to lose sight of the precious memories and moments to come.

Thankful for our growing miracle.


*And for those of you in the midst of infertility, for what it is worth, I see you. It is a gnarly roller coaster of emotions, appointments and decisions. Whatever path you are choosing to take, I support you. I am in your corner. I am praying for you and with you. Loving on you. Hoping for you. And willing to sit through any of the stages with you. I am willing to share our own path for those that may want to reach out for thoughts, advice, tips, and tricks. Again, for what it is all worth as I am not an expert, but a fellow sister that has been on the journey. xo.

One Thing Remains.

And I mean that in more ways than one. Every song this morning was a reminder of God's faithfulness. Count it no coincidence that it was en route to the fertility doctor appointment these songs played. I wish I could say I was in the "go get 'em" mindset, but the weekend was a blip on the radar and though I had a great time with my future mother-in-law and my youngest sister-in-law doing wedding things, I feel like the weekend was overshadowed by a sick puppy and a broken down truck. Mind you said sick puppy woke me every hour last night to go outside to be sick. So when the radio played a series of songs that were pretty much hand-selected for me, I was stopped in my tracks to remember life is beautiful, even in the chaos.

The fertility appointment had a bit of pleasant news as one of the growths is no longer seen on the ultrasound. And the other growth looks to be a bit smaller, which is also a great indication. We are waiting on bloodwork to see if we can start the meds, but at least I am hopeful. Cancer is not spreading today. For that, I have a grateful heart. And that broken truck turned out to only be a dead battery.

And then on my way to work after the appointment, this was the song bringing me to tears.

"One Thing Remains"

Higher than the mountains that I face
Stronger than the power of the grave
Constant through the trial and the change
One thing remains

Your love never fails, it never gives up
It never runs out on me

On and on and on and on it goes
For it overwhelms and satisfies my soul
And I never ever have to be afraid
One thing remains

Your love never fails, it never gives up 
It never runs out on me

Your love

Folks, one thing remains. His love (and only *one smaller* growth).

3,653 Days.

Ten years. It is crazy to think it has been a decade. I need to let that sit for a minute. Today crept up on me. I mean, I knew the day was coming, but I think I was desperately trying to ignore it. It is hard to admit or even accept that 10 years ago today, I was diagnosed with Stage III Ovarian Cancer, and just a few weeks shy of the huge decade milestone (the day after we got engaged actually), I have learned that the jerk is back. My remaining ovary has joined the cancer party and got itself a tumor and has decided to party it up in there. Jerk.

So as we are in the midst of engagement bliss (no, seriously--this is such a great chapter), we are also facing some serious decision making for our future family. As much as we would love new dishes, towels and pots and pans, can we register for new ovaries? Eggs? Can that please be a thing? It is a strange dichotomy to be planning a wedding but also undergoing fertility treatments. I am trying to keep it kind of out of site, out of mind, but the fridge full of medications is not easy to ignore. Our hopes are to harvest my remaining eggs before having my remaining ovary removed, which also means surgery before the wedding. Not ideal, but it is the best plan of action as of now.

In reflecting on the past decade, I am thankful for all of you that have lent support in these years. For those that sported teal proudly on this day to show your love and to also bring awareness to this silent beast. Each year has been a mixed bag of emotions. Early on in this battle, my support system was small and sporadic. I spent many days (and months) in a fog, feeling ashamed for a diagnosis in which I had zero control. Today, I am fighting my battle with an army. I am blessed by those that have been added to my life to make this journey a joy. I am not fighting this battle alone or behind closed doors. I get to warrior on with battle scars to show that I am a survivor. This jerk doesn't get to win.

We are getting married in April (eeeeeeek!). I get to live a dream. I have the most amazing partner to share life. I will wear my wedding dress even if I am fresh from surgery and my body is not the ideal shape I had hoped for such a day. Who cares? Instead, I am going to focus on God's blessings, all of the good vibes, light, and the love around us. I get to dance with my favorite human surrounded by my village of people that I love and adore. I can't wait.

I am sure that there will be some rough roads ahead with this pending fertility process (while wedding planning). But joys. I will count it all joy.

And to you cancer, I hate you. Your party is almost over. I will conquer it so that a new party can begin.

xo.

Rest Required.

So I am now in the cancer recovery zone from my surgery and barrage of doctor appointments. With an unexpected turn of being put on disability, I have been forced to rest from Dr. K for a few weeks. With skyrocketing blood pressure and the reopening of two incisions, I am now taking in the doctor's orders and find myself now at home most days, watching Netflix and writing, but also pouring my energies into resurrecting my need to create, draw, and paint. Alas, the birth of Paper Velveteen.

On a few attempts, I have tried to pursue my dreams to be an illustrator and children's author, but it always seemed as though life got in the way. Though that dream has evolved some, I am allowing my brush to do work once again. My new space has also been inspiring to do so along with the undivided time to devote. My work desk sits under two windows which gives so much natural light. As well, I find myself having dreams of new ideas, which is welcomed after weeks of restless sleep due to incisions, stress, and other such worries. (Still feels strange though not being in the office each day.)


It feels good to be back in my creative element. To listen to the still, small voice telling me that I can do this. That I can create something from nothing. That dreams come true with some ingenuity and hard work. And they aren't to be ignored.

So with that being said, I am in need of prayer as there are still some changes that need to be made. Some healing that is still underway. And a small dream starting to ignite into something quite undefined at this point.

Looking forward to this next chapter once again. After all, isn't this to be the year of adventure?!

p.s. If you are not yet following, give @papervelveteen some love. And please, tell your friends! There is more to come!

{The epic logo of Paper Velveteen was designed by the one and only @hat_daddy. Thanks, homie.}

My Hallelujah Shoes.

January 28, 2016: Hallelujah shoes.

I do declare that these are my hallelujah shoes. In all that has been happening, I have intentionally been taking shoe photos, whether in the doctor's office, waiting for blood work, walking Stella, or just running an errand. Because no matter what is going on, I am going to find ways to celebrate by documenting the shoes I wear on that particular day or moment. I commemorate with one thing that I can control in all of this...my choice of shoes. I can't control the outcome, but I can control how I react (and of course, what shoes I wear). Bear with the idea that this is my journey. This is my story. And these are my hallelujah shoes.

Yesterday gave plenty of reason for a hallelujah. At the eleventh hour, during my pre-op madness, my pathology report had come in. Coincidence? I think not. And Dr. L asked me to wait so we could discuss. I didn't have the nerve to tell him I was trying to rush out as I didn't really want to hear the news and I was trying to squeeze in my EKG before work. Oy vei.

But I waited. And in he came with a smirk on his face (and what I think was a tear in his eye). He said,  "I don't know what you did, kid, but there is no trace of cancer here." NO. TRACE. OF. CANCER. After 3 different doctors were all preparing and assuming for this to be breast cancer (especially with my health history of already being a Stage III survivor and a likely candidate of carrying the BRCA gene), I was preparing for the best outcomes as it all appeared to be in early stages, but...there is NO. TRACE. OF CANCER. I had an army of people praying over me. This is God's answer. I didn't have to do anything, Dr. L, but trust and hope.

Even Dr. K's office called to tell me "Congratulations" as they had gotten word that my pathology showed no trace of cancer. Lumpectomy = cancelled. So Monday, I will have only one cancer surgery rather than two. Crazy to celebrate such things, but I am thankful that my recovery will be half of what I was expecting. (Plus, I wasn't sure I was mentally ready to have a hat trick on cancer.)

As I have to go under for this surgery, prayer appreciated for a routine procedure and no issues with my heart as that was a concern in my last surgery. I have two weeks to lay low until the wounds are healed up.

There is joy in the journey. In whatever your situation, put on your hallelujah shoes, people.

The J Collection.

xoxoxo for the well wishes.

It is no secret that somehow along the way, I have collected a handful of J's, many of which I hold near and dear. And two of my favorite J's sent some gorgeous flowers to my house in well wishes. Note, the flowers were all in shades of orange, which I know was purposeful as they coordinate with the city in which I now live. **insert fluttering heart for that attention to detail**

I am ready to get this chapter underway. I have come to terms that I have cancer, yet again. The tiresome days are starting to wear as we are in the nitty gritty days of moving as well as the overall feeling of just knowing what is to come. I am 100% ready to kick this thing. As well, I am reveling in the creativity that is starting to flow. Crisis has a way of awakening the sleeping giants. And let me tell you, this cancer journey (times 3) is a story in the making.

January 30 will mark Cancer-versary #9, marking another year to wear teal. If you choose to join in on the teal on that day, please use #fortheloveofovaries on your social media and tag me in any posts as I am still making my yearly collage to mark the day of life and celebration, as well as bring awareness to ovarian cancer fighters and survivors.

xoxoxo.
.ellen.

Sidenote: I am forever grateful for the outpouring of love, calls, visits, offers to help. As there are moments that this is all quite overwhelming, please forgive me if my response time is delayed slightly as I am still working full time until surgery, in the midst of moving, and scheduling a large handful or pre-op and post-op appointments as well as preparing for the few weeks out of the office.

More Ice Cream.

I am almost positive I heard Dr. K tell me to celebrate with ice cream and a Powerball ticket after my appointment yesterday. Ok, so maybe it was just to buy a lottery ticket as I am due for some good luck, but ice cream was still needed. And I may or may not blame the fact that my sister doesn't have Rite-Aid/Thrifty ice cream in Idaho, she *needed* to have a big fat scoop (or two) of chocolate malted crunch with me. It has been really fun having her in town. Definitely was good for my spirits (but not for my waistline).

I can't lie that today feels like a new day after a good night of rest (finally) and after meeting my new oncologist. Dr. K is gifted in all of the right areas, specializing in breast cancer and melanoma. Can't go wrong that she is also a UCLA grad. (of course, divine intervention) Dr. K has given a very clear action plan, so now it just feels like we need to put it in place. And until that plan takes action, I can sleep that much better knowing we've got this.

Diagnosis is definitely melanoma. And as cancer is cancer, she said we are looking at a curable situation as we are still in early stages (praise be). And based on pathology, we are assuming breast cancer as well, but again, at an early stage that can be cured with a lumpectomy. Thankfully, Dr. K can perform both surgeries so I only have to go under once. (I swear I will eventually conquer my fear of needles.)

Dr. K has already been in conversation with Dr. L to make sure there is a good knowledge of my health history. Their conversation was actually quite tender as Dr. L expressed his concern for wanting to make sure that I am ok and Dr. K telling him she has a genuine heart for me. You really couldn't ask for doctors with any better bedside than these two.

Surgery is set for February 1. I will be out for a few weeks to recover if all goes as planned. As I have a few weeks from surgery, this will give time to get pre-op done as well as finish moving. (yes, I am moving again.) Timing will be good for things on the work front as well as getting Stella adjusted to our new house to avoid a pee monster situation. And as I will be adjusting in the new house, I will have a chance to get settled since I will not be allowed to leave the house much after surgery to avoid potential infections.

There will be a handful of co-pays to handle, but should be manageable and thankfully, I have insurance. I will need help doing life for a bit, but I have good people and family around me that will make this so easy. And it is a good excuse to hang out with folks as life often gets in the way. Plus, I have Jack. And he comes with one heck of an army ready to help.

All to say, I feel very fortunate to have such an amazing doctor, but also to feel such love and support from everyone. It is another one of those chapters that reminds me of God's faithfulness. I am feeling such peace in what should once again be a time of incredible fear.

Cancer, thank you. We are going to kick you this round too.

2016: The Year of Adventure.

I had no idea when the year started with a pending motto, that my declaration for 2016 to be The Year of Adventure that it would mean that my adventure would begin with some major unexpected news.

Almost to the date of my January 30, ovarian cancer-versary (the diagnosis date of my Stage III ovarian cancer), that I would once again be marking a new cancer-versary date on my calendar: January 6, 2016--Melanoma. I don't know if I am even ready to claim it, but I am now battling skin cancer. This is going to be a roller coaster of new emotions and battles. A bit of background to all of this...I had not been feeling well and I had taken a bit of a sabbatical from doctor visits as it gets tiring being their pin cushion. I got my new insurance underway and made the trek to my childhood doctor, Dr. Longnecker. He is good. He knows my family, my health history, and I trust him. Little did I know that the visit would uncover many looming medical conditions.

"Your life is an occasion. Rise to it."

I am not yet ready to go in to detail of all of it, but the main concerns focus around the confirmed melanoma diagnosis and pending tests for breast cancer. If I am a cat with nine lives, I am looking at borrowing a few as I am running out.

Where this all stands...I have an emergency appointment with a melanoma specialist on Tuesday, January 12. Surgery is most likely to happen then to see if we can clear the margins. I am going to have my entourage with me to help me hear the important details at the appointment.

What I have learned in this thus far...I have the most amazing support system in place. Jack is my superhero. I am forever grateful that God has blessed me with the very best man to be my partner in all of this. Family has rallied around in love. I have friends that are my prayer warriors, cheerleaders, partners, and advocates. I work with incredible people that are holding me up in love, prayer, support, and positive energy.

It is no question that once again, God has my attention. That just when I felt like I was on the mountain top, I find myself in a new valley. I have to believe that this will be another miraculous victory. And I also have to believe that it is just another chapter in my story. It won't end here. I am coming back with a vengeance and ready to chase new dreams after we tackle this big bump in the road. Though it may not be the adventure we had planned, we are taking it on to be the best adventure yet.

Prayers welcome. Medical updates to come...

Whole30. Day 1.

This is the start of all things madness. I am talking real madness (like REEEAAAL). My friend Sarah and I are embarking in the craziness called Whole30. And today martked Day 1.

What is Whole30, you may ask? It is eating real food for 30 days. No sugar. No carbs. No fun. Just kidding. It is fun. So far. But I have been advised that by Day 4 or 5, I will want to kill all things. That'll be fun.

Whole30 is a reset to the metabolism. It is definitely a diet of discipline. It is eating in the manner that God created. For us to treat our bodies like the temples they are, but also to ditch the nonsense preservatives and fillers that destroy our body. As a cancer survivor, it is all the more reason to consider every bit of food I eat so that my body is operating at its best. In the next 30 days, I will eat plenty of eggs, lots of protein, and the fridge is filled with color. I love it.

I am encouraged by the way Whole30 friends are feeling (and looking). So, as life is about developing better patterns and habits, here starts one of healthy eating. Real food. Real life. Real.