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"Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you'll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you'll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go.    Acceptance is a small, quiet room."   - Cheryl Strayed, Author of  Wild At this point, most of you have probably seen the latest update on Paul circulating through your Facebook news feeds. For everyone else, here's the scoop: In my last post, I mentioned that we were spending Easter with Paul's family in Wisconsin. But as our two-week visit approached its end, it became more and more evident that Paul wouldn't be making our return flight back to Buffalo. So the three of us are staying in Paul�s parents' home in Oshkosh, Wisconsin where he has entered Hospice care. We had always considered making Paul�s childhood home in Oshkosh his final resting place on this Earth. After witnessing his almost immediate "release" when the decision was final, I ca...

Not to brag, but when I married Paul I totally cashed in on the familial lottery. I gained seven delightful siblings (and their equally wonderful spouses and kids). Paul's parents aren't too shabby, either (joking! They're incredible and I love them.) My mother and father-in-law are so lovely and so generous, in fact, that they organized a Coleman vacation in Florida a few weeks ago. Most of us live in places with rough winters (Buffalo, Philly, Wisconsin...), so wearing a bathing suit in February felt like an absolute TRIUMPH. Paul's family is scattered across the map. It's a big deal when they get together. I love being a part of that. I love that Ingrid will grow up being a part of that. Family is where it's at.  Rockin' the pineapple print with plaid. Paul - you, sir, are a legend. "Smile for the camera, Ingrid!" "What mastectomy?" - Inordinately pleased to have found a bathing suit that works!  

Turns out radiation leaves me wrecked. I am running on low batteries, my friends. Anything not required for basic survival is being given a bloodshot glance of dismissal from me. Including writing. And probably mailing out Christmas cards. Which, normally, are two activities that give me quite a lot of pleasure. Now, they just look like work. I am trying to give myself the grace to NOT do things. And to not feel badly about not doing things.  Can We Stop Glorifying Busy, Already?! Photo by  Andreas Klassen  on  Unsplash Ever feel like being busy has become the modern equivalent of �living life to the fullest?� We�re obsessed with being busy. It�s in vogue. It�s also a drag. Look at the way we talk - autopilot kicks in when people ask about our weekend -- �It was good, just busy.� We don�t even notice ourselves saying it because it�s become such an ingrained dimension of how we interpret our worth. If we say we�re busy, we must be productive. If we�re productive, we...

My original goal here was to write at least one blog post per week. But I was busy watching season 2 of Stranger Things last week. And by week, I mean 3 days. Because how could you possibly take longer than 72 hours to watch it? If you have no clue what I�m talking about -- I�m sorry, but if you haven�t watched Stranger Things , are you even living? So. Why are you still here? Go. Watch. And then come back so we can fangirl together until our heads and hearts explode over how awesomely awesome that show is.  The past is in the past. Let it go. Now that Halloween�s in our rear view and we�re clipping along at a furious pace towards the holiday season, I find myself glancing back at the contrasting landscape we found ourselves in a year ago. Because I�m a well-adjusted individual who participates in healthy activities that foster self-love and contentment.  Sure, most people might think brooding over the past is self-destructive and demoralizing. Tomayto, tomahto...

Some awesome things that have been happening: I can wear mascara, finally. (I have a full set of eyelashes!) It�s always been my favorite, and I went 6 months without, so no -- I will not downplay my excitement. In case you didn�t hear, my second mastectomy was a success . Probably should�ve opened with this one, but gawrsh I love mascara. I am far enough along in my healing to wear a specially-fitted breast prosthetic. Which I realize is one of those things you might wish to leave out on a blog that�s read by your parents and maybe your high school teachers. It�s sort of like talking about a shopping spree at Victoria�s Secret: a cool thing, but a keep-to-yourself thing. But it�s also sort of exactly NOT like that. I have cancer. (cancer card! It�s happening!) I do (and write) what I want. Anyway, it�s great fun because when I go out, I no longer need to decide between the very unbecoming one-boob look or futilely stuffing a wadded washcloth into my bra. It�s a massive relief to we...

I�m a little late to the party, but a fellow breast cancer blogger, Nancy Stordahl , whom I admire greatly, proposed a summer blogging challenge last month. Though the grocery stores here in Western New York are stocked with Oktoberfest, and our temps are hovering right above sweater weather, the calendar agrees with me: it's still technically summer. I got Paul�s answers for these, too. And they�re good. 1. Share anything you want about your cancer diagnosis (or your loved one�s). Share your age, cancer type, stage, when you were diagnosed, family history (if any), your reaction, how you learned the news, or whatever you�re comfortable sharing. Liz: I was diagnosed with Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, stage IIIb, in February 2017. The cancer was in my right breast and had spread to my underarm lymph nodes. I was 30. No family history, really. Just one cousin on my dad�s side who was also diagnosed fairly recently. Because a lot of people ask: I found a lump so I went to the Doctor. P...

4 days until surgery. The madness Richter scale is rising. I'd say we're at a 5. No, 6.  6 and mounting steadily. I recall informing people during the early stages of my treatment that I was "quite zen" about things. I wasn't being flip here. Or arrogant. I wasn't trying to downplay the gravity of our family being handed a second cancer diagnosis. I was just telling the truth. I felt peaceful. I don't know why. I'm a freak. I'm a weirdo. I don't belong here. If you approached me anytime from late February until maybe a few weeks ago and asked me how I was doing that's probably the answer you got: I feel fine. I'm at peace. Life, I love you; all is groovy. Of course, timing is everything. My sometimes fragile mental state has been subject to a rather extreme yo-yo effect since diagnosis. The first two weeks? Zen is not the word I'd use to describe...anything. Things were more like... a rabid runaway train heading full-speed towards a...