The One in Which I Talk About Thanksgiving 2014, Family, and a Tiny, Little Bit About What Comes Next

Thanksgiving weekend is nearly over, and it was everything I thought it would be and more. Emotional, Comforting, Inspiring, Exhausting...

It was the same recipe in some respects as every other year: WINE, FOOD, FAMILY & FRIENDS!

WINE: Oh, did it mention the wine? We own a winery, after all. I mean, our Thanksgiving is always AT the winery!  So, many of the guests enjoyed a glass ....or three or more....of some very good stuff.

But since I'm a total teetotaler these days, the most I can do is smell the wines.

Side bar: Sorry, but I had to google that shit and find out why people are called teetotalers. I thought it was TEAtotaler because they mostly only drink tea (which is true in my case), but it's actually TEEtotaler, and involved a stuttering Englishman who promoted abstinence (not to be confused with absinthe) in the 1800's.

I read it on the interwebs, so it must be true....Bon Appetit Article

FOOD: There was sooooo much food! And I'm sure it was delicious! We do a potluck every year so we get a smattering of everyone''s favorite Thanksgiving dishes. But with the chemo/radiation and the mix of other medications that I take, let's just say, "food is not really my thang".  P.S. This is NOT a weight loss plan that I would endorse. You don't even have to bother reading the fine print.

FAMILY & FRIENDS: We pared down our guest list considerably because Thanksgiving landed at the end of my 4th week of treatments, and we really had no idea what I would be "up to".  But there was no question that Thanksgiving at the Winery was happening. It's Steven's favorite day of the year. And what's better than getting together with the ones you love? (Hey, you! Mr. Literal! That was a rhetorical question.)

We're missing Eric Coffey in this picture, but we'll fix it later with a little photoshopping.

We had the ole' familiar gang plus some family that came from far away especially this year. I am really, really not being bitter or cynical at all. I sincerely mean that. I was so happy to have everyone there!

But there is nothing like a potentially fatal disease to change people's holiday plans. I am so early in the diagnosis and treatment process that there is a whiff of, "Maybe she won't be alive next year," mixed in with aromas of turkey and sweet potatoes. I guess it would be stupid not to think of that at least a little.  I have let those thoughts float through my head as well - and right back out.

I have two things to say about that:
1) Anyone of us might be gone by Thanksgiving 2015. (Thank you for your uplifting insight, Captain Obvious!)
2) I look at things through my own specific lens. I do most things with purpose, and before I do them, I think:

It is productive?
What is your desired outcome? Will what you are doing now help you get there?

[FYI - This isn't some new thing that I've developed after my diagnosis. This has been my approach to life for a very, very long time. I would even dare to say that this is a "defining characteristic" for me.]

So, I ask myself, "It is productive to think/dwell on the fact that I might not be here next year?" What is my desired outcome? To live a fucking long time. Like decades. Another half century would be really good! Does focusing on the fact that I might die far sooner than that help me in my desired outcome? No, in fact, I would argue that it is extremely counter-productive. 

So, I spent my time this Thanksgiving enjoying the place and the people and the moments. It was a gorgeous autumn day in the Bay Area. ~70 degrees and sunny. Groups spent a lot of time out on the patio drinking wine, eating cheese, and admiring the foliage on the vines.  Some people congregated in the kitchen as the finishing touches were put on dishes. And we all gathered in the barrel room for the feast and had the traditional go-around-the-table-and-say-what-we're-thankful-for tradition. (We are aware of how much the younger generation hates this, but make them do it anyway. Either because we're cruel, or someday they might thank us. I'll let you decide. Often they have the most insightful things to say anyway.)

I insisted on going first, bucking tradition, because I was afraid I was going to forget what I wanted to say (#chemobrain). Of course, I wanted to express my gratitude to all my family and friends, near and far, who have supported us through this shitty, shitty time. If you weren't there, here is a recap: I said, "THANK YOU!"

But I also wanted to specifically address my children publicly. I talk about Schmoopy AKA the Bald Hottie a lot, but I don't talk about my kids very often on this blog. Not because I don't think about them ALL THE TIME, but my feelings are so raw and deep. And I know that they are so strong in front of me to not add to my stress/burden, but this is a shitty, shitty time for them, too. I know that.

I don't know how we ended up lined up like this - clearly, it's not in height order because I'm the shortest by far...

I am so grateful to have them in my lives. But I am also extremely grateful that they have each other in their lives. I have never seen a sibling group that was so supportive and loving and strong. I asked them if they have a name for their group. "Mirassou Siblings" doesn't do them justice. Then again, they aren't nearly as hokey as their Mother Fuckin' Brain Cancer Fighting Ninja Warrior (#mfbcfnw) mom. Whatever! They need a hashtag at least, though, right?And I am so grateful that I had the good sense to pick a man for their father who is the rock that we cling to right now. Although shaving his head has made him slipperier.

P.S. You will undoubtedly see a shift in my blog focus as I finish this chemo/radiation treatment cycle. (2 weeks to go! Woot!!) I am starting to think about the "after initial treatment" part of my life. I'm actively thinking about the "Now what?" and making plans. Which is a big ball of Excitement and Anxiety rolled up in a ball we call LIFE. Stay Tuned!

The One in Which I Talk About the Goodness in the World...and the Essentials

Yesterday, Steven and I were taking our (almost) daily walk up and around Communications Hill. It was chilly (by California standards), and I was bundled in my scarf and Steven was protecting his bald head (brrrr!) with a beanie, but we were still holding hands the whole way - all the way up and all the way down the 3 mile trek, as we always do.

As we reached the ~1 mile mark, he turned me and said, "This is the best part of my day, just walking here with you." And I said, "Me, too. Me, too." and he kissed my hand. With a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, I concentrated on the feel of his hand in mine, his lips on my fingers, and the sound of the crunchy autumn leaves under our feet.

Me, too. Me, too.

We were at one of the last traffic lights, and I could hear from the chime in his pocket that Steven had received a text. He's been trying to simplify his life - pare down to the essentials. Part of his strategy is to have stricter control about when he does and does not check his texts, emails, notifications, etc., so he was tempted to let it go. I admire that. But with Thanksgiving quickly approaching and the coordinations for all the family travel, etc., I urged him to stop and check it. Even in the glare of the sun, I could see by his expression that it was not good. And then he shared with me:

He has a core group of guy friends that dedicate twice a year to get together. They geek out about food, wine, life, and just enjoy each other's company. One of these men's son (only 16 years old) had passed away suddenly. Neither of us had ever met this boy, but that didn't matter. It could have been anybody's son or daughter...anyone's tragic loss. The rest of the walk home was marked by mostly stunned silence as we both tried to process what we had just learned.

We didn't have very much time when we got home to prepare to leave for my radiation treatment, but one of things that I always do is make a new paper ninja star and write on it  - things to carry me through the experience. It seems like a silly ritual, but it helps me focus and remain calm during the treatments.  It's the MIND/SPIRIT part of my holistic approach to recovery & survival.

We were so stretched for time, though, that I had to grab the paper, pen, and scissors, and create it in the car on the way to the radiology office. But I knew just what I had to do:

Never forget the most essential: LIFE. 

During my treatment, I clutched that ninja star across my chest and visualized our morning walk, hand in hand, and the feel of Steven's lips on my fingers and the sound of the crunchy leaves.

When we got home from my treatment, I received a text from a coworker/friend. (Okay, if you must know, he was like my "work husband" for ~9 years. Love you & miss you, Todd! <3) ... He had a package to deliver to me after school.

It turned out to be a notebook filled with letters and notes from some of my former students. It was passed around the local high school, so these were kids from my class of 2009-2011 who wrote me messages. Letters and notes filled with compassion, encouragement, and hope...and some misspellings (for which I accept no responsibility!) #freepass

It was so overwhelming! I wish I could post every one of them on here. I am so touched. I think I will write about this book in more detail later. These kids deserve it. I just wanted you to have some small feeling of what an amazing gift this was for me. Any teacher would understand. It's one of those jobs where you're never really sure what kind of an impact you've had.

I curled up in my bed for a little nap and cried as I read...good tears  - of joy and gratitude.

and then...
(I know! Can you imagine?)
and then...

Steven brought home a package that was shipped to the winery for me. It was an unassuming white box, but when I opened it, this what I found, folded lovingly inside:

It is toasty warm and Tess-approved.

It is this beautiful crocheted blanket from Project Chemo Crochet. [One of the secrets that no one tells you about being a Cancer Fighting Ninja Warrior is that you are almost always cold because of the treatments and medications.] Please click on the link to learn more about this amazing project. I think I need to learn how to crochet, so I can pay it forward...

The letter inside said:

"...We know that there might be times during this journey when you might feel cold, alone, tired, and scared. Our hope is that during those times you can feel our arms wrapping you with the love that went into every stitch.

Cancer's a bitch, that's why we stitch. Stay strong!" 

The thought of people from all over the U.S. and Canada stitching these squares.. <more good tears>
I feel your love!

I don't know why terrible things happen to people in this world, and I'm so sorry if you are going through something tragic right now.

So, today, it felt right for me to acknowledge:
I alive,
and I'm so, so grateful for all the good there is in this world.

Since I almost certainly won't "see" you until Friday, I want to wish you a day filled with friends, family, love, and LIFE.

P.S. I cry at the littlest things now, so I can't even begin to imagine how much of a blubbering idiot I will be when I have my whole family together. But they will be good tears!

The One in Which I (Loosely) Explain Ninja Warriors and Why I Think I'm Eligible

Thanksgiving Day is nearly upon us, and I know many people are writing with excitement about the upcoming debauchery celebrations of gratitude. I'm going to buck the trend right now because:
1) In 3 more days, I'll surrounded by some of my closest people in the whole world, and if I start thinking about right now, I'll probably cry for 96 hours straight. And I know there'll be enough tears between us all on Thursday to end the drought in CA. (Hey, somebody get on that! I came up with a brilliant plan to end the drought!)

and

2) I woke up with something else on my mind, and that's how these blog posts originate.  It's a very complicated process. You see...I think about something, and I think about it some more, and then I start writing.

(Hint: It's not complicated at all.)

Lately, I've been thinking about Ninja Warriors. For some reason, I zeroed in on that image early on in my cancer fight and have stuck with it, but truth be told....I really didn't know very much about them!  And as a self-professed history geek, that's not acceptable. Who were the original Ninja Warriors, and does it even make sense to call myself a MFBCFNW?

Okay,  just to clarify, I'm talking straight up Ninja Warriors - not Ninja Turtles or Power Rangers or any of the other video game/comic NOT REAL characters out there. (Not that there's anything wrong with that, but we're not talking about Comic-Con here.) And I don't even mean American Ninja Warriors...Although they are real and exceptionally badass.  Side note: If you are luddite and haven't seen this video clip of the first Female American Ninja Warrior to qualify for the National finals, you are REQUIRED to watch this video clip at some point. You can wait and come back to it, but trust me. She is a badass athlete!

I knew that Ninja Warriors were not Super Heroes. And I knew that they really had no Super Powers. (So, I was on the right track.) I did some research on real Ninja Warriors. There is a LOT that I'm leaving out....and forgive me if I get some facts not exactly right! #freepass! (Like I always say, "Google That Shit!" if you want to know more!)

But just a little backstory for you non-history geeks who aren't gonna google shit: References to Japanese Ninja Warriors date back a 1,000 years, although evidence suggests that they didn't officially start to train them until the ~15th century. The ninjas were real people, fighting real wars, but they were different from the samurai because samurai conducted themselves by a strict set of rules and standards of honor. Ninjas specialized in covert operations and mercenary tactics and general badass-ery. (That last word might not be a real word...but it should be.)

But I want to focus on a few things that make me feel like I am qualified to call myself - and anyone who has/is battling cancer - a Ninja Warrior.

• Ninja Warriors are stealthy. The legend persists that ninjas wore all black clothes including a black mask. But Ninjas would really wear whatever they had to in order to sneak up on their enemy. Actually, mostly they wore navy blue because it didn't contrast so starkly with moonlight. True story. Cancer patients also have to adapt their attire to prepare for their fight.

So, yoga pants and track jackets are a good choice.

Hospital gowns and bandanas are even sneakier.

It's important for the technicians to have easy access to whatever they need to administer your treatment. In my case, that means nothing obstructing my head or neck, so they can easily clip on the Mask of Horror. I don't, however, have to wear a gown, so yoga pants rock for me!

Those cancer cells would never expect you to be as BADASS as you really are in those outfits!

• Ninja Warriors did not always work alone. They were trained in carrying each other on their backs or creating a human wall to lift one up to greater heights. Cancer patients have a team of doctors, nurses, technicians, family, and friends fighting along with them. But now we're getting into Thursday's theme, and I don't want to start crying now. So, I'll leave it at this: In the Ninja Warrior world - NO ONE FIGHTS ALONE! 

• Ninja Warriors used a wide array of tools to reach their goals. While fighting cancer, whether it's chemotherapy, radiation, exercise, nutrition...cancer patients know we have things to help us reach our ultimate goal. Let's hear a: "Woot!" for modern medicine...and a return to common sense healthy habits like avoiding toxic chemicals in your home and food!

• In the movies, t.v. shows, and computer games, Ninja Warriors mostly rely on their physical strength. But in reality, Ninjas greatly valued another key to success: their mind.

Heishichiro Okuse — perhaps the foremost authority on ninjutsu and the author of four books — wrote his last work on the subject, Hidden Ninjutsu: The Secret Thoughts and Strategies of the Ninja. According to him, they regarded nothing as impossible and scientifically applied brain power to every problem they encountered. He regards the nonphysical aspects of ninjutsu as the key to a successful career.

I have taken to making paper ninja stars, which can't do much physical damage except if you throw one of them into someone's eye. (Kiddies, in case this is not clear: I'm specifically saying NOT to do that!) In that case, they would really hurt. OWIE! My ninja stars represent things and people that I rely on to help me - even though they can not physically be there at the moment.

They're a mental reminder of all that I have around & within me,
and I hold them close to my heart during all my radiation treatments.

I guess I first believed I needed to be a Ninja Warrior because Brain Cancer is the scariest, most formidable, ...and (#nobullshit here) deadliest enemy that I have ever faced. And I have no choice. I can't turn and run the opposite direction, and it will just go away. I can't go to my "Happy Place", and all will be restored to normal (although a nap is a beautiful thing). Steven and I are making decisions that are life or death. And it's scary as hell. We have to believe that nothing is impossible and scientifically apply our brain power to every problem we encounter.

The only way to defeat it is to go through the pain, through the fear. Failure is a possible outcome, but quitting is not an option. I have to be a BADASS. I might not look like it in my yoga pants and track jacket, with half my hair fallen out...but that's just part of my stealthy master Ninja Warrior plan. And there is not evidence (that I could find on the interwebs) that Ninja Warriors never got grumpy and/or cried.

And that my friends, is why I believe Cancer Patients & Survivors have earned the right to call themselves Mother Fuckin* Ninja Warriors. 

*MF is totally optional because some of you have boundaries about cursing that are different than mine. And that's totally fuckin' okay! #freepass #nofilter <fist bump!>

Love, 

June Xoxoxo

One Grumpy Ninja

I haven't felt like writing a blog post the past few days. In fact, the last 24 hours, I haven't felt like doing a whole lot of anything -except curling up in a ball in my bed and alternating between napping/sleeping and crying. I don't know what actually pushed my over the edge - half of my hair falling out in huge clumps in my comb, or just starting the fourth week of my chemo/radiation treatment (and the prospect of starting steroids due brain swelling),  or the news that my master teacher when I was a student teacher (and all around amazing woman) found out she had pancreatic cancer this week...but sometimes it's all too much,

 and I just want to say FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK ......

over. and over. and over again.

(I mean, way more than usual, even for me on this blog.)

I was a very Grumpy Ninja.

(Of course, this image exists on the internet.)

Side note: I was very curious about how many "fucks" I could write if this were a movie script before it would be rated R...and it's not as clear cut as I thought (see Wikipedia article "Language" section). I mean, I have not intention of competing with the Wolf of Wall Street with 506 fucks. That would bee excessive in one blog post, don't you think? But I can't guarantee that I won't eventually hit 500+ F words cumulatively...

So, what's a grumpy ninja to do?

Reaching out to fellow Ninja Warriors really did help. I texted with another Ninja Warrior who told me it was okay to take a reprieve from Warrior mode - and prescribed crying, napping and movies. I got wonderful hugs from my master teacher AKA Master Ninja Warrior that also helped. I went for a walk in the rain with Schmoopy and had a good crying session. I watched the first two episodes of Vicious in bed (thank you, Pamela Hawkes!), followed by a warmderful nappy, nappy...

And then I received THIS in the mail (along with some beautiful sparkly bracelets):

A million thank yous, Sharyn! How did you ever know? 

So, I'm sitting here on the sofa, wearing my new classy t-shirt, drinking tea, and watching The Wizard of Oz with Schmoopy, my Brother, and the puppies. And feeling much better.

See! Ninjas can be warm and fuzzy, too!

But really....FUCK CANCER. 

And don't think I won't go all ninja on your ass the next time I see you!

The One in Which I Start to Feel of the Effects of all this Treatment...

I had an idea for a blog post when I woke up early this morning, but now I've forgotten it....

Shit.

Oh, yea. The effects of radiation and chemotherapy. (hint: one of them is memory)

I remember (that's a plus, right?) on our first visit to the Radiologist, this sweet nurse gave us this packet of information about what to expect from the treatment and support systems for cancer patients, and...and......but in my mind, I think I was still saying, "Holy shit! I have brain cancer!" over and over again, so I didn't quite catch what she was really saying.

Imagine a Charlie Brown movie and what we hear every time the teacher speaks. 

It was definitely like that:

I'm pretty sure that Steven was as shell-shocked as I was, so...
NO! We weren't "getting any of this".

I dimly remember her saying, repeatedly, that the symptoms I was going to experience wouldn't start until about halfway through my treatment cycle - 3 weeks into it. Well, slap me silly, and call me darlin'! Guess what? It's been three weeks, and right on cue:

1) My hair is falling out. I think I gathered enough hair yesterday to knit a dog sweater. I don't want to exaggerate, so it would have to be a very small dog - like a yorkie or chihuahua... (Okay, I googled "knitting with hair" and let's just say...I don't recommend it. Don't say I didn't warn you.)

2) My memory is suffering from.... what is it called? Shit, I forget....
Oh, yea! There is an actual term for it: "Chemo Brain". Funny. They didn't mention anything about "chemo brain" in "chemo class"...

Of course, it's complicated and it's not obvious what is causing  my memory problems - if it's the chemo and/or the radiation...and in my case, it very well may be related to the Bastard Thugs (cancer cells) themselves that have taken up (temporary) residence in my brain. Not to mention the cocktail of three medications that I am taking to prevent seizures. 

Let's take a moment to imagine how brilliant my blog would be if I weren't taking the medications, radiation, chemo, and had brain cancer? 
<pause> I'll wait....
So, excuuuuuusee me if I miss a few words now and then or put things in the wrong tense. #freepass!!!!

It's like I used to say to my mother when she'd say, "See! We all smoked and drank when we were pregnant with you guys, and you turned out just fine." To which I always replied: "But who knows how much BETTER I would have been if you hadn't smoke and drank?"

Love you, Mom! She's the one that taught me that you never let the truth get in the way of a good joke.
(But it's mostly true.)

3) Fatigue. What. the. actual. Fuck??? 
Steven and I have been taking daily 3 mile walks up and around Communications Hill. And I was feeling pretty studly. Not that we were breaking any land speed records, but Woot! Look at me, with brain cancer, exercising...and sometimes passing people! Confession: I always whisper in Steven's ear, "Should we tell them that I have brain cancer?" To our credit, I never do. I just think it. Which isn't bad, right?

On Tuesday, I got back from our walk and ended up napping for about 3 hours. I felt like I had been run over by  a truck.

Question: When does a nap become just sleeping?

Well, I googled that shit, and I have some news for some of you <cough> JILL <cough>...
The Mayo Clinic says, "Aim to nap for only 10 to 30 minutes." (full article here)
Even cancer.gov says that if you are receiving radiation treatment, you should aim for no more than an hour.

What?! But I love me some nappy time!!!

Gratuitous picture of napping puppies -
It was so hard to choose because there are so many pix of cute napping animals on google images!

Yesterday afternoon, Steven suggested a walk. I rolled over in bed and slept some more. And it was warmderful! <--- not a brain related typo. This my new word which I expect to see in the Oxford Dictionary next year. I'm kind of afraid that it might be more like "fetch" and never catch on, though.

So, I will take a (shorter) nap today, and we will walk - even it's raining. Because I'm stubborn like that. That's what ninjas do! And if regular exercise is going to increase my chances of a quicker recovery from this treatment, I'm going to do it - come hell or high water!

Besides, did I tell you that Steven and I registered for a half-marathon in March? (This was wayyyyy before the shit hit the fan.) And we're still planning on doing it. Walking, not running. But this MFBCFNW is planning to train for and walking 13.1 miles four months from now. Join us! March 28. 2015 - Livermore Half Marathon!

Gotta keep the eye on the prize, people.

<cue music>

The One in Which I Reveal that George Washington was a MF Ninja Warrior

I woke up this morning, in bed with my arms around my Schmoopy, to the sound of rain drops falling softly against the window. And I was immediately transported back to a memory of laying in a pop-up camper with my family and hearing the rain drops plop on the canvas sides and the breath of my siblings beside me and my parents across the way. And it was so vivid.

I don't have a picture of our actual camper.I 'm sure my mom has many. I don't remember us having propane underneath. Other than that, it seems pretty accurate.

It's weird how the brain retains things, and how they are retrieved instantly from a smell or a taste or sound. Let's face it. The brain is weird. Magical. Powerful. Mysterious. and Weird. Which I guess is my round-about apology for this rambling post...

Today's radiation/chemo will mark the halfway mark of my current treatment regimen. I've learned a lot lessons from fellow Ninja Warriors out there that have seen battles with cancer, but one of the wisest is: Your journey is your own journey. Sounds simple, but it has given me a great deal of perspective after I first attempted to google"GBM" and got all freaked out.  Remember that? (Warning: Absolutely No Unicorns or Rainbows Contained in this Post (sort of)
Thank you to all the Ninja Warriors that helped through that particular hissy fit difficult time.

When I first got my prognosis, another wise Ninja Warrior (Bethany McIvor!) suggested that we google "GMB Survivors". I wasn't ready then, but I am now. Remember, kiddies, how I said we're all on our journeys? But this is a great lesson in how important keywords are when searching the internet.  Entering the keyword "tea party" will yield you VERY different results than entering in "tea party food ideas". These things are important to know because it would be very shocking and disappointing  for some Tea Party lobbyist to arrive at this:

Hint: Sometimes things end up in my blog just because they make me giggle to think about them. Giggling is a good thing.

P.S. I have lots of other lessons about google, but I'll save them for later...unless I get that inevitable communication from their lawyers.

So, I took a deep breath and googled that shit yesterday: "GBM Survivors". And yes, it contained (some) of the information that I was avoiding: The survival rate for GBM is... <June sticks pointer fingers in her ears> "La la la la...not listening!" But this time, I sucked it up and looked at the actual numbers. I already KNEW them, kinda-sorta. It just confirmed the whole Outlier thingy I've talked about it. That wasn't what I was looking for anyway. I was looking for WHO survived and WHAT they are doing.

I know that there are no secret recipes or cures, especially for the particularly nasty variety of Cranium-Threatening Bastard Thugs that are in my brain.... I realize that "cranium" isn't really the right word, but I can't think of a really good synonym for brain?" Oh! I know!!! How 'bout "gray matter"?

Okay, so henceforth, I do decree that they (the fucking tumor cells in my brain) will be referred to as Gray-Matter Threatening Bastard Thugs!  I'll just call them Bastard Thugs for short. But y'all will know what I'm talking about now, k?

Ninja Warrior attacking actual Bastard Thugs (GBM cells) with ninja stars! Fuckin' Awesome, right?!

Anyway, this is some of what I took away from my initial search for Stage 4 GBM Survivors is:
1) They exist! Yay! They're not unicorns! (Whoops! Sorry, kiddies! Ignore that last part.)
2) There are Mother Fuckin' Brain Cancer Fighting Ninja Warriors who are Long Term Survivors (LTS)!
Check this LTS ninja out: Cheryl Broyles's Inspirational GBM Brain Tumor Survivor Story
3) Knowledge is power. If I want to be a Long Term Survivor, I have to ACT like one.
Anyone who knows me knows this: I'm not quitter. I'm going to research and train and use my body, soul, and mind in this fight.

Sorry to break the news to you all, but this was a big a-ha for me (But remember what I said, kiddies: knowledge is power!):

4) This is only the first battle. This is an all-out war, and there will be more battles. There will be more treatment cycles and more battle scars.

The Good News: We don't have to think about them today. We don't even know what they are! What a waste of time and energy - and I can't afford to waste either of these things.

Because I'm a history geek, a thought that keeps running through my head are stories my father sometimes tells (fellow history geek! fist bump!) about George Washington during the Revolution War. Did you know that he lost more battles than he won in the war? And he had many close calls that could have ended his life.  (You'll have to ask my dad for the specifics. He's much better at telling those stories!) But it's obvious that George Washington was a Ninja Warrior, too!

Google truly failed me this time. The best I could to was a GW vs. Zombies pic.Which is also pretty bitchin'!

Although I couldn't find confirmation of it on the internet, I'm pretty sure GW's battle cry at Yorktown was, "Die, you Mother Fuckin' Bastard Thugs"

P.S. Did you know that I went to George Washington University, and I lived in Washington Crossing, Pennsylvania for a time in my life?

Coincidence, or something more?

The One in Which Ninja Grasshopper's Hair Starts to Fall Out - #hairisjusthair

I shared an experience the other day on the way in to the doctor's office. The oncologist is on the 2nd floor of the medical building, and Steven and I opted to take the stairs rather than the elevator. A woman coming down the stairs, wearing a chemo head wrap, remarked as she passed us, "We've got to take the stairs as long as we can, right?" I replied, "That's right!" And I felt an instant connection with her. 

Damn right! Because we are Ninja WARRIORS!

But today I felt like I had reached a new milestone in my Ninja Warrior training. While showering and washing my hair, I noticed a lot of strands between my fingers as I passed my hands through to rinse the shampoo. Now, I have a lot of hair, so that's not that unusual. Steven can attest to how much hair he regularly pulls out of the drain. (On second thought, scratch that.. It's gross and you don't need that visual). But as I continued to rinse my hair, more and more strands were entwined in my fingers. I wasn't freaked out or sad. Really just fascinated. I knew it was coming. My chemo doesn't make all of my hair fall out, but the radiation will cause (is causing) patches of my hair to fall out. I was warned multiple times, so it was no surprise. It was just an acknowledgement that, "Yes, Grasshopper. This is happening."

...but still has much to learn about hair loss due to cancer treatment.

Which eventually lead me to think, 'How much more of this is going to happen?" Will I be wearing a chemo wrap like my Warrior sister in the stairwell? Or is it something I could cover up with one of those cute head wraps my daughters loving picked out for me right after my surgery so I could go out in public without scaring people with my gnarly wound?

They say that, with the chemo I'm taking, that the hair loss is contained to where the radiation is actually zapping your head, but since I keep my eyes closed the entire time, I'm not really sure where that is. I mean, are we talking, like, a bad haircut from Super Cuts? (#freepass - you can't sue me, so neener neener neener!)

 Side Note: OMG! You have to google image that shit: "Bad Haircuts from Super Cuts"!

I may possibly burn in hell for posting this,..

So, is that what I have to look forward to? Is it more like one of those mangy dogs that they shave after rescuing it on Hope for Paws? Those videos are so sweet, but man, those dogs look pathetic in the beginning.

I'm going to stop right now to say; I hope you realize that I not really thinking long and hard about this. Hair is just fucking hair. To be honest, this is the stupid shit that I think about sometimes so I don't get overwhelmed by the Big Picture.

Because the Big Picture can very, very overwhelming.

Lately, I've been thinking about how many Ninja Warriors there are out there - and how I always say that the power in numbers. I just found out today that another one of my friends, one of my teacher mentors, found out she has cancer. Time to WARRIOR UP and get shit done, my sister-friend. We need to go ninja on some serious cancer ass.
 #cancerisourbitch #motherfuckincancerfightingninjawarriors #noonefightsalone!

I'm so sorry that you're going through this shit!
Love,  June Xoxoxo

P.S. But first...search on google images for "Bad haircuts at Supercuts'...

The One in Which I Answer Some Questions...and then Talk About Some I Can't Answer

How is my treatment going?
I began week 3 of treatments yesterday! Yay, ME!  Since I have 6 weeks, and I have 2 weeks done, that would 2/6  or 1/3 done...(See, Fifth Grade Math can be very useful!) and that's just chemo, which I take 7 days a week.

Radiation is 5 days a week times 6 weeks, which a total of 30 days. I've had 9 radiation treatments so far, or 9/30 <--which, in simplest form is 3/10 (Fifth Graders, rock on!) In percentages, I can be more accurate though...that's 30%!
and if you don't know how I got that answer, ask a fifth grader. (Although with Common Core, everything's different, so they might say, "Tomatoes plus cucumbers divided by garlic equals gazpacho.")
I kid. I kid.*

After your six week treatment, then what?
That's a tricky one because there are parts that I can answer and parts that I can't answer...So I'll do the best I can:

After the 6 weeks of treatment, they're going to give my brain a vacation of sorts (I'd really like to go to Key West, but the doctors seem dubious about insurance paying for that.) Then I start taking the same chemo 5 days per month and being "off" for the rest of the month. And I will get regular MRI's to monitor the dealio (which is not actually a technical term, but which sounds way more friendly and innocuous than "tumor cell growth".) As long as things are copacetic, we just keep on, keepin' on.

Beyond this is the stuff that I don't have the answers. Because I don't have a crystal ball, but I do have a Magic 8 ball, and that's nearly as good, right?  It says <shake, shake, shake!>....wait for it....

copacetic! (Amazing! What are the odds???)

If the Magic 8 ball happens to be wrong, I could then go with a Ouiji board...but we all know that someone always cheats with that shit. And that is when we enter into questions that I cannot answer at this time.

So...Moving On!

What are your plans after the 6 Week treatment is over?
I have some big plans after this 6 week treatment is over! They say that it can take between 2-6 months after treatment to start feeling like "your old self". But since I'm a Mother Fuckin' Brain Cancer Fighting Ninja Warrior, I give it ...
2-6 months. Hey, we're bad ass, but we are human. This isn't CGI!

Some things I'm really looking forward to after treatment:

My family is getting together for the December holidays!!!
We are still hammering out the details but my folks will be here in California, and we're working on a place that will accommodate us all. Or preferably two smaller places - one in which the doggies can roam freely, and another in which my dad can NOT have the dogs roam freely. I'll probably still be pretty wiped out since my treatment will have just ended 2 weeks before, but...all I want is to be able give and get lots of hugs and kisses, and nap and walk and laugh a LOT. All of which sounds totally doable, no? Just thinking about having all of us together makes me a little giddy!

But wait! There's more! <said in my best Ron Popeil voice>
(Kiddies, google that shit. I even gave you convenient link to google on the top right of the page. At least until google sends me a cease and desist letter.)

I'm going to be a grandma!!!!! 

Autumn Elizabeth is due the last week of February/first week of March 2015.
She will probably look cuter than this when she arrives, but Awwwwww!

I'm soooooo excited to be the obnoxious grandmother that I always promised that I would be. And when I say, "obnoxious", I mean it in the best possible sense. Like, buying her cute little cowboy boots and insisting on holding her for long times when April & Coffey come to visit....not "obnoxious" like buying her first cigarettes and encouraging her to drop out of high school to start a band.

Steven & I are hosting a winemaker cruise down the Seine April 2 - 9, 2015

I know it was almost sold out the last time I heard, but if you're interested, click here for more info. 

I'm almost excited about this as about being a grandma (I'm totally lying. How could that be???? Impossible!) But it's gonna be SWEEEEET! It starts and finishes in Paris, going to Normandy (HISTORY GEEK ALERT!!! I've never been to Normandy!), and we are going to be pouring some kick ass wine on board the ship! Woooot!
I'm sorry. That wasn't very professional of me. Sorry, SKW Management Team! Good thing that I have a #freepass! Xoxoxo

Daughter, Katherine, is graduating for University California- Santa Barbara in June. 
Well, she will actually be finished with her classes in March, but she will walk in June. See, UC's are on a quarter system. Which means that you have to take more classes and have less time to finish them. And if you ask me, that is some Common Core bullshit.* UC Santa Barbara is a bitchin' school, though. Excellent academic reputation and RIGHT ON THE PACIFIC OCEAN. Seriously? The first time I googled that shit, I thought it was a joke.

You see what I mean??I

I leave you with a hilarious link that Alison Cohn Jameson shared with me on FB. It gives you some insight into what happens to a Ninja when they are not quite feeling themselves.

*I really have no gripe about Common Core. It's just such an easy target.

The One in Which I Try to Go from Highly Dickish to at Least a little Zen-Like

Two things you can be sure of when reading my blog:

1) I'm going to use some swear words

2) I'm not going to give you any bullshit.

I'm pretty sure that when they resected that brain tumor, they also resected the filter between my brain and my mouth.  Maybe that's why I am having a little trouble with my speech? Must be. #nofilter

Anyway, with that being said...I'm going to begin this blog by sounding like a DICK. Let's say: at least kind of dick-ish, but (hopefully) by the end, I will fall closer to the zen-like side in your eyes. I've given you a handy "Very Scientifical Dick-ish Scale" to follow along and rate me as you read:

Okay....<deep breath> So, here's the dick-ish part: (Remember, #nofilter)

I have at least three friends on Facebook who are obviously going through a break-up with their significant other. And I've found myself reading their status updates and saying, "Really??? Really???" followed by the snarky comment (in my head) that we use around the house nowadays:
"It ain't brain cancer."

But yesterday, while I was getting ready for my doctors' appointments (I had three: blood work at lab, visit with oncologist, and normal radiation treatment), I was contemplating how....well...dick-
ish that was of me.

I mean, I know these people are going through some real pain. Getting your heart broken really hurts. Unfortunately, I have first hand knowledge of that, too. <cough> The College Boyfriend <cough> In the moment, it really, really sucks. Professionals have compared it to a death and charted the phases that you go through in the same way: 1) Denial-Isolation, 2) Anger, 3)Bargaining, 4) Depression, and finally, 5) Acceptance.

I'm guessing from what I'm reading on FB from these particular people that they're in the depression phase. At least they're out and talking about it. They've acknowledged that it's over. They are really, really sad about it. And their feelings are completely legitimate. So, how dick-ish am I being to minimize it or question the validity or compare to my own situation?!

In fact, I went one step further...(this is where I hope I start to slip back on the Very Scientifical Dick-ish Scale more to zen-like)...

I started to think that the situation I am in, RIGHT NOW, is definitely better than they are. Yes, even with brain cancer. Ouch! Hear me out, hear me out! Before you push the arrow way back up to full dick-ish.

In the present, I have a beautiful life. I have very little to be sad or depressed about RIGHT NOW.
I have my Schmoopy/Bald Hotty by my side - physically, emotionally, spiritually - in every way.
I have four amazing kids (plus a couple more by law/love) that make me proud, not because of what they DO, but who they ARE.
I have countless other loving, supportive family and friends all over the world who are thinking about me and wishing the best for me....<a thousand, million, gazillion kisses and hugs for you all!!!!>

And let's just talk about yesterday, shall we?
My blood work came back perfectly fine (and the phlebotomist was so gentle, I didn't feel a thing)!
My radiation treatment was okay, but I got to listen to a sweet playlist while it was going on. It included "Manic Monday" by the Bangles.  And who can listen to that and feel sad?
I had a dream last night that I had lost half of my hair - which might happen sometime soon - but guess what? I have a full head of curls right now. BONUS!

So, I got to thinking...maybe my life is some else's .... dream life? )Minus the brain cancer. or at least we would need to make sure that this was in very small print.)

My brain cancer doesn't define me. It's not my whole life. It's just part of my life. Okay, the suckiest part... but if we could crunch those numbers in a very complicated algorithm, the sum = DREAM LIFE.

This is not a really complicated algorithm, but I thought you could use some levity about now.

No matter who you are, what you're going through right now - whether it is a painful breakup, or unemployment, or an ailment/disability, there are probably people right now in the world that are thinking that YOU have their dream life, too.

Focus for a moment on what you have in your dream life:
Cute and loving dogs/cats/birds...? (Oh, damn it! I forgot my dogs! Good thing they can't read. Sweet little morons!)
A view nearby of a sunset or sunrise or mountains or valleys or a babbling brook or <sigh> an ocean?
I'm guessing your are relatively able-bodied because you can type on the keyboard of your computer?Unless you have some awesome, highly-technical voice recognition shit like Stephen Hawking - and that's something that some one would LOVE to have.

It could be big or small - like a delicious cup of coffee at just the right temperature or how warmderful (June/Greg's new word!) your bed feels when you first wake up.

I know it's hard to think like that now, and it sounds trite, but just spend a little time today thinking about what you DO have instead of what you don't have.

And I want to share with you something that Allison Amon shared with me - because it's beautiful. and poignant. and it's a reminder that a dream life is NOT the same thing as a perfect life.

Ring the bells that still can ring 

Forget your perfect offering 

There is a crack in everything 

That's how the light gets in.

Leonard Cohen, Anthem (youtube)

Oh, and I forgot something really, really simple, but so true... (Kiddies, do you remember when I taught you about this one earlier?)

Whoever you are that is going through whatever pain today,

I'm very sorry that you are going through all this.

June Xoxoxo

P.S. How did I do on the "Very Scientifical Dick-ish Scale" in the end?

P.P.S. I know that Scientifical isn't a real word.

"Living Out Loud"

I have had several people comment that they admire me for "living out loud" with this blog. And I've been thinking about this a lot and what exactly they mean. Certainly, I have been cursing a little...okay, A LOT more,  but I have always been online, through Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc. and waaaaaaayyyyy back when, on AOL. (Kiddies, I don't have time to explain, so just google that shit.)

 I have always been an open book as far as that goes.

And I find it fascinating when people tell me that they would never share (fill in the blank) ________ online. That's their "private life". Now, bank account information and other sensitive documents? I'm with you. But if you are living a life of which you are proud, why would you care who sees it?

Years ago, before I went back to school to get my teaching credential, I taught lessons in the computer lab at my kids' elementary school. Yes, kiddies, there was the internet back then, too! Only it was not so cool. Or fast. But everyone could definitely get online and google some shit and find out about things lickety-split (ish). 

I used to tell them, "Don't post anything online that you wouldn't want printed on the front page of the New York Times". And I still think that this is excellent advice. Of course, your personal business isn't likely to be printed on the front page of the NYT unless you have done some really awesome shit or really fucked up shit (I'd aim for the awesome, personally. But that's just me)... But the point is: if someone wants to know you're business, they are going to find out. The genie is out of the bottle, and you are not stuffing her back in, no matter how the sweet and plush the purple chaise lounge is.
[Anyone over the age of, say, 45-50 knows what I'm talking about! For the rest of you young'uns:]

I Dream of Jeannie's SWEET "crib in a bottle". Don't pretend that you wouldn't want to hang out in there.

Maybe your real question isn't "why would you care who sees it", but rather: "why would you want people to see it?" Ahhhh....Let's see if I can explain...

Through the years, I've connected with some kick ass groups of people who saw me through my happiest and most challenging times. My first real online connection was with a group of Stay-at-Home Moms (SAHMs) that began as a message board on AOL! (with dialup! I swear!) and eventually an email loop of lovely women who were in many ways the people that kept me sane when I had four children under the age of 8. I "met" them the year that I was pregnant with Sara. That would be '93 since she was born in '94 (Although her i.d. says something different. See! I told you nothing is a secret online!)

When I first started running, I stumbled upon three online communities: Dead Runners Society, Penguins and CVRT. They talked me through my first races, spurred me on to P.R.'s, and eventually convinced me that I could run marathons! In fact, I ran some of those races with some of those people.

The Penguin Runners Inaugural World Conference in Chicago

There's no law that says you can't meet people In Real Life (IRL) that you meet first on the internet. Although I wouldn't recommend it if you met them on, say, a website like: "SingleMuscularGuysonSteroidsWhoJustWantToMeetandPretendthatTheyAreKillingYou.net".
Then?
Not so much.
But if you AVOID sketchy websites like that - and have a modicum of common sense -  the internet can be a lovely place to meet like-minded people.

It really touched my heart when I began to rediscover high school friends on Facebook that I hadn't seen in years. If you still live in the town where you went to school - bully for you! But most of us don't. And my parents actually moved away from my "hometown", so I haven't even been to visit it in at least 10+ years. I live ~3,000 miles away from my high school.

The Awesomest Prom Table EVER in the history of time. (Except we're missing Peggy & her date)

What I didn't know is that these very, very real people that I mostly "visit" on Facebook and Twitter and Instagram and Pinterest, were going to be such a big support system for me during this -  my most challenging time of my life. June's Warriors? That was started by one of my online SAHM friends. My Online Running Group? I plan to join them in the annual trek to Frostbite Falls in January 2015. We are supposed to do 100 miles in the month, but we can arrive at the Falls on January 45th or even 83rd. I don't know how long it will take me. But I'm sure they will be there to high five me and give me virtual hot chocolate when I get there.

And my H.S. friends? I'm reminded day in and day out what an extraordinary group of people they were are. And I lament the fact that we can't go out right now and paint on some high school walls...put on our combat boots and come up with some lyrics and choreography for my new musical about the Ninja Warrior Outlier.

Facebook, as much as I trash talk it, has helped me stay connected with family and friends - IRL and  SAHM's and Runner-types across thousands of miles. No, It's not the same as a letter or a phone call. I make the analogy that it's like it would be if you lived in the same town, and you could run into each other every day or two at the grocery store or farmers' market. There's not the urgency to "catch up". You share simple pleasantries, and small complaints, and pictures of your kids...at the time that is convenient for you. Which is important for me when my family lives in an entirely different time zone.

I cry every day - Bad Ass Ninja Tears (BANTs)...for a lot of reasons. But yesterday, on my walk with Steven, I cried because I am so overwhelmed by the love and support that I have surrounding me. There are so many lovely, kind-hearted, fucking awesome people in this world. and I'm a honored to know them.

I'm sure in one my next blogs, I'll talk about the kick ass people I have nearby (IRL), who have also been lovely and kind-hearted, and fucking awesome. But I wanted to be sure and acknowledge those of you are so far away and still manage to make me feel like you are right there, lifting me up when I am at my lowest. I feel your support, hope, prayers, love - even if it's through the "interwebs".

So, kiddies, don't be afraid to "live out loud"...just avoid the sketchy websites and remember that everything you say/do is being recorded in on way or another anyway. So, try to say/do things that (most of the time) makes your proud.

P.S. Chuck wanted a place where you could just "like" a post rather than having to post a comment, so I added the little response boxes at the bottom. Let me know if you want me to add additional descriptors. Because the internet is the bomb-diggity, so I can do that for you!
Xoxoxo

The One in Which I Explain Why I Curse So Much in my Blog

Warning: NSFW (Obvi)

Some of you may have noticed a teensy-eensy bit of swearing in my blogs. And you're thinking to yourself, "Isn't she a teacher???" I have two things to say to you:

1) I never swear in the classroom/in front of my students. I mean, even if I have slammed my finger in between the whiteboards with such force that it made me bleed and cry. Trust me. That shit hurts. a lot.

and

2) Fuck you.

If case you haven't heard, I have brain cancer, and so I have a #freepass.

I have been thinking about this, though. Because I really never (hardly) ever used curse words before.
I've always said that using expletives showed a lack of imagination...or vocabulary...or possibly, both. But I now feel that a well placed "fuck" or "mother fucker'" has just the right....how shall we say it?
(je ne sais quoi...) penache? in just the right circumstances.

My grandmother use to say (and now my mother says) that you can say "mother fucking" as long as you pronounce the g on the end: fuckingggg...like a "lady".

But what they fail(ed) to understand is that I am not  a Lady Brain Cancer Fighting Ninja Warrior. I'm a Mother Fuckin' Brain Cancer Fighting Ninja Warrior...I'm a thug, I've got swagger for days, and you definitely wouldn't want to run into me alone in a dark alley.  I'll fuck you up (if you are brain cancer cells).

Otherwise, I will probably leave you alone. Unless you are being douchey. (See, people have a hard time with that word, too. But I feel like it perfectly captures a certain type a person. Hey, it's even in the Oxford Dictionary. If you don't believe me, google that shit. Then, just for fun, try google images and search "douchey". You'll laugh out loud. Seriously. I'm still giggling.)

So, you don't think I "sound like a lady"?  Boo-fuckin'-hoo. Does a lady look like this?

I don't look like this either, but I feel like this when I'm in radiation treatment. Mother Fuckers!

Mostly, I curse because it feels empowering...it gives me strength. It gives a voice to my anger and confusion and rage because ...

I have fuckin' brain cancer.
I have fuckin' cancer cells growing in my brain, and I think if I only said, "Umm... excuse me....I don't mean to bother you, but...Please get out," they probably wouldn't listen.
I don't think "please" is their magic word.

so I really couldn't give a fuck if you think the words I'm saying are "inappropriate" or "unladylike".
#sorrynotsorry

Marriage & Parenthood

Steven couldn't sleep and came back to bed just now. It was 4:44. It happens to us.
Yes, not being able to sleep well. That happens to everyone. But what I meant was...we'll look at the clock, and it'll say 4:44.

That was when April Marie was born.
4:44 p.m. May 1, 1987.

Some of you have heard this story, but many of you have not. But all of you bear with me, because I'm going somewhere with this... it's not just a "birth story". Although birth stories are nice - or there wouldn't be so many reality shows about them. But do you ever notice how people feel compelled to tell you their worst, most painful birth stories when you're pregnant? Especially when you are close to your due date?  What it is it with that? Be warned, April, because it is coming.

Because some people are just stupid. That is all. Sorry.

But April's birth story is different. Because her Daddy was not there when she was born. In fact, Steven and I weren't even dating when that happened. Actually, I dated Steven's best friend all four years of college.<gasps!>  And Steven was "the third wheel" sometimes - the boyfriend's best friend who would frequently join us to see movies or grab a drink. But I didn't mind, I always had a crush on him, but the timing wasn't right when he made his move (see previous post about his attempt at a first kiss). And so life happens that way sometimes.

We graduated in May 1986, and Steven went back to California for a break before he started graduate school at NYU. I toured around Europe for six weeks over the summer - two of which
The College Boyfriend joined me. A kick-ass graduation gift from my parents! (Thank you, Mom & Dad!) I brought home a lot of memories and then settled in D.C. to figure out what I was going to do with my B.A. in International Affairs. hmmmm.... I had a Peace Corps volunteer application partially filled out on my dresser when I found out I was pregnant. I guess I brought more than memories home from that trip...

[FAST FORWARD NINE MONTHS - blah blah blah - and No, April, I won't tell you my labor and deliver story! This time. haha!]

The College Boyfriend "opted out". and by that I mean he checked the box where he had to take NO responsibility for "said baby". (Kiddies, I like to leave you with lessons in my posts, so I just want you to know that there is no box like that anywhere, and I could have went ninja on his ass for child support payments.)  But I just wanted to move on. It was complicated.  And my parents, like they always do, stepped up and supported me. Because one of the things that you learn in our family is that Family is Family. I gradually started to get back on my feet.

Chillin' with Baby April, summer of '87

 And who should waltz back into my life but...Steven. Because it was time to start his graduate program at NYU. Now disentangled from The College Boyfriend and still crushing on Steven, I started to go to up NYC to visit him. Yes, often with April, who was all of 3-4 months old.


I remember one very poignant moment when we visited him, and he was so proud because he'd bought her this jean jacket...I mean, the tiniest, cutest jean jacket that you could ever imagine. There was some street fair or farmers market going on in The Village where he lived, and he wheeled her in the stroller with that jean jacket on...without ever skipping a beat. It was so...natural...

When she could speak, she called him "Dee-shish", which was her closest approximation of "Steven". And then we decided to get married, and she started to call him Dad.  He is the only Dad she's ever known and we made it officially a couple years later. 

This is around Christmas 1989 when we were engaged, and Steven was now officially "Daddy".

I'm going to FAST FORWARD through a lot of stuff again, because April is 27 now, for goodness sakes! It would take eternity to list how many times Steven has stepped up, and proven himself as a husband and father. But I woke up thinking about this one. at 4:44.

Okay, Okay... I will just give you a little highlight because it is one of my favorite pictures:

April's Daddy walking her down the aisle at the winery, August 2013

One of my favorite movies of all-time is Parenthood (1989). Not the tv. show - the movie. Yes, the t.v. show is good, but the movie...It manages to wrap so many of the emotions: romance and turmoil, joy, anxiety, and anguish of marriage and parenting ...AND it has a happy ending. It's close to perfection. Be warned - it's PG-13, because as I recall, there is a lot of swearing in it. Oh, wait. You read my blog, so that clearly won't deter you.

I don't want to give it all away because ...GEEK (& NEWS ALERT): I think they might be playing it at the Vine in Livermore for Steven & Me on January 14th. or 13th. or 12th. Save the date(s)!!! and stay tuned for more info!

But there's this one scene where Julie is freaked out because she thinks her husband has seriously injured himself in a racing accident. She's protesting to her mother (Helen) that she doesn't want to go into the emergency vehicle.

Julie: I can't do this! This is too intense!
Helen: This is marriage! 

See, I told you I was going somewhere with this! It may take me some time to get there, but I get there eventually.  Did I mention that I have brain cancer? #freepass

No one tells you on your wedding day that there will be days "like that" (unless they're a dick), but you better be prepared to step up. Because there will be joy and romance, but there will be anxiety and turmoil, and I truly, truly, truly wish for all of you that there will the minimum of anguish. But that is part of life, after all, isn't it?