I have made my decision.....

"Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple"-Dr. Seuss

Oh, how powerful our brains are! One of my biggest flaws has been (and unfortunately always will be) my need to over think every situation. It's human nature and it's in all of us to make things much more complicated than need be. I have struggled and obsessed over the question of ovarian suppression vs Tamoxifen. What is right for me? What do the books say is the best option? What would? What if? How come? How long? I have thought so much that I wore myself out.

I have talked to friends and family, I have created a folder (anyone who knows me, knows my love of calendars and folders. If I can create a folder on something, I am all about it). I have printed out just about every single article I could find on the benefits of ovarian suppression in ER positive breast cancers, on menopause at 35, on hysterectomies, on oophorectomies (removing just the ovaries), on the recovery, on the surgery. I have read and re-read every line. I have highlighted statistical facts, I have highlighted opinions, I have highlighted information solely because it looked important. I have been consumed with this for over a week. I had a mini break down the other night over this. I am pretty sure I just mentally wore myself out. 

The other night as I was driving home from work, I was thinking about how I make this choice. I started crying in my car and when I got home I held it together during dinner, then I went into our bedroom and I lost it. Ryan came in and asked me what was going on. I broke down and told him everything. Every fear, every reason I did not want to get my ovaries out, every reason I did want to get my ovaries, how I know I am making this bigger than need be, how I wish I was never told about this new option, how I NEEDED him to tell me what the right thing to do was. Ryan just simply said "do what's in your heart Amy".  I felt like saying well, if I knew that I wouldn't be sitting her crying! However, when he said that, something inside me told me, my answer wasn't in research papers, it wasn't in Google's search engine, it wasn't in any of the places I was looking. To some this might be a no brainer, to some this might seem like I am making a mountain out of a molehill. It's just my head, my heart, and my gut are telling me different things. My head says stay on Tamoxifen. My gut says do the surgery. My heart, felt torn between the both. 

I decided I needed to find some clarity. I needed something to help me make the choice that was right for Amy. As I sat and thought about where do I find this? Do I pray (well, honestly I am not religious)? Do I listen to the advice I have gotten from friends and family (after all they do care about me)?  Where does clarity come from? Then sitting on the couch staring at my computer screen, I decided to re-read my blog. Now, I have only re-read this blog one time and honestly after I was done, I felt sad. I logged in and started at the first entry, March 24, 2011. By the time I had gotten to round 3 of chemo, I knew my answer. I think I always have, I just needed to be reminded. Having gone through everything I have, I mentally blocked out all the bad, all the feelings of sadness, all the feelings of fear. By this I mean from a chemo point of view. I still and will always have feelings of sadness and fear related to cancer, but re-reading the beginning of the blog, when things were still new and my feelings were still all over the place, I instantly in my gut felt like it was happening all over again. I remembered very vividly all those feelings and fears. Then I found the post, the blog post where I sat in my oncologists office in the very beginning of chemo and asked if I could have my ovaries removed. After learning my cancer was 65% estrogen positive and estrogen was made in my ovaries, I wanted them gone too. At that point I was told there was no statistical evidence that removing your ovaries was any better than taking Tamoxifen. Well, look now, there IS evidence that this option can be more beneficial. All I needed was to remember that I told myself from the start, I didn't care how drastic or aggressive it was, I wanted to do every single thing that would make my recurrence rate the lowest. 

So, surgery it is. I can handle menopause at 35, I am kind of thinking it will be nice to go through it young and get it out of the way. I already have hot flashes, I know what it is like to go from a comfortable body temp to pins and needles and feeling like a fire is rising from your chest up. I am already moody from Tamoxifen (I hope it cannot get any worse, there are plenty of days I cannot stand myself). I am already over weight from Tamoxifen and poor lifestyle choices I have made since this all started. I can handle this. I am strong, I am stubborn, I am resilient. I have asked how soon this needs to be done, since it's not emergent (I am 4 years out from chemo in July) but should be done sooner rather than later, I have decided this fall is a great time to go under the ol' knife again. I would like to work hard and drop at least 10lbs (I read, shocking right, that if you go into menopause over weight the side effects are worse). 

I feel good about this choice. I know it's the right one for me. I will meet with my Gyn in the next few weeks and discuss which surgery he thinks is best, total hysterectomy or an oophorectomy. And then I will pick my date. Four years ago, I told myself being a victim to cancer was not an option. I was lucky enough to be diagnosed before it had spread, I was lucky enough to be get chemo and surgery and to be put into remission. I was and still am willing to be as aggressive as possible to make sure I stay in remission. I have 2 amazing children who are becoming their own and who continue to amaze me everyday with everything they do. I am not willing to possibly jeopardize not being there for every game, every dance competition, every argument they have. I am not willing to not be around to continue to annoy the crap out of Ryan ;) We have been married for only 12 years this year, he has a lot more of me to deal with!

So, like I said in the beginning of this post, "sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple"- Dr. Seuss. 

Decisions, decisions, decisions

So when I started this blog in 2011, it was a place for me to write down my fears, get out my frustrations, to help me deal with everything I was facing and to chronicle every step of the "cancer journey'". I stopped writing on here last year because, well life was good. No need to chronicle the every day activities of a normal Mom to two little ones. Well, the other day I had an appointment with my oncologist, still good 3 and a half years in remission, but I do have another decision to make. The last major medical decision I had to make was saline vs silicone vs gel implants. I hate when I feel confused and unsure of what to do. I hate when my mind is at a crossroads and I have absolutely no clue which "road to take".

There continue to be amazing advances in medicine, especially with cancer and how to treat the disease. There constantly are studies being done on the treatment of breast cancer. The newest one to come to light (or at least be brought to my attention, because I fall in the criteria) is to put young women in menopause who have/had ER positive breast cancer. Now, let me recap, it has been awhile since I have written on here, I was diagnosed at the age of 31 with stage III locally advanced estrogen positive, HER2 positive, infiltrating ductal breast cancer. I have undergone 6 rounds of chemotherapy, radiation to the right side of my chest, a bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction and now I take a pill everyday for 10 years. I was (and still am) comfortable with this treatment option. However, like I said, medical advances are made everyday. The new "thing" to do, is women who were under 35 at age of diagnosis, whose cancer was aggressive enough to require chemotherapy and who are premenopausal after chemotherapy would be to shut their ovaries down and put them on an aromatase inhibitor. Now, I stated I take a pill everyday for 10 years. I take a pill called Tamoxifen. Its an evil little pill! Since my cancer was estrogen positive (meaning it needs estrogen to grow) the goal would be to block the production of estrogen in my body. Tamoxifen, as I have been explained to, acts like a bonding agent and blocks estrogen. I was told to visualize the cells in my body being little key holes and estrogen being the key to fit all the holes. Tamoxifen goes in and blocks the keyholes so the keys (estrogen) cannot fit and cause problems. I have been on this pill for 3.5 years, I have experienced and lived through the worst of the side effects, so far anyway. I have gained roughly 25 pounds, I have hot flashes, I am moody, etc.. Nothing that is too much to handle, the way I look at it, I can handle all those pesky things if it means keeping cancer at bay. There is also effects of being on this medicine for a lengthy time, the increased risk of uterine or endometrial cancer, blood clots, stroke, however the chances of those incidents occurring are small (I think). Well, now that this new ovarian suppression and switching to a new pill has come to light, I don't know what the right choice for me is.

If I decide to go with ovarian suppression, I am not willing to get a shot every three months to put me into menopause (I don't like taking medicine, I tolerate Tamoxifen because I have no choice). The route for me would be to have my ovaries removed, since I won't need the other parts, I would actually end up getting a total hysterectomy. Another major surgery. I would also be thrown directly into menopause the moment I wake up from surgery. So, instead of my body naturally and gradually going into menopause (like most women) I was told it would like hitting a brick wall at 60mph. I would have all the effects of menopause, and  I would have to start all over on a new pill for 5 years. Doesn't sound bad, right? Until the kicker, the potential side effects of "throwing" me into menopause would be osteoporosis, heart disease, bone pain, diminished quality of life. Joy! I understand women get hysterectomies all the time and they do fine, but they get hysterectomies because of gynecological reasons, so the hysterectomy is beneficial to them and potentially help their quality of life. I however, do not need one for any reason other then to shut my ovaries down and shock the hell out of body again (it can't really be worse than chemo, right). I also understand these are just "potential" side effects, but the thing with me is, I read every warning label, I research everything, I am that person that NEEDS to know what could happen. Even if 1 person out of ten thousand had a simple side effect/reaction I want to know. I like to be prepared for everything, no surprises.

While the study does show a decreased chance of cancer recurrence after ovarian suppression, it doesn't show an overall survival advantage. Basically, the chances of cancer coming back drop (not significantly but it does drop) and the chances of dying from heart disease or some other complication increase (at least that's how I am understanding it). Unfortunately, tamoxifen used to only be taken for 5 years, a new study proved that extending that to 10 decreased cancer recurrence rates. Since the 10 year Tamoxifen trial and this new SOFT trial are fairly new, there is no statistical evidence stating which one is more beneficial. See why I am confused?

I am the type of person who needs black or white, right choice or wrong choice. I am an over thinker, over analyzer, I have been researching this new information, I have made a pros and cons list, I have been consumed with "what if". I felt the most confident when my doctors told me, you WILL get chemo, you WILL get a mastectomy, you WILL get radiation, you WILL take this pill. Being told, this is your call, I can't seem to figure out what the right answer for me is. This isn't a simple question in my mind. Do I stay the course I have been on for 3.5 years (if it isn't broke why fix it) or do I switch to the new standard of care option (advances in medicine are made for a reason). The hardest thing for me is the unknown (which has and will continue to be the hardest part of this journey). My doctor did ask what my goals were, that is simple, to see Gabrielle and Cole grow up, to not ever have to go through that "journey"again, to grow old with Ryan, the same goal every wife/mother has. I was told, if my goal is to continue to be as aggressive as possible (I made that choice the day I was diagnosed) then surgery and switching pills is the best choice from a cancer stand point. Not the best choice from a now healthy 35 year old stand point though. I did tell myself and my doctors from day 1, that I wanted to do and take whatever was going to make my recurrence rate the lowest it could be, but at the same time, I don't want to decrease my quality of life, I don't want to feel like a 70 year old stuck in a 35 year olds body. Don't get me wrong, every day that goes by that cancer does not recur, my chances of it recurring drop. Each year that I go without recurring, I feel more and more confident this is never coming back. If I am 4 years out and doing fine, do I really want to "alter" myself yet again? I am not a big fan of change, I do best in situations where I can plan my life, where I can plan and be prepared for outcomes ( I am so "Type A" it scares me) I don't like the "well......." feeling.

I had such high hopes that when I got the port removed in April 2012, the big steps would be behind me. In the end I am confident I will do what is right for ME. I am confident I will make the decision that is best for my family. I just need to figure out what the hell that decision is and how I make it.

Losing someone is never easy.......

"Don't cry because its over, smile because it happened"- Dr Seuss.

It's funny the friends and relationships you form with other people who are in your boat. Since my diagnosis 3 years ago, I have made numerous friends through cancer. It has been one of the good things, meeting new people, creating new bonds and friendships with people who understand what your going through or went through. I have been fortunate to make several friends, a few have become very good friends. I never imagined I would have to say goodbye to one of them.

In one of my very first blog entries I wrote about a patient at the cancer center who I ran into in the chemo room. This was not just another patient (I don't mean that in any negative way), this patient was a favorite of mine. From the first day I met him, he was special, he was always happy, always positive. Even when he was feeling like crap from his chemo he always wanted to talk about my family, my life, he always told me "it is what it is" or "what am I gonna do, feel sorry for myself". He was the very first patient I told that I had cancer to, he was at the cancer center (by coincidence) the day of my first chemo. He saw me in the chemo room, stopped us and said "what the hell are you doing back here", when I told him he responded with "not you". He then put his arms around me gave me the biggest hug and said "you are going to beat this kid". He shook Ryan's hand and told him whatever we needed he was there for us. We ran into him a bunch of other times during my course of treatment and he always asked about me when he went in for his appointments. Once I returned to work,  he would come in, ask for me, give me a hug and tell me how great I looked (even when I had no hair and knew I looked horrible, he always told me I looked great). He sat down with me once I was in remission and he told me how pissed off he was that it happened to me. I told him cancer doesn't discriminate and he wanted to hear nothing of that, he wanted to know what was being done to make sure I stayed in remission, what needed to be done to help my mental state of mind, whatever I needed he reassured me it was going to be alright. He became more than a patient, he was my buddy, he had a piece of my heart.

Earlier this year, his cancer came back. I was devastated when he came to my desk that day. He sat down looked at me and said "well sweetheart its back, it doesn't look good", I remember telling him "no, you are going to fight and you are going to beat this again, you have to". Every time he came in for treatment from that day on he always came to my desk, called me "sweetheart" or "kid" and never wanted to talk about himself. He only wanted to know that I was fine, that I was still in remission, that I was taking care of myself. He downplayed every aspect of what he was going through. He truly was a selfless man. I mean, he would always bring in cakes or breakfast, but what I always remember is the hug I got after each appointment. He would hug me so tight that some times I was certain he may pop an implant. He came in for an appointment last month, he came to my desk sat down and said "its over kid", I told him no, no it wasn't. I wasn't listening to him, I didn't want to hear that. I told him he still had fight in him and they were going to figure something out. He came in last week for another appointment, at that appointment, it wasn't him. It took everything I had to be strong while he was there, I wanted to cry, I wanted to wrap my arms around him and tell him I was sorry, tell him it wasn't fair. Not him! I couldn't make eye contact with his wife, she was trying to be strong for him. Today, he went to Heaven. Today, he was set free from pain. Today, the world lost an incredible man. Today, a piece of my heart broke.

Mr. Brooks, you will never fully know how much you mean to me. How much encouragement you gave me. I am glad you are free from suffering, I am glad you will finally get to rest. It will be hard to not see you, I will miss your hugs, I will miss your humor. I will hold onto the memories that I have of you.

Sometimes I feel like I am falling apart

    Ok, I know that I officially "ended my blog" in the beginning of the year, however, it was such a good therapist for me and I want to keep this entire journey in one place. So here goes my thoughts and emotions on being 3 years cancer free.

   On September 16th I celebrated being in remission for 3 years. Yay (or so I thought yay). I have been looking forward to the 3 year mark since the day I was diagnosed. I remember being told, "the first 3 years are the most important", generally speaking my chances of a recurrence are the most high in those first 3 years. I told myself, make it to 3 years and the rest is going to be cake. I am pretty sure I set myself up for failure on that one. Don't get me wrong, I am beyond ecstatic to be cancer free 3 years later! I am starting to find it difficult again to not let the worry train come around and I am sick and tired of being on a pill that makes me not myself.

   The worry train; I remember my world falling completely apart on that day in March 3 years ago. I have struggled with intense fear of dying, fear of facing chemotherapy and surgeries, fear of what my life becomes after all this. I was lucky to have a really good therapist and support system (outside my blog) who helped me face those fears one at a time. I conquered everything and made it to the other side. I remember dealing with the after effects of everything was actually harder than physically dealing with everything (if that makes sense). As of lately, I have found myself falling back into that space. I honestly think it is because I am letting life happen again and quite frankly, it scares the shit out of me. Three years ago I stopped allowing myself to look into the future, I didn't want to think about beyond the day I was in. I didn't want anything in my life to change, I felt safe in my secluded little bubble. Well, guess what? Life goes on, you can't live inside your own little bubble. We moved into a new house a couple months ago (a house we have plans for), Gabrielle is following her ambitions on an amazing competition dance team, Cole is busy playing baseball, I am finishing my degree. I have let myself think about and get excited about what is to come. I can't wait to see how our plans with the house pan out, I can't wait to see Gabrielle on the "big stage" (as she calls it) competing with an awesome team, I can't wait to get my degree in my hands and see where that takes me, to see how Cole continues to grow at baseball. The other day I got hit, a huge bag full of bricks right in the stomach hit, hit with fear that letting myself get excited and plan for the future again is wrong. I find myself so excited for what is to come that I am making myself scared, does that make sense? I am afraid that allowing myself to be happy for the future and make plans is going to backfire. I understand the future is a scary thought for anyone, I understand no one is guaranteed another day, I am honestly at peace with whatever the outcome of my life is. However, I do get scared at times still. Yesterday I found a weird, not a lump, more like a ridge in my implant that hurts. Of course I went, in my mind, instantly to the day I found out. I sat on my bed and bawled my eyes out, Ryan kept telling me it is nothing. So much was done to my chest that things like scar tissue or something else is going to pop up, that I have foreign objects in my body and at times I will feel weird things. I am sure it is just a muscle or the implant but it still scares me. It re-affirmed that everything can change in an instant.

   Tamoxifen. Oh. How. I. Hate. Thee. This little white pill is the devil. I know it is serving me a great purpose and I will continue to take it until I am 42 (7 and a half more years). I don't know how I am going to get through those 7 and a half years. When I was first diagnosed, since my cancer was estrogen positive, I was told after chemo I could do Tamoxifen for 10 years or get my ovaries removed and do another pill option. Tamoxifen has the statistical information that makes me feel the safest. This little pill makes me feel like crap though. I have gained weight (like 30lbs), my emotions are all over the place, my moods are all over the place, I can't sleep at night, I get hot flashes, I bruise like I get beat up daily, my patience is very small, I am just sick and tired of taking it. I know things could be A LOT worse and I am very fortunate for the outcome I received, I just get angry (probably another side effect) that I don't feel like myself still.

   A part of me feels guilty for even writing this blog and complaining all most about such minimal things. Like I said, this my therapist and for me, I can write my thoughts better than I speak them.

My Poems

Poem #1

"My Story"

I was given a second chance, so my story could be told

I was diagnosed with cancer, at 31 years old.

When I went through chemo I lost all my hair

it was what I had to do, so I didn't care.

Two beautiful angels were my inspiration

when I'd feel like I couldn't do it, they were my motivation.

I kicked and I fought for 8 months long

now it's been 2 years since the cancers been gone.

I've been through hell and back, many tears have been shed

but now I am smiling and the hair is back on my head.

I will watch my kids as they grow and become adults

I will tell them stories they can't remember of the battles mommy fought.

I will watch my daughter get married and my son go to prom

I will be there when they need a hand, help guide them along.

I will tell them I love every single day

because cancer came so close to taking that away.

I treat each day as if it is my last and look to the future

but don't forget my past.

I have the scars to remind me, what could have been

had I not fought so hard, had I not gotten the win.

Now my eyes are wide open, all smiles for me

because I beat cancer and that is my story.

Poem #2

"I Wish I Could Run"

As I sit in his office,

alone, cold, and numb

I hear what he is saying,

but I wish I could run.

He says there's a beast growing deep inside my chest

he says he can save me or at least try his best,

I understand what must be done,

but why is this happening, I am only 31.

I stare out the window no feelings at all

my life flashes by, the room becomes small

I think of my family, my babies, my friends

all the things I did wrong, I need now to make a mends.

He says we'll fight this battle, he says it can be done

I hear the words he's saying, I wish that I could run.

I sit in a chair, poison going in my vein

I watch the bag empty, I try to hide my pain.

I look at the people sitting just like me

all walks of life, all ages I see.

The faces are pale, they look frightened and weak

Cancer doesn't care that you now feel like a freak.

Days now spent sick, bald, and sad

I look in the mirror, now I feel mad.

My babies don't understand, my husband stays strong

I search for the answer of what I did wrong.

One year later he tells me I won

I heard what he was saying and I am glad I didn't run.

Poem #3

"A Love So Simple"

A love so simple, a love so pure

from the moment I met you, I knew I needed more.

I love the way you smile, the way you look at me

I love your little voice, and the innocence you see.

I love your blond hair, and those big blue eyes

I love that no matter  what, we will always have ties.

I love you both the same in every single way

I love the way we cuddle at the end of every day.

I love my babies, Gabrielle and Cole

a love that comes from deep within my soul.

Closing a book and writing a new one...

"It's not about what it is, it's about what it can become" -Dr.Seuss. For me, this blog has served as a therapist. A place where I could let my thoughts, my emotions, my fears, my anger, flow without being judged. A place where I would document every detail no matter how graphic, every thought no matter how unimportant it seemed to others. A place where I could write a story. A story about heartache, fear, loneliness, uncertainty. A story about me. A story that I am happy to say finally has an ending. This year will be the 3 year mark for me! I honestly can't believe it has been 3 years since this journey began. I can say with complete honesty now, I was certain in 2011 it was the end for me. I had no idea how strong my body was, how strong my will to live was. I had no idea what a blessing this would turn out to be. I sat a few nights ago and re-read my entire blog (I had it printed out into books for Gabby and Cole). I cried from the first post to the last! Reading it now, being in a completely different state of mind, I actually scared myself a little. I can see the growth I have made over the years. I am happy with how my life has turned out. I have decided it is time to close this book, put it away on a shelf. I did what I set out to do in 2011. I survived. I faced every single fear I have ever had. I have stared death in the face and am no longer scared of it. I have had to let go of things, place my life in the hands of doctors and just believe that some day I would wake up from this nightmare. It was a long journey and like all journeys there were bumps in the road and set backs. There were times when I thought "I can't do this", times when I wanted to throw the towel in. There were many months were I never thought I would be me again. I never would be able to look at my chest and be ok with it. I would never be able to put cancer behind me and move forward. I thought this journey would last forever. I know now how lucky I am, how much worse it all could have been. I may not have the same chest I did 3 years ago, I may not have the same hair I used to. I may be 30 pounds heavier then when this started, but the things I am walking away with, I wouldn't trade them for the world. I have a deeper appreciation for life, I have a desire and drive to see and explore what this world (not if you need a plane to get there) has to offer. I understand how precious our time is. I learned to trust people, to trust myself. I learned to accept things as they happen because I have no control of them. I learned things will work themselves out. The biggest and best thing I am walking away from this journey with is the feeling that I have made a difference. I talk to A LOT of breast cancer patients a day and when they tell me they got a port because of me, or they agreed to chemo after talking to me, or I am the reason they made it through treatments, I can't describe that feeling. That second of feeling like I was the reason someone felt hope, that feeling made every second, every tear, every pain worth it. Closing this book was a tough desicion for me. I have enjoyed writing this (maybe I will start a blog about "Bad Puppy"), I have enjoyed going back and seeing what really happened. Even though this blog means a lot to me, making memories with my family and friends means more. Thank to you everyone who has taken time to read my posts, pass my blog along, leave comments, etc.. I am so happy to say that Amy Lynn's Journey is over and it had the best possible outcome. This book may be closing but the big book, the book of the rest of my life is just starting and I am going to write the best possible story...

2 year SURVIVOR!

It has been some time since I have updated my blog, with my 2 year cancer-free-iversary coming up, I thought now was a good time. I have no new health issues to report, which is a GREAT thing. I have basically been busy living life again. It really took a long time to return to "normal" or at least my version of it. I can honestly say though, I like this version of me a lot better. That girl I was leading up to that day in 2011 is long gone. Living life and appreciating everyday as though it could be your last, or your last "healthy" day is a great way to live. I enjoy things I previously did not, I do things I previously did not, and I try and be the best that I can be every day. I understand now that I am not perfect, that's ok. My life isn't perfect, that's ok. I don't have a bank account with an endless supply of money, I don't drive the fanciest cars, I don't live in the biggest house, I don't have all the material things in the world, but what I do have is so much better than anything a green bill or plastic card could give me. I have my health, I have my amazingly smart, beautiful, loving, compassionate, hilarious children, I have an incredible husband who stood by me every step of the way, who carried me when I was too weak to think I could get by, who allowed me the space and time to be sad, scared, angry, and a thousand other emotions I went through. I have a beautiful circle of friends. Friends that I know understand me, friends that don't let me get caught up in thoughts, friendships that I know will last a lifetime. I have parents and in-laws that have supported me and my family through it all, I have a beautiful life that I would not have had if it were not for going through cancer. I feel so grateful for having gone through this journey.

"Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together". That is a quote I have on my desk at work. I have gone back to my old position and I feel really good about being there for other patients. All I want is for other people to see me, no matter what cancer they have, and think I can do this. I like feeling as though I am an inspiration, or hope, or even a person they can just let it all out with. Going back to my old position was scary at first, I really wasn't sure how I was going to handle the every day interaction. I could not be happier. Seeing the relief on people's faces, patients and family members, when they realize that I too have been there is priceless. I don't tell them I am a cancer survivor, I simply have a picture of Cole wearing a shirt that says "my mom is a breast cancer survivor". When people see that picture and then look at me, I just say "see this is 2 years later". I would not be able to help other people in the way I can now had I not walked the walk.

My crazy summer has been full of trips; the beach, Canada, Gettysburg, Dutch Wonderland, traveling for my husbands baseball games. Getting to do fun things like zip lining, getting a new puppy (Jake; a Chocolate Lab), the list goes on. These are things that I would have passed on in previous years. These are things that have made the best memories for me and my family. Again, these are memories I would not have had I not been forced to face my fears and realize that everything can be taken from you at any point. I think the best and biggest lesson I have learned is to forgive. Holding on to grudges and holding on to the past is only holding you down. People will come in and out of your life, people will make you angry, people will make you sad, being able to let go of all that is a wonderful feeling. Life is way too short.

"Smile like you've never cried. Fight like you've never lost. Live like you'll die tomorrow".