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Just writing that title made me smile and also want to cry a little simply because I am so thankful to get to be 42. Actually, I did both last night: Cory rolled over after midnight, said, “Happy birthday!” kissed me and then started to fall asleep. I, however, felt this huge gush of relief to have made it to 42 and, while I tried to hold it in (knowing he’d freak out), the tears started flowing, the convulsing sobs escaped and he bolted up, “Are you ok? What? What’s wrong???”

“I’m just… so happy… and thankful… to get… to turn… 42,” I eventually got out between the sobs  He didn’t quite believe me at first. “Really? That’s it???” he asked doubtfully. Really.

Not everyone gets another birthday and, while maybe you don’t have to bawl your eyes out over it, you should be grateful God is letting you have more time on earth with the ones you love. Yes, we may have more wrinkles, more weight, a bit more gray and not be able to do everything that once came easy to us – physically and mentally – but we are here.

I won’t bore you with a list of my blessings – although I will share that I am blessed to be writing this blog from a beach chair in the beautiful Dominican Republic:

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While here, I’ve been thinking a lot about how to make 42 one of my best years. Those who know me will agree I am a generally happy person with few regrets (like I wish I fed Nick better when he was little), but I do need to make some changes in my life. So here is what I will attempt (nice caveat, huh?) to do differently in my 42nd year:

  1. I am going to think about the things I put in my mouth and try to eat slowly. I’m a stress eater. A habit I must break if I want to continue to fit in my clothes. And I must get back to running (though my marathon days are over) and yoga or at least some exercise on a regular basis.
  2. I am going to continually remind myself what is really important. Not let myself get so incredibly stressed out (that I’m stuffing food in my face – flashback to #1), or feel like I have to be the first one in the office every day and login every single night. They say your best ideas and most brilliant thoughts come in times of absolute calm, and that’s why people should meditate and practice mindfulness. I love the idea but need a loooooooot of practice! And it’s not just that “me” time I have to make more of. I always want to see more of my friends and family – there is never enough of that. And that is what really matters.
  3. BUT I’m going to try not to feel guilty for not being able to do everything or see everyone. As you may have heard me say, guilt is a wasted emotion. And yes, I need to keep reminding myself of that. We are all better at giving others advice than ourselves.
  4. This year I hope to realize that I may not be able to change or save the entire world but I can make a difference every day even in the little things I do. (That’s what I dreamt about last night after my crying attack – trying to save the world. I failed. Sorry.) But seriously, did you see that ad during the Super Bowl? We can all turn off the faucet when we brush our teeth – and so much more – without shouldering the entire burden of world peace.
  5. Be present more. Stop looking at my phone so much. Don’t freak out when I’m disconnected. This vacation in paradise is helping me practice that. And yes, I may be spending more time online than I have in a very long time but it’s all reading my friends’ blogs and posts and news – fun stuff, not work!
  6. My most concrete resolution for myself this year is to be more responsible with my money. I am very blessed to have a great job that pays me well, and yet I still have a ton of debt and my son pays more attention to my 401k than I do. I am a smart woman and it’s time I stopped acting stupid about money. When I think how much money I throw away on silly things I want to slap myself. I’m not saying I can’t spoil myself or the ones I love – that’s why I work so hard (well, one of the reasons), but I need to know I really want something before buying just because I can. And I could probably make a bigger impact if I was more focused and thoughtful with my charitable giving.
  7. Along those same lines of thinking about what I am spending my money on, instead of scrolling Amazon for gifts (or myself), I am going to buy things from my incredibly talented friends and other artisans and small business owners like Melissa Houlihan’s designs, Jason Covert’s cool art and Sam’s aprons. And if I ever get another tattoo I’ll go to Larry DiGiusto. (Note: my mom’s my favorite artist and writer, but I still get her stuff for free. 😉 )
  8. And I will read what some of my eloquent friends are writing like Sue Stevens books, Arlene Lagos’ books and blogs like Champagne Thursday by Jess and Surgical Strikes 2.0 by Dan. I will also continue to watch my friends work like Jay in Fat, Mike in Yellow Brick Road, and the reality TV like Hollywood Medium by Duffy and Pit Bulls and Parolees by Jen. And can’t forget all that Cesha has worked on including the upcoming Ghostbusters and recent Black Mass (ok, I’m sorry, I’m not really going to see that – but would if I thought it would make a difference!) I could go on and on – I have so many talented friends – and I am going to support them more.
  9. Which reminds me of my own writing and my ninth and final (for now) resolution: I’m only going to say something if I’m going to actually do it. Like writing my book. Which one, you may ask? I did start 16 and Pregnant but haven’t gotten far. The road trip book can wait. I think the breast cancer book is the most important. Approximately one-to-two new people are referred to my blog every month, even though it’s been more than a year since I really stopped updating it. I get the nicest notes about how finding it has helper her/her mother/sister/friend through their battle. Imagine how many people it could help if I put it in book form and published it?

So that’s what I really want to do in my 42nd year: Slow down, breath, learn to relax, think more, do more selectively, get a bit smarter, appreciate and help others. Makes me smile (and not cry) just thinking about it! Thank you, Lord, for this 42nd year!

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I can’t believe it’s been so long since I last posted here! Well, I think I’ve found something to write about…

With fellow Running for Rare Diseases Board Members (Jessi, Kai, Phil, me and Andrew; Not pictured - Shay and Marissa) after all - except me - finished the Boston Marathon...

With fellow Running for Rare Diseases Board Members (Jessi, Kai, Phil, me and Andrew; missing: Shay and Marissa) after all – except me – finished the 2014 Boston Marathon…

Dear family and friends,

As some of you may have known I would do long before I consciously considered it, I have decided to officially join the Running for Rare Diseases Marathon Team as a runner in the 2015 Boston Marathon. (You should see my face every time I say or think those words – scrunched up in a combination of terror and excitement, with butterflies in my stomach and sometimes tears in my eyes.)  Others may be as shocked as I still am at my decision.

Why am I doing this, you may wonder? I joke that I’m only doing this so I can buy one of those Boston Marathon jackets, but that’s not it. Ok, maybe a little bit… but if you have attended any of our Running for Rare Diseases Team events or read our blog, you know this isn’t really about running, even for a wicked cool jacket. Yes, I know I’m going to have to run (gulp) 26.2 miles on Marathon Monday and do the hundreds of miles of training in the next 100-plus days, but that’s just a formality. This is about people. Inspiring, strong, caring people. The people in the Running for Rare Diseases community. The rare disease patient partners and their families who live with challenges much more daunting, scary and personal than any sporting event, and who do so with the most positive, hopeful attitudes every day. And all the past team members – especially those who, like me, aren’t fast or born runners – who make this more like a family than a work team.

I want to continue throwing fundraisers for our NORD/Genzyme NIH Undiagnosed Diseases Program Fund and help those people out there who have been struggling for years without knowing what disease they have, and don’t even have enough money to have the initial testing done to get them into the program. I want to help them on that first step to finding an answer. And I want to get to know my own patient partner and his or her family. I want to follow the instructions on connecting that Shauna, a 10-year-old patient partner, gave us at our kick-off meeting: exchange lists of 10 things about you with your patient partner; make funny faces together; and get on the same level. Without question, I know this will be the highlight for me.

Yes, I, Amy Lee Tull Atwood, one of the LEAST athletic people ever, am running the 2015 Boston Marathon. I wonder how long it will be before those words roll off my tongue without cringing, and feeling slightly ill?

My friends Gail and Anne, both members of our Running for Rare Diseases community, asked me at the team kickoff meeting, “So are you running the half marathon?” I shook my head, scrunched up my face and whispered, “Nope. I’m running the whole thing.” They joined in my shock and excitement. I honestly don’t know when I crossed the line from “Never ever” to “How can I not?” I know that at the dinner on April 19, 2014, I was still strong in the denial I’d maintained since getting involved with the team in January 2011. I think it was just two days later at the Marathon that I cracked. There I realized that while I have done practically everything I can for this team as a Board Member, part of me still felt like a bit of a fraud or an outsider (even though Jessi said I am one of the cool kids and I was in some of the team pics). There were still things like team lists that screamed at me that I wasn’t really on the team. Most of all, while I actually felt lucky to get to know so many patient partners, I didn’t have one of my own. And this really hit home for me at Mile 14 when all the partners were holding signs for and eagerly awaiting their runner.

Some, like Tara, my parents and my teammate Beth, were nice and said, “Ok, but you don’t have to do it this year if you’re not ready.” Honestly, I feel like each year I have ramped up my commitment and this is the only next step. And I know that I will never really be ready. I’ll never have enough time and I’ll never be in well enough shape. I know in my gut that it has to be this year.

My mother also emphasized that I need to stop doing everything for everyone else, and to focus more on me. I thought about this a lot as I agonized over whether I could really do this. As usual, Phil, our team founder and leader, had some pretty insightful words. He said that this is actually the most selfish thing I will ever do. While yes, I will be running for my patient partner, running to raise awareness of rare diseases and fundraising, most of what I will be doing will be by myself. All of the running I will need to do for the next 18 weeks. The intense training, making time for runs four days a week and cross training two other days. Especially the long runs that will sometimes take me three, four, five or more hours, when it will be just me, my thoughts and my iPod. Since I can’t compromise work, that is all time away from my family and friends. And we all know I never have enough time for my family and friends even without training! (I am truly sorry for that – I so wish there were more hours in the day or days in the week…) I’m actually joining Nick’s gym so I can see him on a regular basis. (And run inside on the track since I despise the cold.)

I also question whether physically I can do this. While Tara and the team inspired me to start running, I honestly still can’t jog one mile straight – even after all this training. I still walk/run, and probably always will – which my dad reminds me is better on my knees, anyway. I am out of breath within minutes. Some of you know I am on a clinical trial for a breast cancer drug, so I checked with my oncologist to be sure I’m ok to do it, even though this drug can significantly reduce my white blood cell counts. (She said yes.) Which actually reminds me of yet another reason I feel like I have  to do this: because now I can. I think of how sick I was in 2012, when I couldn’t run a 5k. And I think of others going through cancer treatments and surgeries like I did: I want to show them that they, too, can get through it and be strong again. And I want to do this for those who weren’t as lucky as me…

But I am slooooooooowwww. My goal is to finish before they close the finish line. (Seriously.) The theory is that if you can run a half marathon, you can run a full marathon. So I promised Phil that if I could finish the BAA half (which was one of my 2014 New Year’s resolutions) in October under 3 hours, which is just before they close that finish line, then I would run Boston. My time? 3 hours and 3 minutes. Theoretically, that means (especially with the next 18 weeks of training) I should be able to finish the marathon in 6 and a half hours, and I know the finish line was still open at that point last year.

So how am I going to do this? Only with all of your support, understanding and prayers. Please don’t get mad at me for never being able to do anything or for simply being too tired to talk much. Know that I love and miss you, think about you often and am probably even having conversations with you in my head while on my runs. (Yes, this really happens. I think you all know way more than you do and I imagine what’s happening in your lives!) And when we do talk or write, please don’t mind that much of my side of the conversation will be related to Running for Rare Diseases and my training, since that will pretty much be my life outside of work.  And yes, of course, probably most of my Facebook posts, Tweets and Instagrams will be related to this, too… And I would really love to see you at Mile 14 where our patient partners, team members who will be running Providence, colleagues and other friends and family will be gathered to cheer our team on – or anywhere along the marathon route on April 20 – I will be one of the very last runners so you shouldn’t have a problem seeing me…

And yes, this means I will be hitting you up for donations. As daunting as running 26.2 miles is, raising the minimum $3,500 for the  Genzyme/NORD NIH Undiagnosed Diseases Program (UDP) Fund will be just as challenging. Please know that if you intended to get me a gift for Christmas and/or my birthday, I’m making it super easy for you! I seriously, seriously do not want anything for Christmas or my birthday except donations to my Running for Rare Diseases page (except you, Cory – you’re not getting off so easily, and anyone who is actually making me something homemade like mom). So if you planned to spend $5 on a gift for me, please instead donate $5 to my fundraising page: https://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/AmyAtwood/2015-running-for-rare-diseases-team No donation is too small. Every cent counts.

Thank you for your love, support (emotionally and financially if possible), understanding, prayers, positive vibes and patience with me through April 20, as I embark on this most selfish (and crazy) thing I’ve ever done.

Amy

p.s. Andrew (who is running the Paris Marathon for our team) and I are throwing a joint fundraiser – the first Running for Rare Diseases 2015 Marathon Team fundraiser – a Pub Night, on Friday, December 19 from 6-9 p.m. at the Lansdowne Pub near Fenway Park. Tickets are only $10 in advance or $12 at the door and include a raffle ticket and free apps (while they last – come early)! Hope you’ll join us!

p.p.s. Join our Running for Rare Diseases community (if you haven’t already) by subscribing to our blog, liking us on Facebook, following us on Twitter, Instagram and watching/sharing our Boston Marathon and Rare Disease Day Relay videos.

Thanks!

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I thought I could get away from cancer. I thought by ending the blog, I wouldn’t think about it every day. Ha! Once you’ve been diagnosed, it doesn’t matter that you’ve finished chemo, radiation, multiple surgeries and been declared “cancer free.” It is always there. With every strange feeling, with each routine health screening, with every glimpse of myself with hair! And now, as many of you know, cancer is my ‘day job,’ too. I wondered if working for an oncology organization would be difficult or depressing, but it’s really the opposite: it energizes me and gives me hope that we can really find a cure (or, realistically, multiple cures)!

If you read my last blog entry, you know that my heart broke over the recent death of a breast cancer sister. This must stop! Help us create happy endings by funding the research needed to find better treatments and cures for all cancers. There are many ways you can help:

Join our fabulous team!!!

Join our fabulous team!!!

  • If you live too far away, are busy that day or just prefer to donate rather than walk, while we will miss your company, we would so appreciate any donation. You can donate by clicking here – and please don’t forget to complete your company’s matching gift request, if applicable!
  • Do you need anything for your kitchen? Shop one of our fundraisers and not only can you get what you need, but a portion of the proceeds will go toward our walk!
  • Have an idea for a fundraiser that can be done by Sept. 21? Please e-mail me and let’s talk!
  • Finally, another of my very favorite events of the year is coming up: Runway for Recovery! Join us on October 16 at the Revere Hotel for my (I never thought I’d say this) modeling debut! Buy tickets here, come cheer me and the other survivor models on, and you will be helping children who have lost their mothers to breast cancer, as well as providing opportunities for health care providers who care for such patients. It’s such an inspiring night – a true celebration of life, sisterhood and survivors.
Last year, I volunteered with Genzyme friends for Runway for Recovery - and excited to be modeling this year!

Last year, I volunteered with Genzyme friends for Runway for Recovery – and I’m excited to be modeling this year!

Please remember, together we really can make a difference and help find a cure! Thank you for helping us kick cancer!!!

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It’s 2014. No one should die of cancer. It has to stop.

Almost exactly two years ago, in August 2012, a friend from high school messaged me and asked if she could pass my blog on to her cousin, who was also battling breast cancer. Of course, I told her, that’s why I write this – to try to help others through it. “Thank you, Amy,” my friend replied, “She just read your first blog and is crying her eyes out… she can relate and feels like no one understands.”

It wasn’t long before my friend’s cousin (who was always very private, which is why I am not using her name) and I became friends on Facebook, and then exchanged messages. “I can relate to your blogs so much!!” she wrote. “Thank you for sharing your story. I would love to be able to meet you someday. Good luck with everything! We seem to have similar stories. I am currently getting my second round of chemo (the strong stuff!). I started last March w/chemo for 12 straight weeks, had a radical mastectomy (right breast) in June and now I have 4 of these absolutely sucky chemos. After this is over I need to have radiation. Sometime next year I will have reconstruction. Stay strong & positive like you have been!”

Yes, we had similar stories, even a similar timeline. But, for some reason, I am here and she is not. She passed away yesterday. My heart is broken. It’s just not fair!

We exchanged a few more messages after that first one, sometimes she commented on the blog, or a picture, but we never got to meet in person. I naively thought she was, like me, on the road to recovery. I had no idea she had gotten sick again until 10 days ago when my friend messaged me:

“Amy, I just wanted to thank you for being such an inspiration to me and my family… especially my cousin  who has battled cancer. Your blog really helped her on her journey. Unfortunately, her battle is coming to an end but I just felt you should know that many a days you helped her get thru it. My love to you and your family!!”

I was shocked. Horrified. But her story was similar to mine??? How could she be dying??? She’s a mom – what about her kids, and everyone who loves and needs her??? But that’s how this miserable disease is. It doesn’t care if you have kids, are happy, love life. Rich, poor, whatever. And the fact is, you can never be sure you really beat it – it can come back at any time.

So now I’m going to go cry some more. For this life that was taken much too soon, and for all who loved her. And I’m going to be even more thankful now than ever for every minute that I get here on earth. I realize how truly lucky – so blessed – I am to still be here today. We don’t all get happy endings, no matter how much I wish we did…

 

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If you read my last blog entry – Vanessa’s reflections – you know I started this list last month. So now I’ve been 40 for almost a month rather than 9 days, but other than that, everything else still applies…

I have been 40 for exactly 9 days now and it was just when writing that headline that it started to sink in. Wow – I’m 40! There’s just something so different when you write it versus when you say it… Anyway, I won’t dwell in awe (at least not here). I’ve learned a lot in my 40 years – especially the last two spent in the cancer world – and thought I’d share some of it here. No, none of it’s brain surgery (and much of it’s splashed in pretty graphics on Facebook posts), but sometimes it’s nice just to be reminded of the simple things we all, hopefully, eventually come to realize. So here are 40* things I’ve learned in my 40 years:

  1. Smile. Even when you want to cry, scream, throw something, hit someone. Seriously, just smile. It does help.
  2. Don’t overanalyze. Anything. Men/women, doctors’ faces, actions, words, whatever. It’s doubtful you’ll figure out what they really think/mean/intend anyway. Why waste your time?
  3. If you don’t know, ask. Ask anyone anything. It’s the only way you have a chance at discovering the truth. And it’s the best way to learn.
  4. Never stop learning. Take a class, read a book, go to a seminar, join a club. I’m going to learn French (for real this time). And maybe even how to cook. (Nah, maybe I’ll leave that one to Cory.)
  5. There are at least two sides to every story. Even the one I’m telling right now. We all come at things from different perspectives, so can rarely see the full pictures ourselves. (Like Nick says I cook better than I give myself credit for, but I wouldn’t win any contests.)
  6. Speaking of – did you know that you have to enter contests to win?! That includes the lottery. Which probably explains why I haven’t won.
  7. It can take longer to convey your thought in 140 characters than it can in 500 words. (Just ask Jessi!)
  8. Listen. To everyone. Think about what they say. Consider. Absorb. Don’t just rush to respond, explain or prove your own point. Sometimes we need to just listen.
  9. I know that takes patience. Patience is truly a virtue. One I’ve often admitted in this blog that I don’t have. (Just ask Nick – he will confirm this.) But I am trying. If you see me taking lots and lots of deep breaths, you’ll know I’m trying to be patient. It definitely doesn’t come easy to me…
  10. Keep breathing. Literally and figuratively. Yes, there are some things beyond our control in this area – like getting the cancer diagnosis at 38. But there are so many things we can all do to improve our health and that will help us breathe a little easier – especially when walking up many flights of stairs!
  11. Any day can be your last. Or your loved one’s last. So make that day – and every day – count.
  12. Tell people you love them.
  13. Don’t hold grudges.
  14. Spend your time where it truly matters – with the people you love. Yes, we all have to go to work and other obligations, but…
  15. No one really cares if your house is clean. Probably not even your mother. She’d much rather you visit her than stay home scrubbing the tub.
  16. We don’t have to do everything for everyone. Even when we want to do it all, it doesn’t mean it’s the best idea – or even physically possible. So…
  17. Learn to say no. It’s really not a bad word. It’s not even four letters. You can say it nicely: “I’d really love to but…”
  18. Learn to ask for help. Or at least accept help when it’s offered. I was struggling to lug two suitcases and a giant purse the other day when a guy offered to carry one. What did I say? “No worries, I’ve got it.” Why? Why did I say that? Accept the help, Amy!
  19. Be kind. (That means to yourself, too!) Even when others are not. You never know what is going on in someone else’s life.
  20. Share. Share what you learn, share your experiences, share your thoughts, share your opinions. We all have a story to tell. And your story may just be the one that makes someone realize they’re not alone. That’s why I write this blog. If it can help just one person, it’s worth it.

*Disclaimer: I have learned more than 40 things in my 40 years. This is just a sampling of some of my favorite things I’ve learned, not an all-inclusive list.  And yes, I realize there are only 20 above. The final 20 will be in the next blog – an exciting two-part series! 😉

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My friend Lisa had her first chemo session at Dana-Farber yesterday. I think I was more nervous for her than I was when I went through it! There was no need, though, as she is one of the bravest, most positive people I know. There is no way she’s going to let this stupid cancer mess with her and her fabulous family. Frankly, cancer chose the wrong woman when it entered her cells.

But because I was nervous, I wanted to make sure I passed all I learned through my experience on to Lisa. Not wanting to forget anything, I made a list (on a bright pink post-it note, of course):

Lisa

  • All different
  • Tired
  • Food tastes
  • Eating/weight
  • Eyelashes
  • American Cancer Society (Wig website/Look Good, Feel Better)
  • Wig fitting
  • Lymphedema (sleeve/massage)
  • Insurance
  • Nails
  • Super B vitamins
  • YOU

Pretty random, huh? That’s the thing – so many of the things that are a big deal in your cancer life, you’d never expect. And there is so much happening, so fast, so much to read and absorb, it’s hard to distill what you really need to know. So during lunch, I ran over to Dana-Farber to sit with Lisa and download what I found to be the most important, like…

  • The all important disclaimer that every single person is different. Everyone’s body reacts differently to things – while my arm would get cold while the poison traveled through the IV into my veins, it didn’t bother Lisa. While I loved having my girlfriends at every chemo session (kind of like Sex and the City / Hospital Episode), she may prefer to be alone or just with her family. I was really lucky and didn’t get as sick as I expected from the chemo, and hopefully Lisa will be the same, although I have friends who didn’t want to do anything but sleep through it.
  • You can’t anticipate if you’ll lose or gain weight. Right after my first chemo, my mouth got the metallic taste and I thought for sure I’d hate food and lose weight (yay!)… but of course that only lasted a couple of days, my taste buds returned and food was what made my nausea go away. So of course I gained more than 20 pounds. But you know what? It didn’t matter! My mantra was “whatever makes me feel better” – which included food and retail therapy. And yes, I’m still losing those last couple pounds and trying to pay the credit card bills, but heck it was worth it, because those things made me feel better.
  • Part of that retail therapy were my many wigs, which I passed on to Lisa yesterday – and encouraged her to let her children play with, to help them get used to the idea. She texted me last night that her youngest put on her Little Mermaid dress with the red wig – love it!!!
  • Along with the bald head, I reminded her that EVERY hair on her body will fall out – not just those on her head. I encouraged her to relish the time that she doesn’t have to shave, as it will be back before she knows it. And I also warned her of what was most traumatic for me: losing not my eyebrows but my eyelashes… I was so happy the day they started growing back!
  • Yes, the stupid cancer can do a number on your self-esteem, but it’s so great that there are programs out there like the American Cancer Society’s Look Good, Feel Better program that not only teaches you how to apply your makeup (including creating eyebrows after yours disappear), but gives you a fabulous bag of goodies! A must to take advantage of.

I could’ve gone on and on, but knew I could never tell her everything, and didn’t want to overwhelm her, especially during that first chemo session. (Luckily, Lisa is happily married, or I’d have had to give all my “single cancer girl” tips, too! 😉 ) Really, everyone who goes through it has a different experience, and all we can do is pass on our experiences, hope the tips help you not feel like you’re the only one going through this and reduce the surprise of things people didn’t warn you about. And that’s the number one thingto remember: it’s all about you.

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I wasn’t going to post about #GivingTuesday. To be honest, I was a little annoyed with all the e-mails that flooded my e-mailbox and solicitations that filled my actual mailbox the last couple days, all begging for my donation. It’s not because I’m a scrooge (although that could be debated) or anti-giving (you KNOW that’s not true), rather because I think giving should be done all year long, not just one day in December. But that’s not what I’m writing to say.

Today one of my friends from high school repeated what I went through just over a year and a half ago: she went to Brigham and Women’s for a double mastectomy because just a few weeks ago, the day before her 40th birthday, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Not what you plan for 40. Since that day, I have been trying to help her the best I can, answer all her questions, explain to her the reality of what to expect, fill in the details that no nurse or doctor can tell her.

And my heart breaks for her, and her family. I know she is strong, and not only is she going to beat this, but kick its ass, just like another friend from high school is doing right now, busting her way through radiation. (Yay Bonnie!!!!) It’s because her life is now changed forever, and change is never easy. And because this is a never-ending journey that’s going to have a lot more downs than ups for a little while. And that little while will seem like forever…

But she is very similar to me in many ways. She is an incredibly strong and determined woman. She told me from that first day that she was going to kick this and was already ready to have the double mastectomy. She is naturally positive – which is so great not only for her, but her kids and husband. The more she can remain positive, so will they. And, I think tied with the optimism for most important,  she has an incredibly large and loving support system. They will get her through this. I know I never could have gotten through this without all of you…

And I also don’t believe things would’ve been nearly as easy for me if I’d been anywhere else but Dana-Farber and the Brigham. I’m confident we’ve both been in the best hands there. So that is what is compelling me to write on this Giving Tuesday. Maybe you don’t spread your giving throughout the year. Maybe today is your day. If it is, please consider giving to Dana-Farber and The Jimmy Fund – you can even support them by holiday shopping in their giving catalogue. Or, another great related organization that could really use your support is Bright Pink, which is focused on educating and empowering young women about breast and ovarian cancer.

Honestly, there is no shortage of needy and deserving organizations to give to today, or any day. Put your money where your heart is. Think about what really matters. Happy #GivingTuesday.

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