Life changed for Bruce and for our family in those few seconds, hearing the simplest sentence bearing the most complex words, “You have cancer.”


The brain has a tendency to snap. Fight or flight kicks in and my head exploded with questions as they appeared like shards of glass...What will we do? How will we cope? How do we fight this? 


And that’s exactly what we're prepared to do. Fight. 


Bruce will lay awake at night forcing himself to close his eyes and focus on a day in the future - bright, happy and healthy. On those nights I'm startled that his gentle gesture of taking my hand in his, can fill us with strength. His squeeze is filled with hope.


It was suggested that our daily battle is a lot like putting out forest fires and it certainly feels that way every evening when we put our head on our pillow to get a few hours rest. There are heartbreaking doctor's visits that Bruce combats with humor. After all, there is everything to fight for. He can still make me laugh from deep in my gut, a place that mostly feels numb. As much as I am doing this for me; it feels good to connect, I am doing this for Bruce. He deserves every last ounce of good wishes, prayers and universal blessings. Please keep them coming.


There are days that the sun shining in the sky feels like an insult and crumbling seems the only solution. I've thrown a stack of plates in the sink and broke every last one - and it felt good. But as we all know, there are no shortcuts. I had a nurse tell me that, even if I want to stick my head in the hollow of a tree, I'll mostly likely stick it straight into a rat’s nest.


The best and only thing we can do is carry on. Get up, get dressed, hug our children, and face the day.


Thank you for sharing this journey with us, we wish you health and happiness.