Tagged cancer

Sometimes The Stars Align… and Sometimes The Sky Falls

[I am reposting this #tbt in honor and sweet memory of my little warrior sister, Maya the Magnificent aka my mini me. I wrote it 3 years ago. A time part of me wishes I had the superpower to throw back this Thursday to. My sweet Maya finished her loooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnngggggg battle against #AML #fuckcancer. 9/12/03 – 10/2/17. She was only 14. #butthoughshebebutlittleshewasfierce She was 6 when she got diagnosed with AML. 3 battles. 3 bone marrow transplants. Think about it. Half. Her. Short. But. Sweet. Life. She spent her last year at St. Jude fighting for her life. Every damn day. 365. She had her 3rd bone marrow transplant the day after her 13th birthday. She spent her entire year of being 13 in the hospital fighting for her life. She turned 14 in the hospital. She finished her fight a few days after she turned 14. The last video I got from her was of her opening up the birthday presents I sent her. A nurse walked in and interrupted her and kinda rained on that parade and sweet Maya’s eyes rained a little and the gift parade ended. I don’t even know if she got to open them all and it breaks my heart but that’s not even the point. The point is, cancer is a motherfucker. And before anybody says Maya lost her battle, please don’t. Maya didn’t lose her battle; and cancer sure as hell didn’t win. Please don’t give cancer that kinda #fakenews credit. The cancer is no more. Maya kicked its ass, took down its number like nobody’s biz, took. cancer. down. And Maya is forever. She will live on and on to infinity and beyond in the hearts and memories and Maya shaped holes she left down here  This is the truth as best as I know it: Maya fought the good fight; she finished her race; she kept the faith #likeaboss. Like she told me on one of the old videos we used to make together, her superpower weapon was her smile. I am here to testify to that, her truth. Her. Smile. Slayed. It slayed me. And I know it slayed cancer. I seriously don’t know many adults that have gone through suffering like my girl Maya with such grace. And I will never be the same from the pleasure of knowing her and being loved by her. I always say she made me want to be the best version I could be of myself. And my hard truth was, I don’t think we were done. That time the sky fell.]

This is how Maya and I met.

My little warrior sister Maya the Magnificent aka my mini me

Maya’s mama posted this pic on my Facebook wall, after they saw a video I shot at a Stand Up To Cancer event we had for my 2-year cancerversary in August 2010. The video was my daughter’s entry in SU2C’s “Up To You” music video contest. The challenge was to put your own spin on the song. The top 3 would be featured on the SU2C show that September.

This was my sweet Amanda’s spin on the song. I shot the film (that’s why I’m not in it) and my sweet Mikeyy edited the video. The band behind her is the rest of The Kicked-in Fence: her brothers Matt (guitar) and Mikeyy (djembe) and their friend Dustin Boudinet (guitar). All the lovely peeps are the kinds of friends I got by with a little help from. A few of them I miss because they have since finished their own cancer battles. Which only makes this video more precious because it captures a moment when we all stood up to cancer together. It. was. magical.

Amanda got 4th place in the contest. But the point is, this is the ripple Maya caught a wave, or rather a high-5, into our lives on. After Maya saw the video, she asked her mom to take that epic pic of her giving me a SU2C high-5 and standing up to cancer with me. Is their anything more precious?

Me & Maya… or is it Maya & me?

The reason I bring this all up is because everybody’s always asking me about how Maya and I met.

So once upon a time 9 years ago, I happened to flip on the TV and catch the first Stand Up To Cancer show, while recovering from my double mastectomy and my first chemo cocktail hangover. I know this sounds super self-centered, but I felt like it was made for me TV. Like maybe somehow the stars aligned and the big dipper was pouring out the proverbial spoonful of sugar over the Evanshire. (Of course, I took it shaken not stirred, in case you’re wondering;)

[…And somehow the dots in that constellation connected Maya and me and my life will never be the same from her light shining bright like a diamond like it did/still does/always will. Fly high, Magnificent Maya. #twinkletwinkle little star…]

Lifting a Not-a-Chemo-Cocktail on the Occasion of #SHAKEN’s Birthday

A Real Live Book!
Beside myself holding the first copy! #tbtNovember2011 #hotoffthepresses

Holy WOW! Seems like yesterday. They grow up so fast! But yesterday was in fact Shaken Not Stirred…a Chemo Cocktail’s birthday! Once upon a time 4 years ago yesterday aka 11/11/11 at 11:11pm I made the biggest dream of my life come true, pushed PUBLISH, my book went live on Amazon, and we popped a cork on a bottle of champagne to celebrate!

Besides the obvi popping of another cork in celebration, I thought it would be super fun to ‪#‎SHAKEN‬ things up a bit and give away 4 signed copies in honor of my book baby’s 4th bday.

The New Phone Books Are Here!

So if you’d like to enter to win one, for yourself or for a gift, send me a ‪#‎postcardfromtheroad‬ from wherever you are, and I’ll #shaken them all up and randomly pick 4. (Don’t forget to write down the name and addy for me to inscribe and mail to.) Send me postcards and make my mailbox happy at: PO Box 882, West Chester, OH 45071.

And in case you are wondering what to buy a 4-year-old? The best. gift. EVER. that you could (pretty please _/\_) get my sweet book baby that would #shaken up and rock it’s (and my) world like no other…would be to give it the ol’ thumbs up and shiny stars on Amazon and/or Goodreads. 4-year-olds LOVE stars! (As a self-published author, that is not just my bread and butter, but like Popeye’s spinach to me.) So thank you from the bottom of my heart to anyone who has already written a review or will go do that most uber epic act of kindness for my book baby!

Click HERE to go forth and do uber epic act of kindness!

Cheers and BIG love,
Joules

MASK

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This is a #fbf to a superpower freaky Friday I had two weeks ago, in which I did a superkaPOWer scary thing and go up ON A STAGE at a storytelling event in Cincinnati. The event was produced by my friends at Rebel Storytellers. These BESPOKEN events are seriously one of the funnest night’s out in #Cincy. (Save the date: the next BESPOKEN event is January 15, 2016!) The storytellers (and the band) (also there is improv) all riff on a 4-letter word. Previous words have been: KISS last Valentines Day, HERO this past summer, and MASK was the one we just did the week before Halloween. None of the storytellers know what any of the other storytellers are riffing about. It’s pretty magical how it all fits together and unfolds.

Here’s a selfie I took from the stage to remember that time I channeled my inner #littlebravetoaster and did a superkaPOWer scary thing. (As you can see some of those scary peeps are obvi zombies getting ready to jump the stage…or break out the thriller dance;)

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Here’s a video the hubcap made of my MASK story:

Click HERE to read my MASK story. So superpower STOKED to have it up on my friend Jen Pastiloff’s most uber fab Manifest-Station!

To sum up: doing scary things ROCKS!

My next BIG scary thing is the #Route66 marathon/world’s shortest ultra in Tulsa later this month. I signed up before I got sidelined during August and September, when I had to have Operation #outdamngolfball #golfballectomy #hysterectomy #oopherectomy #wholeshebangectomy surgery. I feel like I’m back at least 75%—which is way better than when I wondered if I would ever be able to run again without my insides falling out! I ran the #cincinnati #queenbee #halfmarathon a few weeks ago to gauge where I was in the #comeback process, and whether or not I thought I could/should go for the full at Tulsa’s epic #route66marathon. My conclusion is: #ithinkican #tulsaorbust #okiedokie. It may not be the fastest or prettiest marathon in the world, but the finish line and obvi the BLING will still taste superpower yummy! I will run, walk, CRAWL to it if I have to! #turtlepower #slowandsteadyeatsthebling #cowabunga! And also obvi, I’ll be instagramming it UP! So make sure you follow me there @joulesevans if you wanna get some kicks on Route 66 by taking a virtual run on #themotherroad with me!

What’s a scary thing you’ve done recently and what’s the next scary thing on tap for you? Post below. #ithinkyoucantoo!

Mikeyy Then & Now

A Redheaded Retrospective in 3 Parts

(Part III)

by Mikeyy Evans.

Then.  [14-year-old Mikeyy. Junior in high school.]

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I don’t cry a lot. In fact, I only cried once throughout the whole cancer earthquake that shook our world. I didn’t even cry once throughout the entire film, The Notebook. If you were to bottle up all the tears I shed year-round to give water to people in Nigeria, you would not even provide one person with 1/24th of the water needed in a day. If my tears were Noah’s flood, Noah would only be the size of seven molecules bonded together. In fact, eighty percent of the time water drops from my eyes, it’s my body rushing to my aid whenever I engage in my staring contest addiction, or me staring till I fake cry, so that Mum’s sweet little heart wants to give me whatever I want. That, or I’m just tired.

A time without tears can actually be a sad time. I’ve found throughout my life that when sad instances come along, tears are a little inadequate when it comes to expressing how I feel.

This instance was no different.

I did not cry when we got the phone call. I did not cry when we all dropped to the floor. I did not cry when the realization sunk in that I might not have my Mum around much longer. I did not cry.

Like I said, crying did not seem adequate in a situation like this. Instead, I nothing-ed. Nothing-ing seemed a little more appropriate. It at least made sense. Nothing I said or did would change anything. Nothing I felt would fix this. Nothing leaving my eyes would help. So I felt nothing—nothing but despair.

Now. [21-year-old Mikeyy. Just graduated from CCM at University of Cincinnati with a degree in Electronic Media. The short film UNDER that he wrote and edited for his senior capstone project was just featured in the 2015 Cincinnati Film Fest last night!]

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I never got to be an adolescent. Or, if you go by fiction book standards, I never got to be a “young adult”, recommended for ages 14-21. That’s not to say I didn’t read my fair share of young adult fiction during that time. But I was never quite able to relate. Cancer took that away from me when it attacked my mum. Instead, I was just a young “adult”.

Growing up is hard enough on it’s own, but when cancer comes knocking, you end up having to skip a few pages. I never got to have a rebellious phase or do anything notably “wrong” or “bad”, because I was too busy taking care of a mom who was getting beaten up by round after round of chemo. I never got in a serious relationship because everybody around me was much younger than I felt. I never got in a fight, or ran away from home, or snuck around to try drugs or get drunk or smoke cigarettes because it didn’t really seem to have a point. Why do life-harming things when I had a life being harmed right in front of me? Cancer not only attacked my mom, but in some ways it feels like it attacked my youth.

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But it also gave me a lot.

I didn’t have a lot of heartbreak during my adolescence, because I’d already dealt with some, and didn’t take the steps that led to more. I matured a lot really fast, because I had to mature if I was gonna be taking care of an adult human being. I got a really tight knit family out of it, one that knew it could withstand whatever hardships were thrown it’s way, and loved each other in spite of all our flaws. I got a more precious outlook on life and it’s importance, and a passionate mum who recognizes that too and let’s me be a kid when I need to be. And more than anything, I got new perspectives on God, every day, that have shaped my view and relationship with an all powerful, good God.

I’m just now twenty-one, and I’m finally starting to feel like I’m my own age. There’s a lot of things I missed because of cancer, a lot of normal experiences that probably would have shaped me in plenty of different ways. But when I think back to that night when we got the phone call, if it had been my future self on the line instead, I think I would’ve said something like this: “Hold on tight, ace. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride, and even though those tears aren’t coming now, they will; but just wait ’til you see the other side. There’s hope, even in the little things, so keep those eyes wide open. Don’t miss this for the world.”

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Matt Then & Now

A Redheaded Retrospective in 3 Parts

(Part II)

by Matt Evans.

Then.  [15-year-old Matt. Junior in high school.]

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The whole day was a really big blur. I remember it seemed like it moved so fast, but at the same time it was also one of the slowest days ever. Mikeyy and I had been in my room playing Portal on our Xbox 360 for the previous couple of days, like going through the portals in the game took us through a portal out of our lives for just a bit. It seemed like the best thing to do to keep our minds off of everything going on. Then I just remember all of us in my room, huddled around the phone. Trying to get the phone conference going seemed like it took hours. The doctor’s voice had no real emotion, which just made it all the scarier. Finally, we got everyone on the phone: Dad conferenced in with us and the doctor. I don’t think any of us breathed the whole time the doctor was talking. Nothing she said made any sense to me. My mum was healthy. Nothing was wrong with her. Everything was fine. But then I was sitting there and the doctor was saying she had cancer. Then it hit me. I remember thinking about how ever since I was little, whenever Dad would leave on business trips, he would tell me that while he was gone, I was the man of the house. It eventually just became second nature so that he didn’t even have to tell me. I didn’t think I should cry because Dad was gone, which made me the man of the house. I didn’t think the man of the house would cry—I cried anyway though. I remember sitting in the corner by my bedroom door holding Amanda and Mikeyy. None of us really knew what to do. What can you do in that kind of a situation? I went and sat in my closet. Something about the dark enclosed space of my closet always makes me feel safe.

Mum picked the phone back up and she, Dad and the doctor stayed on for a while longer. I just kind of sat there in shock. Our whole lives had been shaken and everything was different. Everything seemed dark and rainy and just downright sucky then but I never even thought about the silver lining that would come.

Now. [23-year-old Matt. Graduated from University of Cincinnati with a degree in Journalism. Now working at University of Cincinnati with Navigators student ministries.]

Photo credit: Isis Charise @isisimages

I’m not going to lie to you, I haven’t read my part of the book since I first wrote it. I don’t particularly enjoy reading it or even thinking about it. It felt a weird reading it again and putting myself in that mindset. Reliving those moments. The weirdest part is that I really don’t feel very different at all, even after 7 years. Yeah, I’ve gained a bit of weight, finished college, moved out of my parents’ house; all those kinds of things. But I still have that “man of the house” sense of responsibility. I still sometimes sit in small enclosed spaces to feel safe. I still hate doing conference phone calls.

That silver lining was true though. There was no way I could know how much good God was going to bring through all this cancer crap, but He totally did it. And that definitely changed me, and changed us as a family.

He brought our family together. He made my mum into a borderline celebrity. He brought out so much amazing character in her and grew her into someone who takes care of and love on so many people going through the same stuff that she went through. He taught me how to really trust in Him for the first time.

Never has the saying “hindsight is 20/20” been more true than with our family’s journey through cancer. A couple years ago, I wrote a blog on my own site talking about this same topic. Click HERE to check it out. It made me think of that quote from The Lord of the Rings: the Two Towers where Boromir says to Faramir, his little brother, “Remember today, little brother. Today, life is good.” He says that even through the buzzkill, sad, frustrating things that are going on around them.

He knew what mattered. He knew that although there was pain in the moment, that things would somehow be okay. Because they were a family. And they would stick together. And because of that, they would win.

I guess there is one thing (at least) that has changed about me. I now know that if I were in a situation where we were all crying in a closet together, I think I might know what to do. It might be hard, but I would do what Boromir did. “Remember today, little brother. Remember today, little sister. Today, life is good.”

Not because the situation is fun or anything. God, no. But because we are together. We are a family. We will stick together. And because of that, we will win. Cancer’s got nothing on that.

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Bookends

Ford Warrior in Pink
Me at the Ford Warriors in Pink booth at Cincy’s Race for the Cure a couple weeks ago. Super freaking humbled and honored that they’ve included SHAKEN NOT STIRRED…A CHEMO COCKTAIL on their list of recommend reads! Click HERE to check it out!

Today I’m 5 weeks out from my golfballectomy/hysterectomy/oopherectomy basically the wholefreakingshebangectomy. Thought I’d give a little update. First of all, I have been humbled and lifted up by all the small and big kindnesses to me while I’ve been temporarily sidelined (but on the edge of my seat here on the bench) during my #recovery. Thank you, thank you, a hundred million thank yous! As if I didn’t already feel like the #luckiestduck that I get to…

  • still. be. here.
  • and STILL be celebrating my #lucky7 year cancerversary. I’m not done being happy about it.
  • be working on my #comeback after my oncological gynecologist’s uber fab golf game in re: “Operation out Damn Golf Ball” #FORE!
  • be giving the highest high-five that there’s 5 weeks in the rear-view mirror since surgery, and only T-7 more daze till I can #runhappy #runfree again! #handsintheair
  • be packing up for another adventure…with the Grace project…another #graceprojectontheroad-trip! Connecticut (my birthplace), Philly, Richmond, VA, Coastal NC, Raleigh, NC, Atlanta, GA, Charleston, SC…ready or not, here we come! Click HERE for more info.
  • turn the Big 5-0 in T-W-E-N-T-Y daze and then zoom zoom she’s offfffff…on another road-trip around the sun! #cowabunga
  • be working on my next project, which I’m so uber ridiculous freaking STOKED about and can’t. freaking. WAIT! to tell you guys more about!

besides all that THERE’S YOU CRAZY BEAUTIFUL PEEPS! In my life. My tribe. I mean, sinceriously, you guys are icing on the cake. Thank you for that. #nomnom

Tomorrow, I have a special gift for you guys on the blog. I threw down a little 7-year retrospective #spokenword #becausetheworldneedsmorepoetry in my open letter to #fuckcancer last week. Here’s a pic of them flipping off cancer 7 years ago that I put in my book in the chapter they wrote for me.

redheads flipping off cancer

7 years ago, this month, this week, at the Cincy Race for the Cure 2008. Two weeks after my mastectomy. Amanda had just slammed her middle finger in the car on the way to the race. That’s why she was flying that bird in the first place. Then we all decided that was exactly how we were feeling about cancer right then right there. So M&M joined the party. My sweet Redheads. My 3 reasons.

They went through cancer as much as I went through cancer. And in some ways, that seems so much more unfair to me, what they had to go through, watching their mum suffer like that. Having the roles reversed in their supposed to be wonder years and becoming their mother’s keepers/caretakers. Still bursts my heart wide open. Humbles me. Makes me proud at the amazing human beings those 3 sweethearts of my heart they are to me.

I get lots of sweet messages from peeps who are so freaking touched by the chapter my kids wrote for my book, asking how they are doing these days? So I asked the Redheads for a little something special for me, to share with y’all, for my lucky 7 year cancerversary present. So they’ve each thrown down their own 7 year retrospective, which I will be featuring on the blog over the next 3 days.

Meanwhile…I already threw down some words slamming cancer with my poetry, but since they say a picture is sometimes worth more than a 1000 words, here’s a couple of me, then and now, to wrap this post UP. 

Then. September 12, 2008 The hubcap & me crushing the finish line. 2 weeks post mastectomy. It took me so long to finish, they had already deflated the finish line by the time I crossed it. So I did, literally, crush it! My first race...my first bling! It's where I got bit with the bug!
Then.
September 12, 2008
The hubcap & me crushing the finish line. 2 weeks post mastectomy. It took me so long to finish, they had already deflated the finish line by the time I crossed it. So I did, literally, crush it! My first race…my first bling! It’s where I got bit with the bug!
Now. August 28, 2015 #lucky7 years later another tasty finish #morebling! Ford Warrior in Pink.
Now.
August 28, 2015
#lucky7 years later
Another tasty finish. Yay for #morebling!
Underneath the finish line, but still crushing it! #nomnom 

Dear Cancer (A Spoken Word Retrospective Upon The Occasion Of My #Lucky7-Year Cancerversary)

[An Open Vein I Mean Letter To #fuckcancer]

Dear Cancer,

I am still here.

#lucky7 years out from that day

(the mother of bad daze)

when my doctor called and said that damn c-word

(the mother of curse words)

to me

(the mother of my sweet Redheads)

My. 3. Reasons.

Who fell into 3 separate heaps on the floor

At the sound of that word.

Sticks and stones…

—My ass.

Words don’t hurt…

—Bullshit.

I call bullshit on that.

That one word hurt like hell.

It shook the ground beneath us.

I stood my ground though

A little #shakennotstirred

—but only because I am mommy hear me fucking ROAR if you hurt my kids

And that damn word

Knocked all 3 of my babies—

Amanda 17.

Matt 15.

Mikeyy 13.

—it knocked all 3 of them

Down

To the ground

In one fell swoop.

3 separate, sobbing heaps.

3 puddles.

And there I was

One very sick and mortal, broken mama

2 heaving, soon-to-be-leaving, breasts

3 broken hearts to hold

But only 2 arms

And 1 lap.

THE hardest mommy moment EVER.

But something kicked into gear for me—

Some superpower mommy gear I didn’t even know I had

Somehow I managed to gather them up

With these two hands.

We held on tight.

Literally, for dear life.

My life.

It’s been 2,565 tomorrows

That I didn’t know I would get to see

Since that damn day.

2,565 gifts

I’ve gotten to open.

2,565 days I’ve gotten to seize

Days I’ve wrung both the sunshine

And the daylight out of

—before the sun set on me.

2,565 chances to make sure my 3 reasons knew

Out loud and clear and proud

That my one thing

Was to cash in all my chips on loving them

And playing my cards in such a way

That they would miss the crap out of me—

If, by chance, the odds were not in my favor

(But, they were. Thank God. And may they ever be.)

2,565 days to spend myself making sure they remember me loving them HARD.

P.S. I think they do.

So take THAT cancer.

Or should I say, CANTcer?

Anyway, 7 years in a nutshell?

It’s been the ride of my life.

And what.

A ride.

It’s been.

Even the hard parts

Cuz even they meant I’m still here

And my hands are in the air:

Yes…and…

NOW.

Cuz it’s where I’m at.

And what a gift the present IS.

Raise your hand if you’re present…

*raises hand

HERE!

(I don’t see your hand CANTcer.)

Now, in case you’re wondering

This is NOT where I say thank you, cancer

And bust out singing how you made me into this fighter.

Hell no.

The truth is—

My 3 Reasons,

And loving THEM. (Not fighting you.)

That’s what made me stronger.

I thank THEM.

I thank my sweet Amanda.

I thank my sweet Matteo.

I thank my sweet Mikeyy.

But you?

No thank YOU. Very much.

Then why am I even bothering to tell you all this?

You’d think I’d be over you by now.

You’d think I’d have gotten everything “off my chest”

#breastcancerhumor

But I haven’t.

You may be done with me

And God-willing, this is my case

Closed.

Period.

End of THAT story.

But, it’s not your will.

It’s God’s

And I’m cool with that

Come what may.

And may his will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.

And in me, too.

Amen.

But…

Regardless of all that

You oughta know [cue: Alanis Morissette]

I’m not done with you yet, damn cancer

Not as long as this ticker

—That you tried to seek and destroy

With the Red Devil

And the mustard gas

And even the good Herceptinis

Aka my chemo cocktail.

Not as long as this ticker keeps ticking.

Not as long as you keep picking on my friends

—Especially, when you go picking on kids.

That’s the lowest blow of them all, you motherfucker.

So, let me repeat…

Not as long as this ticker keeps going and going…

Like that pink bunny

—I don’t know what keeps him going.

Or my heart, for that matter

Except this is what I do know:

It beats for my friends

And especially, the kids.

And you, cancer, have ticked. ME. Off.

 

 

Pre-Surgery Pep Talk

[Update: I’m home from the hospital. Doing OK. Managing discomfort rather than pain yesterday and today. Today is better than yesterday. Yesterday was WAY BETTER than the day before that. But thankfully that day is in the rear view mirror and I got the pedal to the metal. Anyway, the scoop is: Every day I get a little bit closer to feeling fine *nods to Sheryl Crowe _/_. We are still waiting on the path report for a proper post-surgery report. We expect it will be a good report and will post STAT when we get the good news. Meanwhile, here was my pre-surgery pep talk to myself, with a little help from my writing/creativity/bigmagic sensei Elizabeth Gilbert. She threw down THIS SUPER AWESOME POST<<CLICK IT,  on her FB on Friday, and I thought about it all weekend, while I was getting my shit together and composing myself and my thoughts for my pre surgery pep talk to myself. The coolest thing about the process of dialoguing with one of your favorite writers like that, is that it pretty much feels like you are hanging out with them, not just chewing the fat, but sucking the freaking marrow, talking about all the important things. That’s my idea of damn good surgery prep, the kind that’s gonna pump. you. up! Which is exactly what hap’d…]

Monday, August 3 Noon: Believe it or not, I’ve had a pretty awesome weekend getting ready for my surgery today. ‪#‎OperationOutDamnGolfBall‬ ‪#‎FORE‬ (Which is at 1:30pm in case you didn’t get the memo and want to pray my surgical oncologist has a good “golf day” taking out the cyst and the whole she-bang.) Anyway, besides the pre-op testing I did at the hospital on Wednesday, here’s some of the other important prepping I’ve been doing before my surgery and hitting the sidelines: 1) Got ‪#‎fightingcolors‬ ‪#‎flyingcolors‬ haircuts with my little warrior sister Maya the Magnificent. 2) Finished Deepak Chopra‘s & Oprah’s 21 meditation day adventure. 3) Run as much as possible. ‪#‎runhappy‬ ‪#‎runfree‬ ‪#‎runwhileyoucan‬ 4) Finish moving in as much as possible. Unpack books. ‪#‎konmariallthethings‬ 5) Take my mom to the dentist. 6) Family night out at Red’s game with Hubcap’s company. 7) Help my sweet Mateo move. 8) Groceries. 9) Laundry. 10) Have ‪#‎allthefun‬ I can squeeze in. Like: sneak off to Indy to go see Liz Gilbert speak/go see Trainwreck, eat popcorn with real butter, and lmfao/watch the TIG doc with the fam. 11) Get prayed over at church. 12) And THIS…

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Click HERE to read Liz’s super awesome post.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about THIS post Liz Gilbert threw down Friday. In my pre-surgical procedures I’d been casting a vision for the down-time of my 6-8 week recovery (Finish selection and begin editing ‪#‎Route66‬pix for photo exhibit. Record audio book version of Shaken Not Stirred . . . a Chemo Cocktail and rerelease hard copy with 7 year cancerversary update and fist chapter of next book. Walk my butt off, since I won’t be allowed to run. My Route 66 Marathon training must go on.) But THIS post made me want to cast out a little further. When I got diagnosed with cancer 7 years ago on august 20th, I had a hard time seeing myself in future tense. (The fact that I have almost made it to my ‪#‎lucky7‬ year cancerversary BLOWS MY MIND!) Part of this was good for me, though, cuz I got pretty damn good at being present in the now. But this weekend while I’ve been sucking the marrow out of life, the present, and all the things, I also have been sipping ok slurping on THIS delicious post.

So I thought I’d ante up with my own thoughts about where I wanna be 5 years from now…

-12 years cancer free
-audio book version of ‪#‎shakennotstirred‬
-re-release #shakennotstirred 7th cancerversary edition with update and first chapter of Route 66 Bucket List Road Trip book
-2 more books published (#Route66 Bucket List Road Trip and Homeschool Memoir)
-Route 66 photo exhibit
-enter photo contest
-winter in a warmer climate
-figure out how to do what I do, doing what i love, to pay my way around the world
-get TSA priority boarding
-fly first class
-Write writing workshop based on Alice in Wonderland
-Take yoga teacher training or life coaching
-learn to make an origami crane. make 1000
-learn to play my uke
-do a Triathalon
-publish a book of my poetry
-take a selfie with Jesus in Rio
-spend cervantes bday in Spain, hike the buen camino
-road tripping the country with my friend Isis to photograph 800 breast cancer survivors for the Grace project
-and because go bold or go home, and to tag onto Liz Gilbert’s list, I’d like to write a tv show with her.
-…

Well, that’s a little where I wanna be 5 years from now. Especially right smack dab middle of that yummy ellipsis…

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What about you? Anybody else wanna play? Where do you wanna be 5 years from now? ‪#‎castaway #comesailawaywithme‬

I Walk (Hop/Skip) The (Dashed/Dotted) Line

WalkTheLine1956

So I’ve never done this before, but sometimes I get a note from somebody who’s reading SHAKEN NOT STIRRED…A CHEMO COCKTAIL, and today I got one that just started my day off with the biggest and best kinda bang like kaPOW! and I thought I’d share…

“I’m reading the page in your book with the Boob Lube and had to stop to tell you how hella-fabulous it is. I mean, seriously…a dashed line for me to dog ear the page? You, my friend, are a literary genius. Yep. Right up there with ole Bill S. himself.” ~Kim.

First of all, thank you, Kim. For this kind note, your kind words…but also, let me not neglect to say, for your service. _/_ YOU. so. very. much. made. my. day. today. Before my day had even started! Your note was the first thing I read this morning. Before I’d even had a sip of my coffee. But boy did it make my coffee taste like the best. cup. ever!

I remember cracking myself up about that dashed line. I had to ask my youngest son, Mikeyy, to help me put it in the book since I am so. very. NOT. tech savvy. Also I’m basically not good with straight lines (even dashed ones) (even when I haven’t been “cheers”ing;).

Anyway, most of the notes I get about SHAKEN are from peeps downing their own damn chemo cocktails…and they all humble me down to the ground, which I figure is a pretty damn good praying position, so that’s how I usually roll with it. It means more than words, to be able to walk with someone through their own journey, as they walk through mine, via SHAKEN.

And this note I received this morning…from a badass military veteran/breast cancer warrior sister/friend of mine reading my book and sharing my joy over that dashed line…walking the line with me, if you will…also makes me hit the dirt, heavily laden with gratitude. So I thought I’d lighten the load a little and share;)

And while I’m in this uber fab/fun sharing mood, I thought, why not also share this link about Boob Lube, which I remember making me LMFAO a little when I found out about it when I was writing SHAKEN. I thought/think it was SUCH a superpower freaking clever product to encourage breast health awareness. Still do.

And while we’re on the topic of breast health awareness…this would be a mighty fine time to go check yourself. In fact, I’ll end this post now so you can go do that.

Paper Peonies and Dandelions

Dear V,

One. Year. Ago…

V's Wave

It’s true time flies.
(I threw a clock out the window once
and proved it.)
But Salvador Dali had the right idea
With those weeping clocks…
On days like today
I don’t believe time heals.
And why should it?
Why
Would I ever want to
“Get over”
YOU
?

You left a beauty mark on my soul.
Your mantra is etched in me
The ink is dry
Except for teardrops…
Which keeps dotting the i’s
In Live Sincerely.

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I miss you.

Meanwhile here I am
Spending time
This day
In the Big Apple.
Isn’t it ironic?
Maybe a little too ironic
—or maybe it’s poetry?
Because this is where we met
On that serendipitous day in October
when I saw you standing
(beside yourself)
aka
Next to
Your breathtaking SCAR Portrait
Hanging in Soho
At the very first SCAR Project Exhibit
In 2010.

V exhibit

S.C.A.R.
[Surviving Cancer.] [Absolute Reality.]
You and me both.
And both of us from Cincinnati.
Get.
Out.
Of.
Town.
Funny how
That’s how we met.

That time when time
Put the pedal to the metal
While we were working our asses off
on The S.C.A.R. Cincy Exhibit—
When the absolute fucking reality of surviving cancer
Was thrown in our faces
In the form of a headache you had
that wouldn’t clock out…
2 weeks before opening night.

How?

For YOU
because you said “the show must go on.”
Especially now.
There was no try
Just do
We did it for you.

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It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life
But not as hard as saying goodbye
365 days ago
when
you
punched
out
…and flew away with time…

I miss you.

This V-shaped hole is most def the hardest thing.
‪#‎fuckcancer‬
I hear the echo of your voice
That I can’t remember anymore,
“The show must go on.”
And I still sometimes wonder how?

I was wondering that the other day while I was driving here.
I saw a flock of birds
in a V-formation:
a Peace sign in the Sky.

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Every time I see one I think of you.
And every day
For me (and for V) I am…

Living sincerely,
Joules
xx