Loving London and Loving Life

The past two days in beautiful London were utterly brilliant. The weather was perfect, the food was delicious, and the sights of the city were fantastic, as always. We've covered quite a bit of ground. We've visited many museums: the National Portrait Gallery, the British Museum, the Tate, and -- this one is mildly embarrassing -- the Clink Prison Museum. We've walked along the Thames, passing the London Eye and The Globe Theater and everything in between. We visited St. Paul's Cathedral (where Will proposed to me) and Buckingham Palace, and enjoyed the gorgeous Green Park and St. James Park. We've dined on Italian food in Notting Hill and Indian food in Covent Garden. We saw a play called Ghost Stories last night (yeah, that was my choice), and we're seeing Billy Elliot tomorrow, but only after we're treated to fancy afternoon tea (a surprise present from my dear bestie from the UK, Ruth). 

I'd say London has been very, very good to us.

But there are two things in particular that I'd like to share with you, two special moments that stopped me in my tracks and really made me think. Both things happened today.

The first moment happened when I walked into St. Paul's Cathedral. A service was underway, but the guards allowed people to mill around the back and welcomed everyone to sit in the congregation and join in the fun. I walked around the back for a bit and came upon an area where candles could be lit for special intentions. Just looking at all those lit candles and thinking of all those special prayers made me remember the hundreds of people who had lit candles or said special prayers for me. I knew that my friends and family had been pulling for me over the last several months, but actually seeing those candles made the power of that idea -- the idea that hundreds of people were praying to God to take care of me -- really hit home in that moment. It was incredibly moving, and I lit a candle to thank my Creator -- and all of those who prayed for me -- for making sure that I got through my cancer-killing adventures safe and sound.

The second moment happened while I visited the "Living and Dying" exhibition at the British Museum. The exhibition highlights many ways our culture and others deal with sickness and death, and not all of it was unfamiliar to me. There were pictures of a man right after his surgery for colon cancer, and two years later right before his death from the same disease. There was a picture of a little boy with the telltale bandage over his chest that could only indicate a port-a-cath. And there was a portion of the poem "Sometimes" by Sheenagh Pugh written on the wall. It hit me like a ton of bricks...but in a good way: 

Sometimes things don't go, after all, from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail, sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well!

I couldn't help but feel personally touched by the optimism driving these words. Some people would have thrown up their hands and given up at the mention of my diagnosis, but I never did and never would because I always believed that success was possible. Sometimes, no matter the odds or the danger, all goes well. Sometimes cancer is beaten to bits, health is restored, and celebrations commence.

Sometimes, my story happens.

Greetings from London!!

After an eventful flight (the woman in the row directly in front of my parents had a diabetes-related attack that almost grounded our flight in Canada), we got to London and did our best to shake that exhausting feeling known as jet lag. We decided that staying in our cute flat would probably lull us into a day-long nap, so we hit the streets.

And hit the streets we did. We walked our feet off, and by the end of the night when we enjoyed an excellent vegan dinner at Mildred's in SoHo at around 10pm local time, we realized that we had probably walked at least six miles. Jet lag is no match for the WunderGlo European Victory Lap!!

In those six miles, we hit up some of the best spots in London -- Covent Garden, Trafalgar Square, Westminster, the walk along the Thames from the London Eye to the Globe Theater, and one of my favorite pubs in the South Bank. I finally got that half pint of Strongbow, and it tasted incredible. That, my friends, was the taste of victory.

We're off for another fun-filled day in London which will undoubtedly be packed to the gills with fun. I'll report back soon.

On My Victory Lap

Well, dear readers, today is the day. My three nurses and I are off to celebrate my victory over cancer, and we're celebrating in style. Next stop: London! We've got a ridiculously exciting itinerary planned, with stops in England, Scotland, and France. Of course, I'll take you with me -- at least virtually. Blog posts will remain fairly regular, as will pictures of our European exploits.

And before I head to LAX and one of the coolest trips of my life, I just want to thank God, my family and friends, and Drs. Ramos, Lenz, and Sugarbaker for this day. The miraculousness of my recovery, especially on a day like this, is not lost on me.

Ready for Europe in super-HD!!

What a Lucky Soul

A couple of months ago, I headed to my second gym, the L.A. Athletic Club, for a meeting with one of the trainers there. I expected to be introduced to the weight and cardio equipment, pick up my complimentary gym bag, and call it a day. Instead, I met Vinnie, a trainer at LAAC and the founder of Lucky Soul Clothing.

He first noticed my bright yellow LIVESTRONG shirt, and innocently asked, "Are you a fan?"

"Oh, I'm more than a fan," I replied. And then we started talking. And didn't stop talking for an hour and a half.

It just so happens that the inspiration behind Vinnie's clothing line, Lucky Soul, is all about people beating the odds. Coming from a tough neighborhood and succeeding, sticking with a dream despite the challenges that come with it, and above all, achieving your goal against all odds.

As you might guess, my story and Vinnie's clothing line are sort of a match made in heaven.

For the last several weeks, Vinnie has been working on a special Lucky Soul "WunderGlo" shirt. It's Duke Blue (of course) and looks pretty similar to the shirt I'm wearing in this picture. Whenever you buy one of these WunderGlo shirts, a portion of the proceeds will go to one of three selected charities. Pretty cool, right? You can guess who is in charge of selecting these charities. :) 

Partnering with Lucky Soul is an exciting development to say the least. These super cool, super soft shirts are sweet, and Vinnie's commitment to philanthropy and sharing inspirational stories with the world -- instead of just selling shirts to make money -- is truly unique and admirable.

Lucky Soul is more than just a clothing line. I'm honored to be a part of it, and I'll let you know when those WunderGlo shirts are ready.

It Was A Gift

I know you’re going to think I’m a little bit crazy, but I’ve gotta tell you something: getting cancer was actually a good thing. Before you start thinking I have a death wish (clarification: I do not) or that I’ve been drinking something other than herbal tea (I always tell you when I indulge in wine or champagne, and today is not one of those days), hear me out for a second. It’s not that outlandish of an idea.

When you receive a cancer diagnosis, you’re immediately inducted into a club: the cancer warrior club. We all know the drill of chemotherapy sessions and CT/PET scans and surgery. We all know what it’s like to spend an entire day at a medical center. We all know what it’s like to be diagnosed with a disease that kills so many every year, every month, every day. The cancer warriors are given a dose of reality that is undeniably tough to take, but we persevere and we fight. We will do anything to survive.

Along with a daunting diagnosis, cancer warriors also receive a strange, hard-to-describe kind of power. Or at least the potential for power. We are given a golden opportunity to help and educate others, to empower those fighting the disease or caring for someone who is. We can even empower people without cancer in their bodies, families, or social circles. We are the wise ones, the living who have looked death in the face, and we have a chance to inspire others to appreciate their lives and take care of their bodies.

I have always wanted to help others in my life. That’s why I decided to become a lawyer, and that’s why I want to run for office one day. But the greatest part of my diagnosis is that I can achieve my goal of improving people’s lives right now, at this very moment. I can give advice on a treatment plan, or tell someone that they were born to beat the hell out of cancer, or raise money for colon cancer research...and make a tangible, real impact on people’s lives. Lots of people. Lots of lives.

Is there really anything better than that?

So, despite the sacrifices and challenges -- the 11 month hiatus from work, the loss of my ability to have biological children, the 13 rounds of chemo and 13 tubes attached to my body in the ICU -- I can only come to this conclusion about my cancer diagnosis: it was a gift.