Thoughts

Big wins get the spotlight — the promotions, the milestones, the triumphant “I beat cancer!” posts. And don’t get me wrong, those are worth celebrating. But if there’s one thing life (and cancer) has taught me, it’s that the tiny victories are the ones that keep us going in between the headlines. The world might not see them, but they matter. They’re the quiet, steady proof that we’re still showing up — even when the day feels heavier than we’d like to admit. Redefining What a “Win” Looks Like A win isn’t always the mountain-top moment. Sometimes it’s just remembering to take your meds on time. Or answering an email you’ve been dreading. Or finally showering after three days of “maybe tomorrow.” Here’s the truth: we don’t need confetti for every victory, but we do need to acknowledge them. Because those small wins? They’re how we build momentum. They whisper, “You’re doing better than you think. Keep going!” Why Micro-Wins

Some days, joy doesn’t arrive with fireworks. It tiptoes in, disguised as a perfectly toasted bagel, quick chat with a friend, or ten minutes of quiet time. For a long time, I thought joy had to be big to count — the kind that fills photo albums or earns applause. But when life hands you a journey like cancer (or three, because apparently the universe thought I needed a trilogy!), you start redefining joy. You stop chasing the grand and start collecting the small. Now, I notice micro-joys — those little bursts of goodness that last only a moment but keep me going when the journey feels heavy. There’s the warmth of my cat Misty curled against me when I can’t sleep. The first sip of coffee (natural blend!) that tastes like motivation. The way sunlight sneaks through the blinds and dances across the floor. Tiny, ordinary moments that whisper, “You’re still here.” Why Micro-Joys Matter There’s actual science behind

A cancer diagnosis changes you. Sometimes in small, almost invisible shifts. Sometimes in ways that shake your very foundation and rewrite who you are. It’s not just about treatments, side effects, and appointments — it’s about identity, relationships, and the strange new reality you never asked for and can’t give back. When I look in the mirror, it’s like gazing into broken glass — the person I used to be is still there, but the cracks tell the story of everything that’s changed. Each fracture holds a piece of the journey: the scars, the fears, the unexpected strength. That person had different worries, different dreams, and a blissful ignorance of medical jargon. I love parts of my “before” self, but I’ve also had to learn to live with — and at times mourn — what’s been lost. Here are some of the changes no one prepares you for. Ghosting: When People Disappear You imagine news like this will rally your

What Alaska taught me about cancer, resilience, and the quiet power of being.  Several weeks ago, we took a wonderful trip to Alaska! It was our second visit—and hopefully not our last. One of the most memorable parts of any trip there is seeing the magnificent glaciers. While Alaska is home to thousands of glaciers, the ones we encountered on this trip were absolutely breathtaking. This is the beautiful Johns Hopkins Glacier. It’s a mile wide, reaches 250 feet above the waterline, and is thousands of years old. There’s something deeply moving about standing near something so ancient, so immense, and so silent. These glaciers have witnessed millennia—yet they remain, shifting slowly, steadily, and with quiet power. Being in their presence reminds you what truly matters—and just how resilient we can be when we lean into stillness, embrace the unknown, and rise with intention. Glaciers are formed under pressure. Layer upon layer of snow compacts over time, compressing into dense

When Cancer Crashes Into Your Already Overloaded Life Let’s be honest. There’s never a good time to get a cancer diagnosis. There’s not an empty Tuesday on the calendar labeled “Perfect Day to Battle for My Life.” Whether you’re a CEO, a stay-at-home chaos coordinator, a road-tripping retiree, or anything in between—cancer doesn’t send a polite message asking if now’s a good time. It just shows up, uninvited, with all its messy baggage. And your first thought? I do not have time for this. That truly was what I told my doctor when she gave me the diagnosis. She gave me a look that said “Make time.” But here’s the deal: you get to do this on your own terms. Not cancer’s. Not your doctor’s. Not anyone’s. Just you. Well, OK, maybe your loved ones get to chime in. Emotional Whiplash? Oh Yeah. Getting the “C” bomb dropped in your lap feels like you got shoved into an emotional blender.

The holiday season is a time of joy, celebration, and togetherness. However, for those dealing with cancer, it can also bring unique challenges and emotions. Whether you’re a Warrior yourself or a Tribe member supporting someone on this journey, it’s important to find ways to embrace the season while honoring your feelings and needs. For those facing fatigue, pain, or the weight of an uncertain future, the idea of “celebrating” can feel overwhelming or even hollow. Holidays may carry a bittersweet significance, particularly if you’re navigating what could be a final season together.  It’s okay to redefine celebration on your own terms—whether that means quiet moments of connection, simplified traditions, or simply allowing yourself to rest and reflect. Embrace Your Emotions The holidays can stir a mix of emotions, from joy and gratitude to sadness and anxiety. Allow yourself to feel whatever comes up without judgment. It’s okay to have moments of vulnerability. Remember, you’re not alone—many others share similar

Hello, dear Warriors, Tribe members, and supporters, I hope this message finds you in good spirits. As many of you know, our journey together has been filled with ups and downs, moments of strength, and times of vulnerability. Today, I want to share a personal update and a reminder of the power of living life beyond the confines of cancer. Recently, I’ve been less active in our community, including in our Facebook Group. It’s not because I’ve forgotten about our incredible community or the mission we’re all so passionate about. Instead, it’s because I’ve been busy embracing life—truly living it to the fullest. And let me tell you, it’s been an invigorating experience! And yes, that’s me on the far right in the photo. I was recently the Show Chair for the National Beagle Club of America’s 2024 National Show. Ten days in Tennessee at the show, and tons of work prior to…and after! A full-time job for a while,

Navigating conversations with someone dealing with cancer can feel like walking a tightrope in a circus—one wrong step, and you might find yourself in the lion’s den. But fear not! With a little guidance, you can become a conversational acrobat, offering support without stepping on any toes. In this post, we’ll explore some common phrases that might earn you a spot in the “oops” tent, and offer more thoughtful alternatives that will have you juggling empathy and humor like a pro. Many times, people simply don’t say anything at all, for fear of saying the wrong thing or upsetting someone. Unfortunately, cancer is the elephant in the room and ignoring it can appear that someone simply doesn’t care about what’s happening.  It’s better to say something – anything! – rather than appear unfeeling. What Not to Say “Do you still have that cancer thing?” Someone actually did ask me this! When I said “Yes” he was at a loss on

“The thyroid cancer is in room 4.” That’s how the staff indicated what room I was in during a checkup. I politely went out and said something along the lines of, “I understand HIPPA. However, I am NOT just someone with thyroid cancer. I’m so much more.” The staff apologized – but I’m sure as soon as I was gone, they reverted back to announcing who was where, based simply on their diagnosis. A Diagnosis Does Not Define Who We Are What happened in that doctor’s office isn’t unique to me—it’s a common occurrence for those navigating serious illnesses. Medical environments often streamline communication by referring to people based on their conditions: “the breast cancer in room 5,” “the diabetic patient waiting,” or “the heart failure in the ER.” (Yikes!) It may seem like a convenient shorthand for busy professionals, but this constant reduction of individuals to their diagnoses chips away at a fundamental truth: We are so much more