-Mumford & Sons “after the storm”

FIRST #1

In life there are those monumental firsts. You know, the expected ones. The first word. The First Grade. The first kiss and the first job (mine were in reverse order, late bloomer).

Then there are those unexpected firsts. The kind that change your life forever. The first time you hear the word cancer, in a way that is too personal. The first time you feel that your youth has been robbed. Your dreams for a “family” or a “fantastic” career are taken, for a while or forever. The first time you realize that most of life is out of your control. The first time you realize that your life is overcome with a fate that wasn’t your plan. What happened. You feel powerless.  Instead, you are given a new first dream; dreaming that this never happened; dreaming that you’d wake up and it would just be a dream. You feel as if not many people can understand this dark place. It overwhelms every ounce of your life. Everything good, everything fun, all fade. You put the front on, outwardly denying any pain or fear. It is what you do to protect yourself and to protect everyone else. They wouldn’t like what you knew. I know I don’t. It is a very lonely place.

Then there is the first time you realize that the paths you thought were “right” for you, may not be yours. Things take a turn and had you not been forced to go left instead of right you would have missed out on unspeakable and unimaginable gifts. Not only gifts of monetary value, but gifts of the intangible. Gifts that you don’t get by being powerful, hard working, or smart. These gifts Come from going through “bad” things. But, even more, these gifts come from surrounding yourself with beautiful, caring, kind, loving human beings. New meanings evolve for conventional words. The very things you were socialized to think were true, actually expand. Family is no longer just the conventional sense of the word. Today, it was yet again confirmed that we have a huge, amazing, incredible family of our own, right here every single day. Of course, I have family in the nuclear sense; a beautiful biological family who would do anything for me. This again isn’t about them (sorry guys/gals).

Instead, today is about this unfathomable and amazing expanded family that has done the most incredible thing for Steve and me. We don’t know who to thank, we have sneaking suspicions, but we will respect the “anonymous” donation. We want you to know it’s not about the money. It’s about the thought, the outpouring of so many people. We have no idea how many people, who they are all, and why. It’s a bit shameful for us, but we understand. Yes, the past two and half years have been lonely on one level, but on another we have NEVER doubted that we have an incredible “family” of friends. There isn’t a day that someone at work asks me about Steve. Just that bit of acknowledgement means so much, especially knowing that everyone has busy stressful worlds of their own. Each of you have done your part already in so many indescribable ways. Weekly cards, an email, a text, a dinner, coffees, loaning us your pet for the day, offering up your homes for family, offering up your kids, giving flexibility with work hours, making me a scarf, giving me a a camera (see below why), giving us gift certificates for amazon/dinners/smoothies, driving out to City of Hope, just listening, just recognizing.  Steve and I look at each other often and say “Damn, we are truly truly lucky to have such an incredible group of people around us. People are amazing.” I’m not just saying this now. We really do sit around in awe of you.

This is how we felt today opening a package.

To be honest, and we all know this to be true, money will not cure our cancer, not today. But it sure in hell will make the journey a lil easier. Believe me, I am fucking scared. So scared of what is to come. But I was scared the first year.  And, then I thought I couldn’t do the second year. Now that we are at the third, I know we can do it. We have to, after all what is the alternative. Knowing that there is some financial relief, helps us focus on getting through all the crap that no one can change.

These are the top three things that automatically came to mind with the gift.

1. My brother in law will receive a fully paid trip out to Los Angeles to give my husband new life. This is the first and of foremost importance. Earlier today we were figuring out how to pay for his trip. But, for some crazy reason, we can cross that one off the list.  Whoever you are out there, know that you have helped alleviate the financial burden of his trip from Germany.  So thank you.

2. We can cover the previous Stem Cell testing which insurance doesn’t like to cover. So, again, thank you for helping.

3. My time can (temporarily) shift to focus on caring for Steve.  Once he leaves his transplant,  he will need weeks of 24 hour care. This is an incredible relief. (don’t stop calling me for work though).

So, in conclusion for #1, we are incredibly humbleD, flabbergasted, embarrassed, shocked, thankful, grateful, mad at you all (we don’t know who all of you are, which is mostly true). Thank you for your love, thoughtfulness, giving, care, love. I have to say that I didn’t cry when I first opened the envelope. I was shocked. I didn’t believe it. When I sat down to write this over an hour ago, I’ve cried about 6 times just thinking about all of you. Really. No lies. Wow.

FIRST #2

Thank you to Niko Whelan, Marine Amirkhanyan and Tony Cusumano for the first birthday gift in my life that brought an incredible amount of peace, tears, joy and happiness to me.  Steve’s trip to Callanish. For the first time in 28 months, I saw something in Steve that lit up like a freakin’ fire. A peace and comfort that he can only get from a place that “knows”. They know. They can understand the fear, the pain, the emotional toll of cancer.  His week there was a life changing gift that will remain with both of us forever. It wasn’t a cure or a vacation, but it was something that is beautiful and priceless. If I could I would take “First #1″ and give that week to every cancer patient we know.

FIRST #3

When Canon’s PR agency interviewed me last month for the Ron Howard, Imagin8ion, one particular question ran deep “What did it mean to you to be chosen by Ron Howard and Bryce Dallas Howard as a winner for the contest?”.

A seemingly simple question. It took me all but 30 seconds and it hit me. Being recognized for something I love to do as a hobby, helped me see a piece of myself again. It’s not that I needed this public acknowledgment to enjoy a hobby, but my energy has been focused elsewhere and I had lost a sense of self.

A consequence of being a caregiver is the demise of oneself. Helping, nurturing, and being a large part of the financial support all contribute to the demise of self. Don’t get me wrong, I have zero regrets about Steve and our journey. Just as cancer has made us realize that we have incredible friends, it has also made me realize how incredible your life can be when you share it with someone you chose to love.  I cannot even express here the respect I hold for Steve. He is one of the most incredibly kind, loving, strong, fair, giving, gentle persons I know. He never complains (although I wish he would more. ha). He always pushes forward. I am so honored to travel this road with him. I would do anything for him.

However, throughout all this, my camera went back on the shelf more often than it was in my hands. I only took photos of our cancer journey and chose not to openly share that experience to the fullest. My photography was forgotten.  When I entered the contest, I thought there was no way I’d win. You, my friends rallied for me and had the masses vote. I made it to the semi-finals. I was done there. Happy. Then I made it to the finals. Then this.

We sent this song to our friend Karin who unfortunately has to travel the same journey as the dickberry’s, with her husband, Craig. We share a strong affection for this song. It sums up so much. It speaks volumes and can help you understand that you’ve all helped both of our lives to have light shine in and our ship to come in.  We still have so much ahead of us, but this was nice, yes very very nice.

And as your letter said  “until cancer is no more.”

]]> http://jenberry.com/blog/2011/08/firsts/feed/ 15 http://jenberry.com/blog/2011/04/a-new-perspective/ http://jenberry.com/blog/2011/04/a-new-perspective/#comments Mon, 18 Apr 2011 01:41:53 +0000 admin http://jenberry.com/blog/?p=2265 I need one right now. I cannot say why at the moment, but there are deep moments of sadness and anxiety. Followed then by a breath of clarity and the mundane, but ultimately left with a longing for more.

contax g2. kodak portra 800. los angeles.

I’ve walked past that building so many times in my years. Throughout college it wasn’t there, but there was one like just across the street. One where new life blossomed and other lives were short lived or tired. At the time it wasn’t me. I didn’t put much thought to it.  They were buildings where things happened to others, not me.

But tonight, I walked away from them. My back hurt. It felt heavy, guilty, sad. I wanted to turn back and look, but I just couldn’t. I left you. Left you there and I couldn’t do anything to help you. New pajamas pants, food that you can’t tolerate, funny pictures for the walls, all waning attempts to make it ‘home’. But, all you want is not to feel trapped. Trapped by poisons, pain, and 4 walls.

The feelings of guilt and pain are temporary, but yet so heavy and so strong. For tomorrow I know I will see you in person and your face will ignite my soul and bring me a happiness that cannot be replicated elsewhere. No material item, no meal, no new clothing item can replicate that feeling. Home is you.

Something happened when I met you, loved you and you become sick.  Love for me has changed.  I cannot explain love to other people. It’s different for everyone. There is that new love where everything is fresh; decorating, nesting, making a ‘home’ together. There is the jealous “love” with a false sense of (in)security. There is the love that is felt when someone makes you feel special. It is all relative.

New love was short lived for us. Life happened. Cancer happened. However, I am fortunate, yet unfortunate, to have found an incredible priceless love for you. One that can hurt so deep when I think it may not exist one day. I cannot explain to anyone how it feels to see someone you love in such a dark place. But one that is so incredible that I am in awe myself. Those lingering doubts, trivial anxieties and annoyances seem like a very distant memory. Forever, felt gone. My life is in your life, your survival, just you being. Hopefully those ordinary irritations return one day, then I will know you are here to stay so I can watch you grow old, very old.

Tonight you wanted to know why I never vent or express my fears. Well the only answer I have is that I’m lying. There are days of overwhelming fear that I will lose the only person I have ever chosen to love. You’re not a biological love. You’re not a fake love. I chose you. There are so many reasons why I did. But now there are so many more reasons why I continue to love you. If you only knew how much more, because you are…

If people only could see your strength. You never complain. You never give up. 18 months later. Countless doctors, surgeries, chemo days, transfusions, poked, dehumanized, radiation, scans, days of anxious waiting… Many would pull the covers up and hide, but not you. You still find the time to send me a note of gratitude; be involved in your graduate studies; remember a friend in need or a birthday. I don’t think I’d do the same. I am proud. But I am sad that it is you for this.

I want to somehow show you how much I love you, but I cannot seem to get it out. I don’t know if you really understand. You have built me a home. You have made me feel safe for the first time in my life. You have made me feel truly loved and you do it by choice, not because you have to do it.

My life. My Story. Nothing without you. You have changed me forever. And this will soon be a distant memory. I know this. And you are NOT holding me back. You are me and it all is negligible without you.

What do you want this time? You wonder if it’s calling you to bring you back into it’s little claustrophobic prison. Or, does the call mean that the poison is complete and you are free. Regardless, it is this nagging sound that reminds you of your connection. Your bittersweet ties to this machine. You are stuck. It maybe for a few hours, it may be for a few months.  Nevertheless, it has become your “lifeline” and your world. And, the very thought of it makes you want to curl up and hide.

It is the I.V. pole. It is the PICC or the Port. It is this connection to the fact that you are not “normal”. You are not free. And it cries without warning to strip your freedoms.

As many of you know, we have spent many hours and days in the hospital at UCLA, Santa Monica. And, we hate it. (My mom always said not to use the word hate, but really I think it works well in this instance). It is not the people, for they are priceless, loved and forever appreciated.  And, it is not the care of UCLA, for it is fierce and prized….   For it is the noise, the smell, the little room, the lock down. And, to escape is forbidden. Sometimes you don’t even have the energy to try and escape.  You are not allowed until that controlling machine grants you freedom.

Sometimes we try to flee into another person’s written worlds, but alas there are times when reading is too tiresome. For many patients they are unable to focus, physically see, keep their eyes open that long or make the effort.

So, it is my mission to bring a small moment of mental freedom for those traveling this journey. This departure arrives in the form of the arts; film & music.

You know that feeling you get when you sit through a film and you forget your physical location. You are swept away in a kiss, a battle, a touch, hope. As Roman Polanski said, “Cinema should make you forget you are sitting in a theater”. I think it should make you forget you’re tied to that machine, confined to a bed or room.

My goal is to supply the 26 beds at UCLA Santa Monica Oncology floor (a place that has saved Steve’s life this far) with the items below AND, if we can do really do it, the 26 beds at UCLA Reagan where Steve will receive a stem cell transplant and be literally confined to his room for 3-4 weeks without fresh air or open doors (we have our own PS3, so steve’s got plenty to do if we can just figure out how to hook it up to the worldwide web… sorta)

• 26 (or 52 including westwood) DVD players. (the hospital will probably buy in bulk)
• 8+ Nintendo Wii Consoles (the hospital believes the benefits of getting some people – as long as they are doctor allowed – out of bed and playing Wii fitness will be priceless)
  
• Wii Fitness Games
• Wii Trivia Games or any Wii games at all
• DVDs of all kinds: comedy, romance, action, documentary
• Music CD’s
• Cables
• Batteries

I know you’d like a monetary goal. If we can at the very least get the DVD players and a substantial movie library… It’d be around $3000-$4000. BUT I’d love to get the Wii’s as well. So that could be up to $7500.

How many people can make you feel rare and pure and special?
How many people can make you feel extraordinary?”
-Marley & Me

Steve can!!

There are 5 ways to donate. Unfortunately, UCLA has yet to jump on the ever so effective way of online donations (sorry UCLA). So sorry it’s a tiny bit complicated.

#1 CHECK DONATION via MAIL

Check payable to:  UCLA Foundation and they would need to reference 4SW Oncology/SMUCLA Steve Dickter DVD Fund

Send to:

Becky Mancuso-Winding
Medical Sciences Development – UCLA
10945 Le Conte
Suite 3132
Los Angeles, CA  90095

They will send you a tax deduction letter at your request.

#2 CREDIT CARD via TELEPHONE

Call Rosemary Chiaverini directly at (310)206-0500. Please reference your donation to:  4SW Oncology/SMUCLA Steve Dickter DVD Fund

They will send you a tax deduction letter at your request.

#3 PAYPAL via INTERNET

OK. REVISED – this is now tax deductible.

Follow link: https://giving.ucla.edu/smpfc

#4 DONATIONS OF GOODS

You can mail or drop off the following items to Kathleen LaPlaca or Pattie Jankel

• DVDs
• Nintendo Wii Games
• Music CD’s
• or brand new DVD or Nintendo Wii

DROP OFF TO:

Kathleen LaPlaca
Unit Director Solid Oncology 4SW Unit
SM-UCLA Medical Center & Orthopaedic Hospital
1250 16th Street
Santa Monica, CA 90404

***if you’re in hollywood, let me know. you can drop them off at Biscuit Filmworks or I can come get them!

***if you’re in santa monica, you can drop off at GARTNER, contact:  Michelle Grassmeier. Email me jenberry(at)mac.com if you need the address.

***items can be used

#5 WORD OF MOUTH

If you’re finding yourself upon hard times, I’m so sorry. You can still help by just passing this link to 10 of your friends that may be able to even donate $5 will be much appreciate. Hey that’ll buy some batteries or a cheap used DVD.

————————–

We learn how to kiss, or to drink, talk to our buddies–all the things that you can’t really teach in social studies or history–we all learn them at the movies.

~ Jack Nicholson

Thank you again. I know we often post about donating, but this is for a specific fund raising that will bring much mental relief to, not only us, but other people close to us.

And look at this little guy who has shown his support

]]> http://jenberry.com/blog/2010/08/beeping-a-mental-journey/feed/ 16 http://jenberry.com/blog/2010/08/a-journey-tuscany/ http://jenberry.com/blog/2010/08/a-journey-tuscany/#comments Sat, 07 Aug 2010 03:43:14 +0000 admin http://jenberry.com/blog/?p=2040 Happiness is a journey, not a destination – D’Souza

In my younger years (stop laughing), I often sought out the words of my predecessors to find inspiration. I had an insatiable hunger for quotes filled with knowledge of life, love and happiness. I guess I figured that those who had traveled the road prior to me, would have the answers. The right way to find happiness and reach the ultimate goal of bliss. Was it in finding the right man, settling in the perfect town, landing the most illustrious career. All the things I was taught would bring joy. But, as each goal was checked off I still felt empty and unfulfilled. Confused and feeling lost after crossing off each task, I sorta gave up.

It wasn’t until this past year, and even this past few months did I realize that it was my very path and each task or event that made up happiness. It wasn’t just the pride of graduating college, it’s the late night study sessions eating junk food. Nor is it the wedding day, but more the small moments of laughter and challenges you overcome to get to that point. Lately, I find myself just holding and rubbing Steve’s hand. Cherishing the fact that we are here together, today and able to hold hands. It is this that makes me happy. It is less the idea that maybe one day we may own a home (well this could be exciting) and more the reality of just being able to be together. The fact that today we can go out and enjoy a meal together, whereas he was unable to eat last week. It’s funny how these things bring you closer together. I’ve heard it before, but never truly understood it until we lived it.

I have learned, from my own life, the true meaning of the above quote. That life is full of obstacles to be overcome (hey they build self esteem) and this is the main part of happiness, the journey.

Amidst all the personal challenges since March, we did manage to take a journey to Tuscany’s Spannocchia to celebrate our good friends’ (yes plural we love the bride and groom) wedding. Originally, we were supposed to photograph and video the event, but we’ve had a sudden change of plans and had to bow out. Thankfully, we were given last minute clearance to go for one week. It was a much needed trip to be around loved ones before our next challenge began at home.

Our trip made us realize that life is definitely a series of happy events, rather than a journey to reach a single place of happiness. It is these small chunks of time with loved ones that empower us to face the not so “happy” times. Our friends, Kim and Gary, had one of the most spectacular wedding weeks. Yes week. They had pizza night, cooking classes, an attempted trip to wineries, a ‘hen’ party in Siena, pool days and on and on and on. All these events were amazing, but mostly it was the time spent sitting, talking and sharing that I will remember the most.

I leave you with a few pictures I snapped. And an excuse for not blogging in a long time…

I know i haven’t blogged in months. I could have made this post a long winded explanation about what I’ve been doing and how I’ve been working way to much at my day job here, here,  and here -  among other places. But, I’m not going to make long winded excuses. I’m going out now to enjoy Friday Dinner with Steve and our good friend, Patrick.

to many it provided an escape from the opposite of life. a freedom from unfathomable persecution.

my friend made this documentary about his mother’s life. it has oscar buzz. i hope it wins.

Ingelore: A film by Frank Stiefel from Frank Stiefel on Vimeo.

No resolutions here.

I know what you’re thinking, Yeah right, Jen is completely and constantly motivated. Always living each day to the fullest and doesn’t need to set goals. I think not. And, yes I know you’re not thinking that, au contraire….   Instead, you’re really thinking, bah humbug, ms negativity. And, you’re right.

Around here, things don’t exactly run like a daily Tony Robbins Seminar.  A typical DickBerry (yes that’s our hollywood mash up name combo of dickter/berry) day changes on a moments notice or a good night’s sleep. Accomplishments are either determined by  the simple question of ‘what should we do today’ or based on a physical feeling…  waking up in a good mood, aka “motivated” or a bad mood, dreadfully “lazy”.

I don’t want to be self righteous or wordy in this post. I want to say that 2009 basically sucked on some levels. But, simultaneously, it was a a year of evolution for Steve and I. Marriage, shifts in sentiments about careers, connections with amazing people. Throughout last year “once i…” was phrase that engulfed our vocabulary. Once I beat Cancer. Once I finish this commercial. Once I get through October 1st. Once January 1st, 2010 arrives and Steve is better. Once 2009 is over we’ll be able to have small talk with people. Once I have time I’ll blog.

For some reason in 2009, a year became important. We set a date for January 1, 2010 for the big transition back to normalcy. Well yesterday (in case you didn’t know) that date came. And, although Steve is cancer free right now, he’s not 100 percent. I know healing will come in one way or another. And if it doesn’t we will adapt, because what’s the alternative.  And, what is normalcy. There is no one on this earth that lives without heartache; without sickness; without death.  We are not immune. We are not special.

Well then the question arises of Why should I write a New Years Post then? The answer is… I had a good nights sleep. not really.

Think of it more as a reality check. Resolution, by very definition is a decision to do something or to behave in a certain manner.  I don’t need January 1st to change the way I behave or some catastrophic event to stop the cycle of  “once I…”.  The year of 2009 was  difficult. But it was also a year of realization that making a decision to “behave in a certain manner” doesn’t need to come from a date or a specific incident. The origins of change can occur in an instant; to anyone. And the change doesn’t need to be gigantic or socially impressive. It just needs to be true. True to your soul. True to your existence. It can be as small as waking up 2 minutes earlier and just staring outside to appreciate a cloud, a leaf, a beam of light.  Or it can encompass an effort to treat others with respect. To make mends with someone lost. To reach out to someone who is broken. To put yourself others shoes, empathy.

Upon reflection, the lack of living in the moment and focusing on the future was a necessary survival for 2009. It allowed us to internally focus; to keep a clear head. It brought us introspection and appreciation for simplicity. It made us realize that having each other is priceless. It made us realize that we aren’t alone. We have incredible families and friends (true friends, people that call, write, send us cards, make time for a cup of coffee or wine). Yes we have goals. Yes they have changed and maybe for the best. Who knows. We are still trying to make sense of our experience. So much is out of our hands. What we can control is appreciation. Instead it is now, carpe momentum.

“keep dreaming!!!  keep seeing the big picture and the beautiful little details of life along the way!!!

from my friend Ray who is a fighter and so courageous

]]> http://jenberry.com/blog/2010/01/once-i/feed/ 6 http://jenberry.com/blog/2009/10/pablove-fear/ http://jenberry.com/blog/2009/10/pablove-fear/#comments Tue, 20 Oct 2009 23:53:47 +0000 admin http://jenberry.com/blog/?p=1799 Warning. This is a long, but important post.

I remember it so distinctly. The pacing of the halls. I knew I should be in the room with him, holding his hand. He had refused. I had quickly accepted the safe route and thought the world outside his room would be less tumultuous (for me). For that day was the day that Steve would receive a bone marrow biopsy. Rumors of treacherous pains lead me to believe that I couldn’t watch. I felt guilty.  Guilty that I wasn’t physically bedside. Either way, pain or not, there was a deeper issue at heart. The results. The unknown outcome.  The inability to help.  As Steve was experiencing this moment, I was in utter disbelieve and overwhelmed with helplessness. Had I remained bedside during the procedure, I would have worsened the situation. Instead, I chose to roam the hallways in search of some serenity or guidance.

Pacing up and down.  Each time, tempted to look through the doorways into the unknown journey that many others had started before me. This was the oncology floor at UCLA Santa Monica Hospital.  At first thoughts, not exactly a place of serenity and hope.  Mixed feelings of intrigue, despair, guilt, and desperation overtook my entire being. The feelings so intense that my heart actually ached. A rare feeling that I had falsely experienced in my younger years.  A feeling so strong that it overcomes your entire being.   I had heard of people who have collapsed, fainted, or felt dizzy while experiencing this state. But, in the past cynicism had always ruled my thoughts making this feeling seemingly gratuitous and unlikely. However, I was wrong. This time it was unlike any other emotion I had felt. True fear, true despair. For the first time in my life I understood the real meaning of a word. Not only did I understand it, I felt it. Fear, the “feeling of agitation and anxiety caused by the presence or imminence of danger.” I remember this day distinctly. It was the day I cried, alone, on my home late in the evening. I wasn’t sure I would be able to drive home that day. I knew what it meant to be physically paralyzed by emotion. For someone that has always be in control of emotion, this was unlike anything I had experienced. This day I felt something that only someone  threatened with the loss of a loved one, can understand. I felt things like these:

“life altering”

“to feel helpless is devastating”

“possibility of them not being with you”

“every single time they are tired, you have to take it seriously”

“amazed at the generosity of others, but you’d give it up in a second to not see your child suffer”

These are all words spoken by mothers of children with cancer. And, although, I experienced a spouse with cancer, these words resonant with me. As I watched the clip below, I again felt each single word as it is spoken. Throughout the past year, I have met so many amazing people. People that you wish you’d met under different circumstances. We’ve had good friends fight cancer, some winning, some unfortunate and some still fighting. Our very close friend has been fighting Melanoma for almost 2 years now. Originally, not expected to live, he has now had one clear PET scan, but recently reoccurring in his spine and brain. Regardless he has made it this far with the support of others. Friends, family, research and even those he doesn’t know.  He emailed me 2 days ago, “life is funny, sad, shocking, raw, amazing, and full of surprises.  I love life!!!!” … this just 3 days after brain surgery. He has a true appreciation for friends, family, support and an immense love for his doctors and their dedication to research. I don’t want to get into the politics of health care. But, I do want to address the need for help. Help of people’s daily experiences. Help for research. Help for making people’s journeys as comfortable as relatively possible.

It is with this that I ask for your support. MY DONATION LINK (click here)

Cancer research has helped Steve survive. Years ago he would have passed. I realize there are so many charities in need. But for some reason I am so drawn to one local, becoming International, grass roots charity. Lead by Jeff Castelaz & Jo Ann Thrailkill., Pablove directly benefits Childrens Hospital LA.  Unfortunately, their son Pablo lost his battle at the heart wrenching young age of 6. But, they are still so thankful for the treatment and care they received.  And, even though Steve is an adult and Pablove Foundation is for Childrens Hospital LA, I feel that any cancer research helps everyone.  You really don’t know when it may effect you, a loved one, a friend of a friend. The more we research, we prevail. The more we make families and children comfortable at the hospital, the more they prevail. The more access to treatment, the higher the cure rates. All obvious stuff. All in need of financing.  Jeff & Joann deserve your help. They are incredible leaders, fighters, givers and just amazing human beings. They don’t want people to ever have to feel the loss they still feel on a daily basis.

Here are some mothers who unfortunately know cancer. Support them.

You can support below. Jeff Castelaz is riding 3000 miles across the US on his road bike to raise money for Childrens Hospital.

(don’t worry you don’t have to sponsor per mile, but you can)

Or if you cycle you can join the ride in your city (Click here) (THE MORE THE MERRIER) and raise money for yourself HERE (Click here)
I have many friends riding with him. You can make your own group.

If you need resources for you or a loved one, go here

And, lastly i leave you with 3 pictures of Steve’s journey

…full of waiting and wondering and unknown

some pain and frustration (sorry the photo is blown out)

And in Steve’s True nature, some laughter.

Thank you. MUCH.

It hasn’t rained since Steve was diagnosed.

It felt clean. A fresh start.

With the turning of the seasons, comes the turning of the minds. A revitalization.

I saw this. I’d say it’s straight to the point. AKA poignant. And, although it puts a negative spin on rain, you get the point.

“the way i see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain” – dolly parton

And a picture because lulu always brightens our day when she comes to visit. Even of it’s raining outside and she can’t play. She’ll soon forgot the ‘pain’ once the rainbow comes out.