Hello, dear friends! I apologize for the long delay in updates. It’s been bonkers-busy around our house as we approach the end of the school year loaded for bear with club soccer games, lacrosse games, the school musical, talent shows, Spring Sings, and a few trips sprinkled in here and there. I’m also feeling strong enough that I’m now working again full-time and am grateful for all my old & new clients who have made the transition so vibrant and fulfilling.

You may be gleaning I’m feeling back to my old self and am finally gliding into the homestretch of treatments and surgeries! In February, my radical hysterectomy (removal of ovaries, fallopian tubes, cervix, and uterus) went beautifully, and I’ve had very few menopausal symptoms since I’d already been in a chemo-induced menopause for almost a year… a wonderful small victory in the grand scheme of things.

I will continue immunotherapy infusions every three weeks through June as a preventative measure for recurrence (my type of cancer, combined with the BRCA1 gene mutation has a high risk of recurrence within the first two years), and I’m down to the third of three surgeries – my reconstruction – on May 2nd. Whew! What a ride it’s been.

It's difficult not to become reflective as I near this journey’s end… though I gratefully will remain changed forever in many ways.

For example, we are coming up on the one-year anniversary of my diagnosis: April 20th. I’ll never forget the feelings that washed over me as I stood in line at the UPS store hearing the words: “You have cancer.” In an instant, my mortality flashed in front of me, like an out-of-body experience, as I pictured horrible mental images of Henry without a mom and other topics I will not articulate. I think it’s probably pretty normal in those moments, but terrifying, nonetheless.

Another milestone is May 8th… my first chemotherapy infusion. It happened two days after Henry’s 8th birthday party. I remember the weight of breaking the news to Henry, then weirdly transitioning to his birthday party… all while juggling MRIs, echocardiograms, PET scans, lymph markers, chemo classes, port placements, and endless zoom calls as we did our best to educate ourselves in the world of breast cancer like we were cramming for a college final. What a bizarre time.

But the greatest reflection of the journey is a profound realization that it was, at every corner, a sacred one, steeped in divine experiences and a peek into heavenly reassurances only reserved for the few who lock eyes with their mortality in one way or another.

It’s why many people consistently report that cancer has been their greatest gift.

And I completely concur.

For me, the chief insights came at the intersection of authentic grief and an assurance that I was being upheld by Love. It was at this delicate intersection that I found a peace and joy beyond my circumstances… which then created flow in my body rather than resistance. And, I believe, this is a vital component to helping our divinely created bodies do the work they need to help us heal.

A friend once told me, “Cancer happens when you either have something in your life you need to get rid of, or something in your life you need to learn.”

I can pinpoint both a traumatic life experience and a lesson I couldn’t seem to otherwise learn that I believe was the tipping point for my cancer.

If this is true – and research indicates that it often is – then your response to it is vital to your healing.

Something I’ve been pondering throughout this experience is how I can support others – cancer and otherwise – on their own sacred journeys of healing, particularly as it relates to the mind/soul component of healing, which, to me, doesn’t get enough press.

On the other hand, I don’t want to live the rest of my life tied to the “cancer survivor” label. Because the story I have to tell isn’t actually about cancer… it’s about the beautiful, unique ways I was rebirthed on the journey. That’s what I want to focus on. That’s the point of it all, anyway.

It’s still percolating through more quiet time and prayer, but I’m working on a support platform of this nature to help, as I’m able, walk alongside others in their sacred journeys to find that beautiful intersection of authenticity and true hope.

The Messi Game

Well, it’s official. Each of us – Bob and I included – are die-hard Messi fans now! It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience to see Leo Messi (the GOAT of soccer) play in L.A. on February 25th as Inter Miami FC played the LA Galaxy. We arrived early and had a blast at the lively pre-game party (backdropped by fun, loud game music) that offered bounce houses, face painting, and several small-court pickup games for kids.

Henry jumped in on a game of older kids and played hard for a solid hour before we could peel him away to enter the stadium. Over twenty thousand people came unglued when Leo Messi walked onto the field. Henry had never experienced a collective energy like that, and he was beautifully swept away in the whole experience. Messi capped the game off with an incredible goal in the final two minutes.

Seeing a sea of pink #10 jerseys (Messi’s team color and number) by little boys of all ages, shapes, and skin colors was a magnificent prism. Sports – and soccer/football, in particular – is one of the most universal human experiences that rise above labels and create inspiring connections. I love that Messi has become such a prominent role model with his work ethic, perseverance, humility, and incredible talent.

It was the perfect way to celebrate getting through the last year as a family.

Henry’s 9th birthday is May 4th. His chosen party will be a soccer game with friends and classmates at a nearby soccer field. The teams he chose are Al Nassr (Saudia Arabia FIFA team featuring Cristiano Ronaldo) and Inter Miami FC.

Guess which jersey and number Henry will be sporting?

A few concluding thoughts for the week:

• My final reconstruction is scheduled for May 2nd at UCLA main campus.

• Thank you for your prayers on the side effects of immunotherapy, which will continue through June. The negative effects have been extremely minimal!

• I would love your continued prayers for direction and guidance into this next phase of my life, particularly as it relates to some form of support to others on their cancer (or other trauma) journeys.

• Thank you for your continued love, prayers, and donations of support for Lilly’s cancer journey. She has seen some miraculous improvements but still has a long way to go.

• Please add Nedra Johnson to your same lists. Nedra is a dear friend who runs the Arabian Horse Riding Academy where Henry has taken lessons. She was diagnosed recently with uterine cancer and is still awaiting PET scan results while she prepares for surgery on April 17th. She is in the good hands of Dr. Kass but needs continued support to offset the costs of her businesses (horses still need to eat) when she is unable to work due to surgery and chemo.

One last reflective thought on this past year… I’ve spoken a lot about my belief in the importance of a good head space to optimize healing. One core component of accessing that divine intersection between authentic grief and hope is the powerful element of a strong community around you. Your love and support in a myriad of ways has lifted me and my family on wings over these last twelve months. In a world that overuses the word “love,” it has been a humbling and beautiful reminder of just how powerful Love – and the love of a community ­– really is.

Thank you for coming alongside us on this sacred journey.

In humble gratitude,

Evie