This Is It

I feel like this could be a dark post regarding subject matter, but it isn’t how I feel at all. 

Under quarantine and with jeopardized  immune system I’ve primarily stayed at home. 

I’m going to declare now that I feel incredibly happy and light. I think I can justify to you why I feel that way. 

My backyard is a paradise and I’ve never appreciated living here like I do during this quarantine. I used to lament about how far away I was from everything. Now, I’ve come to realize, there’s really nowhere if rather be. 

I started my new chemo (Neratinib) and the side effects can be rough, but having my Mom here for company has changed my life. Giving in finally (I am stubbornly independent) to having someone help me, and having someone to talk to during the day (most days I wouldn’t speak until Jeff got home!) makes such a difference.  My quality of life is Better then it had been in a long time - even when I felt ‘fine’ on my last treatment. 

I know the change in weather has instantly affected me - I love and thrive in the sun. My dark periods of the past have always started in January and sometimes I was really desperate. 

It could be those reasons but here is my theory:

I’m at peace.

I’m wary to say that so plainly. 

It’s something I’ve battled since my Stage 4 MBC diagnosis in 2016. I did the begging to above. I made a list of things I wanted to achieve. I was sad for so long about a terminal diagnosis. No amount of meditation made me feel better. I was sad underneath it all. I buried it so far down. My meds made it impossible for me to cry. Yet, if you caught me at 2AM or when I forgot to take my medication, the sadness was at surface level and I couldn’t hold it back anymore. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to turn out for me

Years I’ve spent battling this idea. I could never accept it: I’ve spent a lot of time with myself where I’ve gone over my diagnosis - 5 years later and I still can’t believe I have cancer. I always was getting used to this new normal - it never became ‘normal ‘ to me. 

I had an appointment with my oncologist that brought up some sensitive subjects when it was clear I was running low on options. 

Long story short: there is presently no trials I qualify for, Tucatinib is not approved in Canada yet and due to multiple times of stereotactic radiation, two craniotomies and whole brain radiation - there isn’t a lot that can be done up there anymore! (Never say never thought!)

I felt so conflicted and defeated. I hadn’t come this far to let my mental strength break. I didn’t feel at peace with this breast cancer diagnosis though. 

I spoke to my therapist (someone who basically saved me mental health), and she urged me to say something to those I loved.  I pleaded for their reassurance that regardless of what happened to me, they would be okay. 

My therapist expressed me to that this is my time. My life. I can’t take on how you are dealing and processing my diagnosis - I have enough worrying to do on my own. I felt guilt. I think that’s common for those that are critically ill.

Not only did it open up conversation and break a barrier between myself and the people I love the most, it was then I felt automatically free. 

I felt enlightened and it allowed me comfort. I finally felt enabled to make decisions based on just me. How I felt. I’m feeling this was, I actually feel stronger then ever. To have the knowledge that this can go either way and it’s going to be okay - that was the secret for me to go forward. 

I’m not worried going into scans and appointments. It feels so strange. I wondered if writing this was just a way to reassure myself and mask my fear going forward but it isn’t that. I genuinely feel like this is what peace feels like. Something I’ve been struggling to find and achieve for 5 years. Has it really been that long? It has felt like a whole life and I’m the other hand, just a few days. 

In closing, I feel happy going into my next treatment. I understand it will be tough going forward but whatever happens to me next - good or bad - feels like something I can deal with. 

xx

Sam 

5 Ways To Handle A Quarantine

Rethink Breast Cancer

I have started this post so many times. First, it was a look at the downward spiral COVID-19 is bringing to the whole world. Then, it was about how unfair the Coronavirus is on cancer patients. Lastly, I made a “funny” post detailing how hard it was for everyone to live the quarantine life - one that I’m very familiar to.

None of them felt right. I felt like I was over-exaggerating, feeding into the fear mongering. I felt as if I was looking for pity, screaming “Don’t forget about cancer!” during a global pandemic. Being funny seemed wrong; it wasn’t the time or place to feel satisfied with a big ol’ “I told you so!”.

A couple of days ago Jeff asked me if he should still post his pictures of new beer he was carrying on Instagram (@beeratbrowns).He posted a poll asking if his viewers thought it was insensitive and the answer was an overwhelming NO - anything to take my mind off of March 2020 PLEASE!

The best way to describe how I’m feeling right now is happy, sad, and worried all at the same time. It’s how I’ve felt the better part of 4.5 years. It’s likely how most of you are feeling now. 

Everyone is affected; you’ve been laid off, you are elderly, your parents are elderly, can I still walk my dog? My kids are driving me crazy! Amazon workers have the virus?! I can’t eat Chinese food anymore! My massage was cancelled? HOW WILL WE COOK FOR EASTER?! Stay home! Stay home! Should I make my own mask? “My ratings are higher then the finale of the Bachelor!!!!!”. 

You are being asked to work HARDER under dangerous circumstances. You are afraid and lonely and doing your best. 

I’m not going to make this about cancer. Just some things I’ve learned after spending a lot of time alone. Mistakes I’ve made so that you don’t have to make them.

I don’t have kids. I don’t go to the gym or excercise (like at all) (even before cancer). My life is way different then yours. I’m just speaking from my own experience. 

When you’re alone for hours on end, it’s hard to quiet your mind. Your brain jumps to things you could be accomplishing with all of this time, the dread of getting up to another day of nothing, and instead of doing anything, mindlessly scrolling. 

By the time your day has ended you’ve had way too much time to think about what a failure you are - unproductive with your time. You should be doing online yoga, enhancing your cooking skills, cleaning out the graveyard of hair products under your bathroom sink! You should be saving hundreds of dollars (the need for a Nintendo Switch was real though!), and less time worrying about how your artificial nails are going to grow out and watching YouTube videos of stylish quarantine haircuts. 

Mood swings are normal when your mind goes from Netflix (Carole Baskin fed her husband to the tigers), to craving someone new to talk to, a change of scenery, and thinking about your inevitable death all in an 8 hour span of time. 

Being at home is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. 

It caused me years of depression, anxiety, hopelessness and self hatred.

It still does, some days. I told Jeff yesterday that I wasn’t feeling good. Those are the words I use when I can’t describe how I’m feeling or where it’s all coming from. I can talk to my parents on the phone like normal and then hang up and have a break down. 

It sounds great to stay at home every day! 

I’ll write a bestseller, get perfect skin with all of those facemasks I’ll be applying, read all of the books, do all of the things! 

No, you won’t. 

I’m here to tell you that it’s okay to be unproductive sometimes. Even though you have this time, it doesn’t need to be filled. Sometimes taking care of yourself and others means having a nap or eating a bag of chips (I know this isn’t just me). I can’t say this without saying that 75% of the time I don’t abide by these rules. I make myself feel like shit all the time, then I flip on Animal Crossing and I forget what I was worried about to begin with. 

My problem was/is not having a routine. You probably feel that way too. Eating all the time because your meals aren’t structured. Or forgetting to eat, next thing you know it’s 6PM and you’ve only had 2 girl guide cookies and haven’t been outside in two days.

Let me speed up the stay-at-home process for you: 

1) Do not put daily pressure on yourself to be productive.

This doesn’t mean give in to laziness. It means it’s ok to lie on the couch browsing Pinterest for an hour. Balance!!

2) Do not get consumed with all of the negative news

The Ottawa Hospital has something called “My Chart”, where you can access all of your scans and results. I have never ever logged in. 

That’s how I’m able to function. I put severe blinders on. I’m happy to let my health care team tell me what I need to do in exchange for results that will tell me if my cancer is “bigger” or “smaller”. I don’t want detail. When I was newly diagnosed I stayed up until 3AM reading about the life expectancies of breast cancer and had a panic attack. I never googled it again. 

I know this is uncommon, and likely some are thinking how this is negligent, not taking my health into my own hands. I know myself though, and I would get caught in the doom and gloom. I would not be able to separate the overwhelming statistics from leading a good life. 

I’m not saying don’t watch the news. I’m just saying be careful on what you consume. Be mindful of  your mental health. Don’t give in to the person who assures you THEY would never let poisonous chemo into their bodies. They will juice it away! 

Have you tried drinking Alkaline water? (@thecancerpatient)

(Be sure you’re getting your information from legitimate sources (Nancy on Facebook is not a legitimate source) ). 

3) Be mindful when it comes to your diet

Again. Chips. Bagels. Mini donuts. Hot Cheetos. Some of my all time favourite things! 

One time I was staying overnight in the hospital after my last craniotomy and I had slept in chunks of chocolate I had dropped in the bed. The next morning the nurses laughed it off (luckily) knowing it’s was chocolate and not feces. 

In that instant it was okay to binge though - have YOU ever had a craniotomy?! 

Just kidding. You’re allowed to eat snacks. I went overboard for a while thinking all bets were off though when I started staying at home. You pay for it later. With lack of exercise that you normally have, try to adjust for it. Some days are for sour cream and onion chips, some days are for smoothies and long walks (to the end of the driveway). 

4) Get out of bed

This can be synonymous with stop mindlessly scrolling. Stop having anxiety naps. Have the will to get up, get dressed. It may feel like a novelty to video chat without wearing pants, but you still need to prioritize your feeling of self worth. 

I have gone days without looking in a mirror or having a shower. There’s been plenty of days where Jeff has gotten home at 5 and I’m in bed, not having turned any lights on. 

I use the ‘excuse’ that I have cancer (or, for you, quarantining) a lot. That’s fair. We are all going through an unprecedented, weird-ass time. I will tell you though (and my future self in this position) that getting up, showering and taking care of your basic needs has. to. be. a. priority. 

I have never regretted getting up and going. 

 5) Talk to your family, often. 

I talk to my parents and sister every day. 

I have my immediate family. My aunt, my grandmothers, my best friends. I have online friends, work friends, book friends - all those people I now consider my family. They’re always checking in on me. It’s important to reach out to them as well. Especially when you don’t want to. (Talking can mean texting too! I don’t talk to anyone other then Mavvy most days, but I feel just as close to everyone!)

You’ll likely lose touch with some people as well under this isolation. That’s ok. They were just convenient acquaintances anyways.

And an extra!!!!*

Take your medication at the same time each day. 

Your routine is disrupted. You’re used to taking it in the morning at 7AM, on your way to work.

Your routine is disturbed. You’re used to taking it at 9:30PM, but now you’re up past one and you’ve forgotten it altogether.

Tomorrow is a bad day. You can’t wake up. The world is dreary. You skip breakfast to fall back asleep. You get up to go to the washroom and feel guilt that your dog hasn’t been out. You can’t make the effort, though. You just feel so down. You skip your morning medication because you’re out of it. Did you eat dinner? You have less energy because of the lack of food.

Sound familiar?

This was basically two years of my life. It is a never ending circle. You lose track of what day it is. 

Just trust me. You don’t want to go through this. Do the right thing. Take your meds on time. 

* This won’t apply to everyone, but if it does: this is my most important piece of advice. 

peopleiveloved

In the end, I’m not going to tell you that I am the perfect quarantine-er. It felt icky to write things for you to aspire to when I knew them not to be true myself. 

I think the biggest takeaway is treat your mental health the exact same as your physical health. At a time when it’s so easy to get lost in your own head - reach out to loved ones, be mindful of your eating, force yourself get out of bed, don’t worry so much about your productivity (chase what makes you happy instead!), and turn off CNN. 

Dare I say it?

We’re... all.. in this.. together!

xx

Sam

“I Was Diagnosed With Breast Cancer at 24 - Here’s What It Taught Me”

Sarah Maxey

Back in 2014, I was originally diagnosed with Stage 3 Breast Cancer. It was shocking. I left my job immediately; going on to do six rounds of chemotherapy, a mastectomy, and a full month of radiation (with my mom! Remember when she was diagnosed with cancer right after me? Sometimes I feel like it wasn’t acknowledged enough because I was the priority).

During this time, I started my blog. Through writing I found a true way to express myself. I found something to work on, giving me purpose. It helped me sort out, record and remember my feelings. Mostly, though, I was able to connect with you guys. 

This February marks my fourth year with Metastatic Breast Cancer and this past November marked FIVE years since being diagnosed with cancer. My life has completely changed, so when I re-read the words I had written below, I smiled and nodded, tearing up at how innocent and unknowing I was about the future. I feel like 5 years later, they still ring true.

I read this now and I feel like I want to hold her hand. To stop anything from popping her bubble of a cancer-free life. That the view from those rose coloured glasses would come true. I yearn to be this naive again, but it hurts to think that way. I don’t know her anymore. So instead I’ll leave it here. 

“I was diagnosed with breast cancer at 24 - here’s what it taught me”

Originally published on Hello Giggles July 14th, 2015. 

When I was 23, I had a couple of things on my mind. How I was going to stop my face from breaking out? Wasn’t that supposed to stop after I left my teens? Could I somehow swing going out for drinks when I worked at 5 a.m. the next morning. 

What I wasn’t thinking about was the small, hard lump I’d found in my breast late July 2014. I also wasn’t thinking about renewing my health card or going for a checkup at my family doc. I’m young and healthy. Drinking Starbucks a few times a day is healthy… right

By the time October rolled around that small lump had turned into a large, rock hard one and I was getting nervous. I took the leap and made a doctors appointment. My family doctor assured me: At your age, it’s likely just a cyst! Luckily, she was cautious enough to book me in for an ultrasound. When the imaging came back, I was rushed in for a biopsy (ouch). When they called me to tell me they would like me to come in on November 18, 2014 to discuss my results, I was too shy to say… November 18?! That’s my 24th birthday!

I had pancakes for birthday breakfast and told my boss at work that I was having some testing done but it was likely nothing to worry about. I remember thinking: OK, even if they did find something, I’ll take a few weeks off work, have it removed, be back for the Christmas rush. No biggie!

My mom, boyfriend and I went to the hospital where my surgeon told me the big news: Sam, it came back as a cancer. The rest of the appointment was a bit of a blur, but I remember hearing some scattered terms: chemo, losing my hair before Christmas, leaving my job immediately, surgery and radiation. I was given a letter stating that it would take a full year to beat this thing… so my battle with stage 3 breast cancer would begin on my 24th birthday and end on my 25th

I’ll spare you all of the details. Chemo sucks. It isn’t as bad as it’s made out to be in Stepmom (for me: very little puking, tremendous weight gain). Surgery, in my case, was a single mastectomy (no, they don’t let you keep your nipple). Radiation is exhausting and the open wounds and burns aren’t easy to deal with.

No one can prepare you for the fear and loneliness that accompanies a cancer diagnosis. Your friends and family won’t understand what you’re going through but they’re going to try really, really hard. You’ll start to see everyone around you get purple circles around their eyes and you realize that you aren’t the only one fighting this battle. Everyone will be strong in front of you but when the door is closed, everyone starts to fall apart.

I’m lucky. My cancer was caught at stage 3: it had spread from my breast to my lymph nodes but it had not gone any further then that. Had I waited any longer, my diagnosis could have been much, much different. My genes were tested and my results came back negative.

I finished my radiation a week ago, and I’ve had some time to reflect. Here is what facing breast cancer at 24 has taught me.

People are really good

It’s very easy to believe that our world is full of gun-slinging, blood-thirsty villains. But when you get cancer, your small town will rally for you. I wasn’t in a good place when I was diagnosed: I didn’t have health benefits and I definitely didn’t have any money. There were bottle drives, fundraisers, charity hockey tournaments in my name and even a full page in our local newspaper. Family, friends, friends of friends, strangers, colleagues, schoolmates: everyone started sending me their well wishes. People want to help in a time of need. People are good.

Hopes and dreams are nothing without your health

I love to work. For a while, it was kind of my thing. I worked a lot: 50, sometimes 60 hours a week for the last few years. I chalked it up to good experience, getting ahead. When I was diagnosed with cancer, I realized that I was very sick. And no, I don’t mean with cancer. My mental health had suffered, my skin was breaking out, my weight was on the rise and I was tired, unable to think straight. I had not taken any time for myself in years and it all caught up to me at once. Don’t wait for something like cancer to make you take a time out. Without your health, you can’t achieve your hopes and dreams.

Physical appearances just don’t matter that much

I am a girly girl. I love nail polish and shiny things. When I went in for my surgery, they changed me into a blue robe. I wasn’t allowed any makeup, nail polish, jewelry, or even a hat. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw me for the first time: bald, pale, and not looking very Sam-esque. But… I still felt the same on the inside. I still knew I was in there, the same old me. My outer appearance was shockingly different but I knew that it didn’t matter. And you know what? My new appearance made me more relatable. People are talking to me because they are interested in what I have to say, what I think. Since I decided to focus less on the outside and more on the inside, I have made more fulfilling relationships, I have been able to focus on what makes me feel full and happy at the end of the day. Plus, I’ve saved a ton of money on hair product while I’m at it. Hobbies are fun.

Make time to do what you love

If you don’t know what you love (which is where I found myself on a cold afternoon when a reporter asked me, so what do you like to do in your spare time?) then just try everything. This winter I read a pile of books, I coloured in colouring books, I started weaving, I learned to knit, I learned to cook, I scrapbooked and art journal-ed… the list goes on. It took cancer (and a year off) for me to explore hobbies, but the creative freedom, expression and sense of accomplishment you feel when you complete something as small as a colouring book page is incredible. Make time for yourself, whether it’s a bubble bath, a book club or 5 minutes to meditate in the elevator.

Have faith in something

I don’t care what you believe in, but you have to believe in something. One night, when I was going to bed, I was crying so hard I couldn’t stop. I kept asking “Why me?” Suddenly, I abruptly stopped crying and in my head there was a voice that told me “Because you are strong enough to deal with this.”

I have repeated this to myself ever since. I don’t know who, what or why this happened but I have had faith ever since. Little, strange interventions like this happened throughout my treatments. I always did my best to approach my situation with a positive attitude. I went in to my chemo appointments with all my lucky charms: prayer beads, lucky bracelets, healing stones and the socks that I wore when I got the job I love. I’m not an overly religious person, but my best advice to you is this: You have a choice every single morning when you wake up. Stay positive. Surround yourself with only the things that will lift you up.

Like yours, my story is longer and more complicated then I can fit into an article. But here’s what I want to leave you with: Cancer can happen to you. It happened to me. I’m just a girl. Cancer can happen at any age, on any day, in any situation. You are not exempt from cancer, or for any other potentially scary thing in the world. But this isn’t something to fear. It’s something that can motivate you. Be proactive, and appreciate what you have, whatever stage you’re in.

Samantha Price is a 24 year old business graduate who works in visual merchandising. Outside of her work, she has a handsome boyfriend and two sweet kitties (Oatmeal & Pancakes). She spends her quiet time reading (blogs, books, magazines, cereal boxes), pinning, scrapbooking, and watching Netflix. 

To leave on a high note, here’s what we’ve been up to this week:

 I’m off to enjoy some beautiful February weather (we don’t usually get 5 degree weather in our Canadian winter!)

xo

Sam

The (real) Reason I Keep Breaking My Arm - Narcotics!!

I feel like I used to tell myself “I’m not that bad” but I always knew there was going to be a “...yet” at the end of the sentence. First it was “Well I’m thankful it’s not in my brain”, “I’m thankful this chemo isn’t too hard on me”, “I’m grateful that my bones are proving to be stable”. Every time I disprove one of these ideas I scare myself. It’s not one thing that’s happening but it seems to be coming for me all at once. Individually I could handle and treat this fine... when so many things happen at once, I worry. 

This summer has been both fun and difficult, stressful and sad. I’ve lost a lot of friends, aquaintances and family to this disease. I’ve had to think about the big picture while looking at what choices I make in the little picture will affect that. These decisions aren’t light, they torture me, and I can get advice but ultimately the decision is mine. I’ve had to become comfortable with what I can accept as a good quality of life - which I keep having to lower my standards on.

At the end of June, I slipped at a wedding (Nelly came on so obviously I had to jump up) and my humerus broke (upper arm). Before all of this, I had been on bone strengthening drugs and I wasn’t told it was this bad. I went to the emergency dept in Carleton Place and they gave me a half cast (while also cutting an arm off my beautiful dress) (the one I was like “I love this I’ll finally spend money on something good quality so I can wear it again”)(not).

Stonefield wedding - beautiful &so much fun.

They gave me Ketamine in the CP hospital which was an experience all on it’s own (“Oh, I get it.. none of this was real” as I was trying to convince everyone this was an alternate universe. My nurse holding my hand as I was scream crying.. #horrormoviestuff) I demanded pain medication even when it had only been 15 minutes from my last dose. I had to get my x-rays done twice - which was already unbearable having to manipulate the broken bone - only to have no access to them when I got transferred to the General, where they  had to them all over again.

Top - Arm Jewelery / Agony Face

Bottom - broken/with surgery and metal rod 

The paramedics left me alone in a back room and my family had to come find me. I was crying again, nothing with me, nothing around me, no nurse call bell. A resident came over to let me know that there was “other people ahead of me” and I would have to wait. My mom told me I burst out yelling  “OH YEAH? DO THEY ALL HAVE CANCER TOO?”. She walked away, flustered. Oopsies!

I ended up having  a surgery at the hospital but first,  I demanded handheld fans (thanks Aunt Lorraine & Uncle Ric!). I spent a week afterwards in the hospital, sent home with a sling but told I could take it off.., So I went on to bluesfest and cottaging and swimming etc., wearing my sling but taking it off frequently. They told me to excercise it and get it moving again. 

 

1 / my staples come out from my first surgery 

2 / jeff and I grossed out 

Jeff and I had our wedding anniversary and it started with a trip to the General. My doctor looking at my first arm scan and exclaimed “Oh no”. Just what you want to hear! They had put in a metal rod and at the bottom two screws kept the bone straight and in place. One of the screws from the surgery had fallen out and was floating around in my arm. 

Foo Fighters / the night I may have lost second screw #noregrets

Leading to my next surgery. Replace both screws and make it straight again. I went in on Tuesday and only had the surgery Friday. I took up a bed doing NOTHING for 5+ days, missed family holidays, and fasted (one day from midnight-9PM) in case I were going in for a surgery. I then missed a weekend away to heal that we had been planning since February. 

They sent me home saying to be “extra careful” this time, and if I needed another surgery (in my head I was thinking hell no), it was going to be invasive - they would put more metal in my arm to keep it from breaking further. I was adamant that afterwards my sling was always on. Funny, though, because they told me with the metal rod, I would never break it again...

This Thursday, I went to an appointment to talk about arm radiation - to help with pain and to strengthen my bones. 

As I left that appointment and opened the car door, I broke my arm above my elbow. Holding my arm, we rushed to the emergency room at the General again. They wrapped up may arm and gave me what I think may be the ugliest sling of all time - attached to my neck, a piece of fabric hanging down and holding on to what seems like a felt loop to put my arm im

I miss my old sling because it doubled as an iPhone holder as well..

At this time I was in shock they weren’t going to do anything to fix it - other then giving me heavy duty painkillers (which made me barf in the hospital waiting room) and the sling, which feels less stable then my last. Although, thinking through the situations  a few days later, I get it. They don’t want to make me go through a big surgery if I don’t have to. They want it to heal on its own. I want that too. Yet when I hear my bones constantly clicking together, part of me just wants the surgery now to get it out of the way once and for all. 

While this was all happening, I was told my chemo had failed. They gave me options and I got into a clinical trial (ZW125). My arm really distracted me from focusing on a treatment that ultimately had the chance to really help my quality of life, or lead me into some really bad places. My liver is clear now, my cancer isn’t progressing fast, but this chemo has only been tried by 60 people in the world. It’s in its first phase of trials. There’s little evidence that it works as of yet, but it’s being done out of the General, my oncologist (whom I really trust) recommended I do it, and there is more hope for my family - this could be my miracle drug. Who really knows?  I’ll still have a proven drug if this fails - although it may be a bit more harsh.

Clinical trials are very specific about what you do or take when you’re on them. I’ve had to test my blood, check my heart, have a lung biopsy and an impending brain MRI. If my brain is “stable” meaning I can have the same tumours as before, they just can’t be bigger. That’s the last piece for qualifying completely.

If I had this major surgery, I’d have to put off the trial or go on another drug. I will have been off chemo for a long time when/if I can finally receive this new drug, and that makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want to push it back anymore.

I’ve had a lot going on in my personal life, on top of letting your husband become a caregiver (thank you, Jeff, for learning how to straighten hair, use bobby pins, and shave my legs) which is such a loss of privacy but I’ve learned creates an incredible amount of intimacy. 

Jeff’s grandpa passed on July 27th, after having bladder cancer spread and was in a lot of pain near the end. It was sad - and scary - because I’ve never seen anyone in that state before. My heart lurched into my throat, because just a few weekends ago, I was talking to him. It was scary, knowing that I’ll be the same.  That makes me feel selfish, but was one of the emotions I felt at the time. . 

Roger looked like Don Draper from Mad Men; so dapper, well dressed, charisma, a business man that I know Jeff looked up to. A beautiful life and love story, he had such amazing kids that have all birthed amazing grandkids, one now being my husband. Cousins that were always welcome and warm  to me ane nieces and nephews that show so much kindness and gratitude. I am so proud of how they handled the chaotic last few weeks. Grandpa always said “who’s Marilyn Monroe over there!” when he talked about me and touched my real hair and asked me real questions that no one else would really understand. 

This was the only part of the post I cried while writing, and I always remember how lucky I am to have been accepted and loved by this family. 

I promise I’ll do better at updates. I’ll know a lot more by the end of the weekend. 

xx 

sam