change in path

Autopilot

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skyraysoflight9-16We’ve all experienced those moments of life altering, earth shattering pain. The one that forces you into your body, to awaken you from a state of cruise control. It comes in many different forms, at different points in our lives, all on a different scale, having a different effect but it is one that refuses to be anything but felt. At 16, it’s the break up with your first boyfriend, perhaps later a divorce. For a firefighter it’s going to a call only to be forced to watch a family watch their home be devoured by flames, to the EMT it’s responding to a fatal accident. To a soldier it’s pulling the trigger for the first time on another life, or perhaps watching one of his own men being taken by another. It’s the phone call of an unexpected death, the diagnosis of a disease, watching another’s life end before your eyes. It’s watching a child go hungry, die from lack of vaccinations or a fatal disease. It’s losing a job, the function of a body part, or the aftermath of a natural disaster. All of which demand the attention of the human emotions, as if jolted into the current reality, one where time literally seems to stop. The cruise control has been halted, from 60 to 0.

It is that slow drip of water in a pond, watching the ripples flow outward, affecting the mass, but the intensity remains within that first initial drop. A whirlwind of grief and questions, standing there looking at your life from a floor of shattered glass, unsure if it’s even your life you’re viewing. This ‘autopilot’ phase is one that jolts many, but often doesn’t truly affect, on a grander scale, those outward ripples. But, for those moments that the ripple does affect the mass, we reevaluate where we stand in life, how very small we are compared to the rest of this vast universe. We think about our days and how they’ve been spent, acknowledging that we’re truly blessed and fortunate to not have been directly effected by such tragedy. Instead, we make promises to rid our lives of excess baggage that doesn’t serve our evolution, and thank God for all he’s generously provided.
Often times, when we stand in this space, we realize how much of our life has been run on autopilot. How much we missed while going through the motions, only to realize it’s no longer an option to fix or mend, but to let flow through you, realizing the grip you have on this moment is nothing at all. The vulnerability of feeling on a deeper level, tears that won’t stop, anger that fuels, questions that may remain unanswered. It’s a space that for anyone that has ever felt it, never wants to be forced to feel it again, it instills a fear that we want to distance ourselves from as fast as possible. It’s one that never leaves, instead, only lies dormant. Only to return at the time of another reminder that autopilot is the exact place we aren’t meant to be. It’s during these times that we’re forced to reevaluate and question our very existence. Watching another endure such pain, knowing there’s no amount of words, cards or gifts that will replace what they have been or will be forced to feel and endure. It is in these moments, we make temporary promises as we mourn and truly do feel for those directly effected. We swear this is our eye opener, that we’ll become more focused on the things that make us truly happy, instead of the stress of daily life we’ve allowed to weigh us down. Instead of complaining, we’ll be more grateful, instead of fighting, we’ll be more compassionate, instead of blaming, we’ll be more empathetic of another’s viewpoint, instead of being devoured by guilt, we’ll let go of those we’ve allowed to pull us down. Because in these moments we see from a very different perspective, we see how precious and short our time here is, whether that’s 20 years or 80, it goes in a flash nonetheless. But just as quickly as it came, it often leaves. Because for those that aren’t directly affected, life goes on, and autopilot is what we so effortlessly fall back into. Getting wrapped up in our everyday lives of seemingly trials and tribulations, forgetting to pay attention, to feel or wake up from this deep sleep. Until the next ripple hits, reminding us once again that we’re human. These are the moments that are meant to break us, shake us and make us realize that this is our focus, this is a glimpse of what we’re here for, this is when autopilot is off, when we’re planted in our own bodies, grounded and reminded our days are far too short to be spent doing absolutely anything except what brings us joy. And the falsehood that we’ve been fed while on autopilot that this isn’t our truth, is the reason we’re forced to be redirected into what is.

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Noise and Static

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*Disclaimer: Please read at your own discretion. Preferably with an open mind 😉blog-noiseandstatic

I’ll admit I was less then happy when the only thing that would flawlessly flow from my fingertips was the entry “Rock Bottom”.  Now, I’m starting to see why – because it truly is the case for so many people right now, both locally and abroad. I’m a believer that the night is always darkest just before the dawn and that sometimes thing have to crumble in order to be rebuilt, to see it for the greater good and trust where it’s taking us. But that can be a tough one to hold onto as things seem to be progress. It’s hard not to take a look around and wonder what in the f*ck is happening to this world?!  It’s hard to overcome the fear of what’s next and what does it mean?! I think of it on a smaller scale with things happening around me, but it’s much larger then that and I think we’re all aware of that. Humanity as a whole is facing some shit right meow – shit that can’t be denied – shit that needs to be talked about, released and straight up dealt with!

However, I’m struggling with the way it’s being dealt with. In case we haven’t noticed – this blame game isn’t getting us anywhere. Whether it’s blaming our parents for a horseshit upbringing, another person for abuse inflicted upon us, the poor for our national debt problem, drugs/alcohol/addictive substances, Monsanto for poisioning us with GMO’s, Trump for his hate and discrimination, ISIS for killing thousands of innocent people, my sisters friends mother brother to a cousin for who the hell knows what – it seems to boil down to blame in some form! It comes down to pointing the finger in every direction except our own – and I’m more then guilty of this as I blame my addiction on sugar for the reason I’ve gained so much weight! ha

I’m not by any means trying to undermine what is happening around us, or the lives that have been directly affected by any of the above. This is real shit on every single level – and I’m grateful every day those aren’t my family members or friends that are directly affected by this violence. But, I feel that I need to attempt to try and put a different spin on what is happening. Hands down the most common mistake we all make, I’m just as guilty as anyone, is forgetting to stop and attempt to see things in a different light – from a different vantage point.

I’ve seen multiple posts, but have not, nor have any desire to watch the videos on who is claiming what or which side, I do not have any desire to watch someone gasp for air after he’s been shot, despite the reasoning behind it. I especially don’t have any desire considering there’s a little girl in the back seat, who’s life has been forever changed. So, I’m not going off of facts here and I’m not siding with one over another, I’m simply viewing this from some of the few opinions/responses I actually read. So, here are some questions I have that I’m just going to throw out there.

Question #1

Have you ever drank under age? Have you ever smoked weed? Have you ever done an illegal substance or drug? Have you ever not worn your seat belt? Have you ever driven with any amount of alcohol in your system that could’ve very well been above the legal limit? Have you ever urinated in public? Have you ever rolled through a stop sign?

If you have done any of these, then you too, have broken the law – and I’m willing to bet you’ve done it on more then one occasion. What is the difference between you and someone that has their name put in the paper or face on TV?  They got caught and you didn’t. Period.

Question #2

Have you ever had sex before you were married? Disrespected an elder? Used the Lord’s name in vein? Called another human being a name? Have you ever cheated – in any form, on homework, an exam or your significant other? Have you ever threatened someone’s life or dreamt about it? Despite how big or small – from your parents to your children – no matter how you choose to justify it, have you ever told a lie?

If you have ever done any of these, then you too, have been immoral – at least to the eyes of many, especially according to religious beliefs. What is the difference between you and “them”?

My point here is this (and this is something that I’ve learned within the past year about myself as well) that despite the caliber of bullet, what makes one less deadly then another? The amount that is fired, correct? It takes more rounds of a 22 to do the same damage of a 12 gauge. So, while some have larger weapons, inflicting pain on others in more obvious ways, there are even more people that do it in their daily lives, on a smaller scale. You see, that’s what we do – we all have the ammunition but we fire it differently. Most fire more frequently but because it’s of a less caliber, we can justify it. Why? Because we didn’t get caught, what – because we didn’t kill anyone, or I wasn’t that drunk! It was only 5 mph over the limit. It was just a white lie. I can bring that up because she did this to me in 2nd grade! Oh good, I’ll keep that card in my back pocket for next time he effs up. These are the subconscious things that we think – I know that, because I’ve thought them! I’ll openly admit that! Did I know at the time I thought them, no, probably not, because I self justified it – I felt I was entitled to it – I mean, besides – eff them, they’re crazy anyways, of course my reasoning is right!

Question #3

Have you ever put your life on the line – day in and day out? Have you ever feared walking out the door, never knowing if you’re going to come home to your children? Have you ever had to put on a uniform that made you a target to many? Have you ever had to put on a badge that causes more hate and avoidance, where people openly hate you, calling you a “pig” – taking slurs the same as many different other races do? Do you know what it’s like to love and fear your job all at once – every single day? Do you know what it’s like to be proud to protect your community, but knowing you’re possibly putting your life on the line to protect complete strangers? Do you know what it’s like to have to uphold a certain criteria to do your job, even though you’re fearful of what is happening out there? Have you ever had to show up to a door step to inform parents their child was just killed? Have you ever had to arrest someone and see how that changes their life, good, bad or otherwise? Do you know what it’s like to have to act and react in a split second – never knowing what that reaction may lead too?

I don’t – and I don’t think a majority of you reading do. And that also is unfair to judge! I have never, nor do I ever want too have to make a split second decision to pull the trigger out of fear, only to find out I may not have had the right to do so and cost someone their life. And I don’t care what color of a person that is, that decision is a heavy burden to carry, “right”, “wrong” or otherwise. I also can’t imagine being the spouse or parent of someone in uniform either, especially in these large cities that deal with a large amount of violence, living in fear every single day, wondering if they’re going to walk back through that door to your children. I am however, thankful there are people that are willing to do that for us! I mean one is hated for the color of their skin, another for the uniform they wear?

Question #4

Have you ever slammed on your brakes the minute you realized the car you’re about to approach is a cop, even though you knew you weren’t speeding? Have you ever either felt the need to smile and be especially nice to someone in uniform? Or, feel your blood pressure rise being in the same room, even though you know you aren’t the suspect, but feel as if they’re looking at you with suspicion?

Have you ever crossed paths with someone from a different ethnesicity and hugged your purse tighter? Have you ever seen a black man with their pants down with their ass half hanging out assuming they must be a drug dealer? Have you ever thought because they were wearing a veil or hijab they must be a terrorist? Have you ever encountered someone of another color begging for food or scrounging for change and thought ‘typical, on welfare, I’m pry paying for that’.

If any of these thoughts or reactions pertain to you, then that’s stereotyping and racism. The problem is, noone realizes they even do it because it’s something that’s been engrained in us from a child on, whether at home, school, media, friends etc. So although it’s clearly not something we’re aware of on a conscious level, it’s something a majority of us do! And these are a majority of the comments I see and hear and have heard for a long time! All these one liners we’ve deemed as acceptable to throw out there towards certain groups, from police to another religion to another color, to white trash!

Question #5 –

Have you ever done something stupid, ridiculous or foolish? Can you imagine being put under a microscope for it? Can you imagine that one idiotic move costing you your life, whether dead or behind bars? Imagine if every horseshit decision you ever made was held against you, plastered on every news station and thrown back in your face?

I for one have made plenty of mistakes, I’ve passed on the right side of the road, I’ve drank too much and put the keys in the ignition, I’ve drank under age, I’ve had sex before I was married, I’ve called other people inappropriate names, I’ve done alot of things that I’m far from proud of. I’ve had many of them held over my head and I’ve held many over others as well. There are many of these I’m not proud of, and some I am, because I learned something from them. It didn’t cost me my life, I wasn’t forever shamed and abandoned for them, I’m aware of them and attempting to correct them. So, again – do a small tally of your personal ‘stupidity’ and remember, part of this whole human experience is learning, not hating and bashing and further separating. The definition of perfection depends on the eyes of the one defining it, and it varies by a large scale depending!

WHY do we have to side with one or the other?! I mean really, for all the people complaining about I-35 being backed up because of protests, are you doing anything to help or defuse the situation besides sitting behind a screen complaining about it and blasting your opinion all over? That’s another thing we’re taught well to do – hide behind a screen – our children know this even better then we even do, it’s how they’ve been taught to communicate and fight! I mean, at the end of the day – this is a true and legit problem on so many levels, but I just can’t grasp why people think that by constantly screaming and yelling and posting and name calling (even though we’d tell our kids to not do that) that we’re solving anything?!  And whether or not you feel that this particular family deserved it over the next or because of their horseshit parenting skills they had it coming. Or the fact that because they didn’t have a job they were worthless to ‘us’ anyways, gives you the right to justify it, then I guess do whatever you need too to sleep at night. As for anyone still reading this – allow me to put a slight twist on this a little more. To someone (a child – because remember, we were all children at some point, that never asked for the circumstances that we were put into) that grew up in a home with parents as meth addicts and homeless, the fact that the only drug they do is smoke pot, even if it’s around their children, they feel that they’ve improved their life. For those that grew up in physically abusive homes, watching their parents fight to no end, beating each other or their kids – the fact that those kids came out of that home only having alcohol issues, but never touching their own kids, is an improvement from the environment in which they knew. For those that went through the system, being tossed from home to home growing up, never feeling as if they were truly wanted, accepted or loved, the fact that they can hold a part time job is more stability then they’ve ever known. Do you know what the difference between a majority of us (white folk, privileged folk, wealth folk, the middle class, whatever title you want to give us) is alot of us had someone to help us. We had a support system on SOME level, whether it was family, friends, a teacher, a coach, a minister – they had someone, even if for a brief time. Someone that showed them just a little tiny bit of compassion that sparked their fire. This is something that many of us take for granted and something that not alot of people, even people close to you, truly know. That is a privilege.

In conclusion:

Is racism a problem in this country? Yes

Is police brutality a problem in this country? Yessum

Do we need law enforcement to keep us safe since we can’t all just get over ourselves and get along? Yip

Do we need law enforcement next time we or our loved one is in an accident, injured or has a health emergency? Yup

Is law enforcement often disrespected and also stereotyped? Yippers

Do we need more slander against one or the other? Nope

Do we need to feel as though we have to choose a side in order to feel like someone? As if a FB post is going to save the whole damn world and erase what is actually happening and been happening? Nada

I’m not claiming to have the answers to these many messes, I’m really not. I’ve just been trying to think of a way to not join the debate, but attempt to help put things into perspective again, for people to just take a deep breath and remember something more then black or white, in uniform or out, upper class or poverty – at the end of the day – we’re all something to someone, we’re all human, we all have emotions and most are damaged on account of things you can’t even imagine enduring, standing on both sides of the line. So, maybe instead of non-stop judgement and finger pointing we just set aside the fact that yes, there are people, of every race and profession that can ruin it for the mass, for the most part, they’re doing their best, even if it isn’t your best, according to your standards. I’ll be the first to admit this is can be extremely hard to put into play and remember on a daily basis! But, maybe if we just attempt to become more aware of our actions that we put out there and how much they actually align with what we say and preach, we could baby step our way a little closer to peace and calmness. Maybe if we just attempted to focus on one tiny little thing we all may have in common, instead of pointing out the differences so quickly, we’d have more productive conversation. And maybe if those words do get said, like we all tend to do in the moment, we attempt to make them right where we can, while we can.

I’d just like to leave you with this – the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Maybe, just maybe – we can all put down our weapons, whether gripping a loaded weapon, pounding the keys on a keyboard or pointing a finger – and just try something outside of what we’ve always done, which is fight. That’s what we resort too every single time – we feel like we have to have our guard up, armor on – ready to fight. Maybe trying the opposite, just for shits and giggles, might be of more benefit. Just maybe.…

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Rock Bottom

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Blog- rock bottom chrome

Have you ever been there – that dark and deserted place, where only one person resides? It’s as if it’s covered with mirrors and despite which direction you turn, the only one you see is yourself – because you’re the only lucky SOB that gets to occupy it. First name Rock, last name Bottom – turns out she’s one deep ass hole! It doesn’t matter how you snowballed your way there, whether by choice, mistake or an outside circumstance that pushed you, the point is – you’re there. Many people have occupied this space, sometimes you’re aware of it, sometimes you’re not. the odd thing for me was, I didn’t see anyone there while I was on my trip! Perhaps because I was lucky enough to hit it at Mock 90 and had crashed and burned without even realizing it.

It’s like the morning after a tequila bender, waking up foggy, wondering where you are and who’s laying next to you and fuzzy on the details as to how they got there. Pfff – don’t act like you’ve never been there 😉

 It’s as if I was standing there seeing stars – not even realizing I was actually there. As I look up, I see all the amazing people in my life rooting for me – some cheering, some praying, some blowing kisses, some giving pep talks – but all there, patiently waiting for me to find my way out. And as I look up I want so badly to be where they are – but it seemed as if it was thousands of miles out of reach. Although I saw the light that they were standing in, the darkness that surrounded me didn’t come close to that speck. It was so fucking black – and even more scary – wandering around, stumbling over every thing possible, just to have made an exact circle right back where I started.

I dabbled in multiple medications, from cholesterol meds to antidepressants, narcotics to amphetamines – some worked great while others propelled me into insanity even faster! I loved vodka (ok, fine… I still do)  but I loved it to the point of oblivion every single night I didn’t have my daughter. I smoked more cigarettes in my 15 years of smoking then most do in 30, if it were cocaine, I would’ve been out of control. Give me an escape and I’d get lost in it – bury myself in it. I can’t imagine, if piled up and set in front of me the amount of cigarette butts, booze and medication bottles that would surround me! They served me, and they served me well for quite awhile. They were as close as I was going to come to a “fix” while in survival mode. And despite the people on the sidelines still cheering for me, I couldn’t clear my mind to see outside of the current circumstance I was in. There was an emptiness, a hollow hole that rested inside of me while I tangoed in the depths of rock bottom – one that could only be filled with temporary forms of satisfaction – anything and everything that sat outside of myself. Grasping – always grasping – for the next night out, the next guy, the next set of meds, the next cigarette – hoping eventually one of them was going to fill the void – fix meeee! Whether I was in a relationship or not, trashed or sober, feening for my next drag or inhaling a nice long one of a Marlboro – it was still there, perhaps to a less degree because I was preoccupied, but it hadn’t left – and it wouldn’t leave until I faced it.

To be honest, I had no idea what in the hell I was supposed to be facing! Perhaps I needed to modify my mannerisms, learn to be less insecure, maybe if I quit drinking, met “Mr. Right”, (which let’s be real, he could’ve been standing next to me the entire time and I wouldn’t have known), quit smoking, exercised more, had a flatter stomach, more toned arms, learned to be softer and less rough around the edges, learned how to do more ‘right’ things and less ‘wrong’ things  – maybe then, I would inch away from the bottom. Well, turns out I tried them all – and to a degree, it did inch away from me – but there was still this “dead space” within me that all these things couldn’t fill.

How many medications does one need to numb the sadness, hate and emptiness? How many bottles or nights out? How many cigarettes? How many men? How much masking? How much faking? How much does it take before you stop to reevaluate – just to realize the only thing still standing between me and that mirror, is – well…… you! It was me – all along – the one I was running from, blaming and hating, using the temporary forms of satisfaction, swearing the next thing was going to ‘fix’ me, ‘fix’ him, ‘fix’ them, ‘fix’ that, ‘fix’ it – and here I was. Right where I had always been – standing in a room full of mirrors, screaming for help – just to realize the only one that was capable of it was me. That was a bitch of a realization, one that – to be honest – I had little to no interest in ever facing!

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Siblings Tribute – Jamie and Kristy

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kristy collage 2

Brynn and Jamie both sent me their responses to the entry on the same night. It was quite astonishing how many similarities there were between their stories. Although the response has been overwhelming in regards to the tributes, it saddens me to know how many people can truly relate to this heartbreak. Either by enduring it themselves or watching someone close to them endure it. It’s painful in all realms, each in their own way. But at the end of the day, our hope is that those reading this have a greater sense of hope in knowing they aren’t alone in their grief, their support or their fight.

*Disclaimer: A box is tissues is recommended – you’ve been warned! 😉

You and your sister (names, background, ages)- who were you both pre-diagnosis?

My name is Jamie (Puetz) Groebner, I was 29 years old when my sister Kristy Puetz was diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer at the age of 37, she fought a miraculous 9 years before passing away by my side on February 21st, 2014 at 4:15 am at the age of 46.

Who were we??  Very stubborn red heads, always looking for a good time!!                  Growing up with 8 years between us, we fought about everything… she was in charge of me a lot since my parents both worked outside the home.  When she was mad at me she would often pinch my cheeks together with her thumb and pointer finger.  I hated it. I usually ran from her, down the street to John Deere where my dad worked as a parts manager, crying my eyes out with sore cheeks. I knew he would let me stay with him until he was off.

As we grew older, we found out fairly early on in our friendship that we did a lot of the same things regardless of the fact that we lived miles apart.  We liked the same music, we sang with emotion in the car, we were passionate about our friends and their lives.  We were social butterflies at heart – we loved to plan a party, loved to be the life of one, and couldn’t wait to hit a happy hour somewhere! And it wasn’t for the fact of getting drunk, it was because being with our friends and laughing was so uplifting and we loved that! We loved making memories with our family & friends.

What battles (disease, metastasis, how many times in remission/relapse) did she endure and for how long?

I worked in the Baldwin Building at Mayo Clinic Rochester at the time of her diagnosis. My supervisor at the time seemed so cold hearted by not allowing me to go to Kristy’s appointments. That day when my pager went off, I picked up my phone and instantly could hear the gasps in Kristy’s voice when she paged me, through crying gasps she breathed the words cancer; and I immediately went into panic mode, I left work and ran down to the second floor to the room she was in with our family physician. I told no one where I was going because at that time none of it mattered, I just needed to be with her. The search began the next day to find the primary tumor. It felt like time stopped after days of invasive tests and biopsies, she was diagnosed with Stage 4, Grade 3, Epithelial Ovarian Cancer. The tumor had grown the size of a cantaloupe on her ovary in her abdomen. Our family hit rock bottom once we were given the grim news. Surgery was planned for March 10th, 2005.

I think back to the morning of surgery. At the time, my husband Ryan and I were living in Mazeppa.  Kristy and I talked on the phone most of that evening, as she packed.  I met my parents and her at the hospital the next morning, and immediately started taking pictures of her because at that time, her Oncologist told her she had maybe a year, if not less to live.  I started documenting everything that day. The updates, the calls, the pacing, I remember that feeling of my stomach turning inside out, sort of the way it feels writing this, complete torture. The worst part – I had to attend a mandatory meeting with HR at work or I risked losing my job. In the middle of that meeting I started crying, I couldn’t believe I was sitting there and not with my family. I said something along the lines of ‘while all of you are worried about who’s doing what at work, my sister is in surgery’, (I may have said a few other not so appropriate words as well) but I was so upset. I walked out, ran back to Methodist hospital, thinking for sure I was going to lose my job.

I just made it back to her room when the resident surgeon came up to talk to us. They opened Kristy up from sternum to pelvic bone and searched through her entire cavity to make sure they got as much cancer as possible. My first reaction was to hug her, that’s when the tears fell. My parents and brothers were there, each of them walked away engulfed with their own emotion.  We heard the elevator chime… I can still see her rolling down the hall at 6pm. She was so swollen, the largest I’ve ever seen her, all of it fluid. We were warned she would look like this, however it was so hard to see her look so different, (in the operating room they inverted the bed to help with the positioning of her intestine so they could work on detecting all of the cancer) little did we know this would be the new norm of her many hair and body changes.

I started talking to her right away, telling her I loved her, and that they got it all… I’ll never forget her eye opening just a little and tears fell… she heard me loud and clear. That night I slept in a chair, not a recliner although I wished for one, it was a wooden desk chair, but I kept telling myself, the pain I feel from getting a bad night’s sleep is nothing compared to what she is going through.

The next day I asked for a bigger room and by the third day we upgraded to a larger room, and I finally got a sofa sleeper. We watched so many movies, when it was nap time she always told me to put in Legal Eagles with Robert Redford in it…. that usually had us both sleeping in minutes! I never left the hospital during her stay. I helped her shower which may have been a true test of sisterhood. 😉 She had 3 drains coming out of her abdomen and it took her a while to be able to stand up without excruciating pain. Until she had the drains removed and enough strength to stand on her own I would get part way in the shower with her to wash her while she held on to her drains, shaking in pain, crying for me to hurry. My tears silently falling at the situation in front of us.

She even had me make a photo guest book of all her visitors, taking each person’s picture as they stopped by or as flowers and gifts were delivered. I had them sign a get well note on each page where their picture would be, and we put it together after she was dismissed and before she started chemo. Through it all, there were lots of tears, and lots of laughs too. She made the best of it, and never let people think it was as hard as it really was.

Kristy started chemo 6 weeks later, in April of 2005. From there it was recurrence in 2009 revealed through a liver biopsy, followed by a different regimen of chemo. In January of 2011 it was discovered that she had mets to liver and in the right lower quadrant. That round of chemo had to be discontinued due to severe dermatitis. Then it was hospitalization for a small bowel obstruction, which was the first of a few to follow. By November of 2011, the Ovarian cancer showed up again in the CT of her abdomen and pelvis. More chemo, more hospitalization, more operations, more nausea, more struggles, more tears, more heartache, more fighting. This roller coaster continues on and off with multiple hospital admissions until there were no more options.

Explain what impact this had on you personally and how it changed both of your lives/perspectives, good and bad.

I lost my best friend. The first half of our lives we argued and acted as if we hated one another…actually I drove her crazy, yet all I could think of was being just like her. When it changed, we had a connection like I’ve never had with any friend. Only sisters know what I mean when I say that, and I don’t mean to say it in a bad way because I have some truly great friends who I care about as if they were my sisters.  But it does not compare to the bond I had with Kristy, one that was built long ago. The bond that holds our past, our childhood, our family trips, our countless phone calls, and an understanding of one another, our bond, was solid as any iron or stone. Unbreakable.

The treasures are the countless strangers, physicians and nurses who became our friends and the connections she made at the chemo, which is more like a gas station really. The countless beds and chairs stationed in one area where everyone checks in to get filled up on poison. Kristy though, she changed the tempo on Gonda 10… if you ever visited her there, you always had an idea of what room was hers. It was always the loudest!  And she didn’t like to sit in the chairs much unless she was only going to be there for an hour or two. In and out she’d say, I want to hit happy hour at Jonnys! And if her cycles ran longer than that she usually asked for a room with a bed, because the pre-meds would make her tired. After her nap you would usually find her up walking the halls with her IV pole checking on others she had met the week before. Sharing a joke, there was always laughter  or, her calling maintenance to come fix something she seen was wrong. Everyone loved her. She brought social hour to chemo and she made it better by just being there.  She yearned for hope from others yet she gained so much more.

Genetics is a huge factor. After three tries we finally found out why she got it. The Gene mutation BRCA1. If my sister wasn’t so aggressive in her fight and in her curiosity of ‘why me’ … we wouldn’t know.  And with that knowledge she has saved me by making me promise her I would get tested. To think all the while I was trying to save her, in the end she saves me. Wow – that is love!

What did this consist of for you personally – to recall being a cheerleader on the sidelines, observing, but being unable to save them? (Ultimately the trauma of being the survivor).

From day one, I researched, I did everything I could have done to save her. I called all over the world looking for the right clinical trial. Each one would get shot down by different doctors due to a certain chemo she had taken, or the numbness in her feet and hands, the length of her disease, the stage, where it had metastasized. Each time I thought I found one that might work I would send it to a team of doctors I worked with who were my backbone of soldiers with their medical education. They would compare her to the study and we would all determine what the outcome would be.  I, of course would not take no for an answer so I would enroll her, only to find out later she wasn’t a match. I needed concrete information to prove me just what they had told me all along. Her cancer sucked the energy out of both of us. Watching someone I care so deeply get knocked back down after enduring so much. Time and time again she inspired people by keeping that smile on her face, even when deep down, she was miserable.

The illness itself is exhausting. Her only chance was the poison that was pumped into her body, and she had to find the strength and courage to stay alive through fatigue, vomiting, pain and sadness. She just did what any of us would do. Fight like hell to stay alive. Because that is all she wanted, was to live, love and be happy. The worst part, the suffering in the end… let’s be honest – it is what it is right….suffering? The cancer starved my sister. Suffering. It produced road blocks in her gut and her gut stopped working. Suffering. She could no longer eat or absorb nutrients. Suffering. She had a peg tube placed in her abdomen to help relieve the pressure so she didn’t continue to vomit multiple times a day. Suffering.

Do you feel you’re meant to do something differently with your life because of her death? And if so, what is your hope/goal? How do you want her to live on? 

I was in nursing school prior to both my mom and sisters’ diagnosis. I was released on a compassion leave from the program when my mom was diagnosed with terminal small cell lung cancer on March 8th, 2013.  I returned in the spring after her death, however my return date was only a few days after my sister was discharged home on hospice.  I wasn’t able to finish then either and was given my second check mark, meaning I wasn’t allowed to return. If I were to ever be a nurse I needed to start the program over. I felt as though I failed my family, my goals, and it was so stressful, but my heart was broken. School didn’t matter as much as my mom and sister – nothing does when you’re in that situation. Thankfully, I learned enough in school to know how to care for them and understand what was going on with their bodies, and to feel confident enough to be able to follow their wishes to die at home. For years my role was to help Kristy fight her cancer, then I was helping my mom too.

I’ve definitely changed. I was by her side to help her, guide her, and cheer her on, lift her up when she was at her worst, give her hope, and coach her through. When she died my caregiver role was over. I was lost… numb. The pain was like a dagger being shot into my heart and twisted a hundred times.  Over time, when I thought that pain would subside… I would be forced to be reminded it hadn’t… it’s only gotten more bearable. She was such a good person, sister, daughter, and an amazing aunt to my kids, and nephews, and Godmother to my son. For months I felt like I was walking around in a fog. Then I had genetic testing done only to find I was BRCA1 positive too. One blow after another, the hits just kept on coming. Surgery, menopause, patches, depression, wow…

Each day I think about her, and I think about what little I have went through and how awful I feel one day and how great I feel the next. I can’t even fathom what Kristy went through but I will say, I have learned how she put on her mask each day and made the best of it. I return to the promises I made to her that I would stay involved in her fight. I want to continue to help spread awareness to others about this horrible disease.  I hope as time goes on I can actually stand in front of an audience and not cry while I talk about her because I miss her so much. My goal is to continue to be an advocate for others by staying involved in the organizations that she was passionate about.

Kristy was my best friend, my sister, my rock. I thank God each day that he chose us to be sisters…

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In closing I want to share a wonderful note sent to her from a physician friend of ours: it’s pretty powerful so be ready… 

First of all, please accept my condolences for your loss.  It has been a terrible year for the Puetz family.  It just a year ago when Kristy’s mother was diagnosed with cancer and died within only a few months.  Kristy had a different course, living 10 years with cancer but, in the end, it also took her from us. We are here today to mourn the death of Kristy but also to commemorate her life.

I met her through Jamie around the time of Kristy’s cancer diagnosis and over the years have had the privilege of being her friend. We talked about many things but more than any subject was about how cancer affected her life. She was treated initially with the hope of cure but when the cancer came back the first time she realized she would never be cured. Being told one has cancer is an enormous shock because it is our expectation that our bodies will keep on working. When young, we don’t even think about our health.  We have injuries, infections, and so on but we always assume it will be ok and we will recover. Being told one has cancer changes this forever because the body failed us in a way it was never supposed to. Even when cancer is treated successfully, we are never the same.

Kristy handled her cancer better than anyone I have seen. She seemed to always look at the better side of life and, although she had her down days, she went on with the expectation she would be well.  Some people put their life on hold thinking they will resume it when the cancer is cured. They forget to live when they should be celebrating every day they have. Kristy did this; she had an illness but she was well.

I ask my patients if they have a spiritual part of their lives. What gives their life meaning? For some it is their faith but for others it is family, work, health, hobbies, volunteerism, pets and so on.  Each person has a different answer, but the basic question is “Why do I get out of bed each day?”  Because we “have to” is not a good reason.  We get out of bed to do something, see someone, accomplish something; we look forward to the day.  When health and other life changes occur, what we have relied on to give us meaning may no longer be possible. This may be a crisis because these things serve as our energy supplies and are the reasons should want to get better. The ability to find new reasons when the old are no longer possible is resilience. Kristy was amazingly resilient and why she is an inspiration to many. She found new reasons to live as long as her body would allow.

Funerals are for the living. We honor the dead by coming together to mourn our loss but also to celebrate their lives, remember what they mean to us and to tell their stories. Funerals should also remind us that we too are mortal and someday people will gather to remember us. We all should live our lives with this in mind in all our dealings with others, in our coming and going, in how we behave, and determining what will our legacy will be? We need to live mindfully which means being mentally present each day. Some people spend much of their time thinking about the past with regret or anger. Some spend all their time thinking about the future worried about what will happen and our inability to control it. We don’t, however, spend much time thinking about the present, yet it is the only thing we have.  I think this is best said by Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 6 25-34.

25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life ? 28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

We also need to live our life remembering it is not our own. Our life is a gift of God and we need to be ever mindful of Him.  We should live our life seeking Him and his righteousness because some day we will answer to Him about what we did with our life.   

I am sorry I cannot be there with you today but my thoughts and prayers are with you in this time of loss.

Larry Bergstrom

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This is a speech that Kristy had written for the Corn on the Cob Day Pageant.

This is a shortened and modified version to bring out some of the humor that Kristy brought forth in her every day life. While highlighting some of her own strength and bravery – that she worked so hard to bring forth during her own trials and tribulations. I have no doubt it was God’s will to help her help others during their journey, along with her mindset and attitude – is what brought her far beyond that original grim diagnosis of less then a year to live. To be the light through the dark, the humor through the pain and the rock through the unsteady waves.

“I always thought when I lost my hair I would be devastated.  Well that wasn’t so bad….the thing I missed most about losing my hair was losing my eye lashes.  I just felt naked without them….the best part was I didn’t have to shave my legs and my skin was so soft! I know there really isn’t any “best” part about cancer but if I had to pick one that would be it!!

Cancer is scary, it’s a scary word to anyone and living with it isn’t easy, but I tell myself that I am not going to let this cancer change me or anything I liked to do.  IT WAS NOT GOING TO CONTROL MY LIFE!

 I was told that my life would be like riding on a roller coaster.  The cancer would be active then dormant, I’ll go on a break and so on and so forth.

Cancer is devastating………………………..to everyone touched by it.

I have learned a lot throughout this journey.  There have been a lot of tears but there has also been a lot of laughter.  I’ve met so many people, and shared my story to others who get diagnosed so they know what to expect… or what to try that has worked for me – even though each case is different.  And if you know me, or follow my caring bridge page, weird things tend to happen to me and all you can do……….. is just laugh! Because I try to live my life to the fullest each day, and I try not to let this disease or anything else bring me down.

The theme for you is “home of the brave’ … and each of us is brave in our own way, my bravery comes from deep inside myself knowing I’m not giving up…..knowing I have an enormous support system in my family and friends.

For the girls sitting up here tonight…. Courage and bravery are not just about facing risk, but also, afterward, about going back to the people you love, your community and sharing your experience, and encourage them to be strong.”

Kristy

*If this resonated with you, feel free to share on Social Media – not only to raise awareness but to bring hope to any who may be struggling*

Final Sunset

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blog sunset collage 1

We placed that stone almost a year later, and I’ve hated it ever since. The coldness, harshness and permanence it brings every time just reiterates and reminds me of what we already hate to have to face. Another birthday is here, which means another year without a missing link sitting around the table to blow out 28 birthday candles. Another day spent with an especially heavy feeling in my heart while running through my mind all of the ‘who would you be today’ questions. From her occupation, to relationship status, her hair cut and color, to her current address or possible little ones running around – it’s impossible not to play out the endless possibilities of scenarios. As I sat staring at that stone last night, I noticed the perfect reflection of the sun set staring back at me. I thought of what the reflection of what her last sunset meant and what it has brought in the 8 years since.

This week has been a heavy one for many reasons beyond this – but the primary reoccurring theme has been the reminder that death surrounds us.  Doing these tributes and reading the heartbreaking stories of others’ lives that were shattered on account of ugly diseases, forces me to ask myself the question “what do I want my last sunset to look like?” I keep reminding myself that all the things that I’m unsatisfied with in my life right now – aren’t anywhere near what I want that sunset to look like as I take my last breath on this earth. So as I run through these countless thoughts of what she’d be doing if we were all sitting around that table together, I look in that reflection on that stone and also see myself. And I think to myself – “self” 😉 you are still sitting here celebrating more birthdays, so – who and what are you doing that feeds and fills your soul? While there are some things – such as being a mom – that I am proud of – there are  other things that consume large amounts of my time, that aren’t in alignment with what I actually love or am passionate about. While I’ve spent the past couple years trying to bridge these ideas and things together, unable to make a complete connection as to how or where I want to go next – I’m forced to be reminded that maybe in the end, none of the minor details matter. It’s just another push towards something more, something bigger, something outside the mundane. It’s as if we’re almost sitting and waiting for death to come knocking just so we can attempt to make it all right when that reality has become ours. Only then do we either live engulfed in regret and guilt, or try and make it all right when we know the end is near. Why do we do that? Why do we wait? Why do we work our entire lives just to hit a certain age to retire and actually ‘enjoy’ life and be stress free? Why do we wait until our kids are older or we have grandchildren to change the way we think about and interact with our kids? Why do we work our entire lives to pay off things we think we need, only to be surrounded by those things in the end to realize how completely unnecessary they are?

Although this day is a reminder of many things that will never come into fruition for Josie on another birthday that she isn’t able to celebrate – it’s also a reminder to ask ourselves what we want left – either etched permanently on that stone or painted on that final sunset of our lives. I want that sunset to be bright and beautiful, full of many vibrant colors that others remember for decades to come. I want it to consist of change, hope and healing from the inside out. And this is a reminder that we are still here, and we still have the opportunity to make it what we want, while we can.

I wanted to share this, as I thought it summed so many things up perfectly 🙂 This is part of an entry made by Chandra Nicole (her writing is amazing by the way, highly recommend following on FB, or reading the full entry on Elephant Journal at  http://www.elephantjournal.com/2016/05/a-lesson-about-true-love-where-to-find-it/ )

“But I think the lesson that’s most pressing here is the understanding that impending ‘death’ allows us to be present, which is where true love resides.

It allows us to live fully and to see what’s truly important… and also what’s total bullshit. When ‘the end’ is near, moments become intrinsically precious.

Parting ways with this man, has shown me that more clearly than anything before.

I wonder how differently we might live our lives if we were to really understand that everything dies at some point; that the only constant in this universe is change, and that within each change there is a mini-death.

In what ways are we resisting life by resisting death?

If we were to interact with everything, everyone, every relationship — with full awareness of the fact that it may soon die, how might we choose differently?
What might we say differently?
How would we show up differently?

What would matter?
And what wouldn’t?

What might LOVE actually look like in the space of total surrender and complete presence?”

-Chandra Nicole

Happy birthday Miss Josie – although we’d prefer you were here to cheers that drink with – thank you for all that you’ve taught and continue to teach us as we walk blindly through this thing called life.

Jos bday collage 2016

Siblings Tribute – Brynn & Jaime

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Blog-tributebrynnnjamie

There isn’t anyone that doesn’t know of someone that has battled a disease at some point in their life. Whether it be cancer, mental illness, eating disorders, cardiovascular disease, Alzheimer’s, alcoholism, or addiction – to some degree, disease is disease. Some have triumphed over their struggles, while others fought the battle until the end, only to lose the war.

Although we lost our siblings to different diseases, we still watched them endure hardships while fighting against something that, in the end, was stronger then them. We, as family, were forced to sit on the sidelines, unable to make their physical, emotional or mental pain cease. From various forms of chemo, radiation or surgical treatments to different anti-anxiety and anti-depressant medications- they were forced to put their mind, body and soul through some excruciating pain just to be able to add another day to the calendar.

While we all know of these people, we don’t really, truly know these people. We’ve all heard of stories pertaining to disease and death, however, it’s rare that we hear or see what happens behind the scenes. The lasting impact it has on both the patient and the family and the roller coaster of emotions that take place along the way. From the fight to the triumphs and back to defeat, from what seems like never ending decision making, just to hope it was the ‘right’ one, just to doubt it and yet be forced to trust it all at once. From the overwhelming support of those around you, only to feel so alone in the crowd of supporters. From the distress on so many levels, only to hope it’s worth every ounce of energy put forth by everyone. From the tears to the triumphs, from overwhelming sadness to finding laughter in the little moments, the heartache to the joys of the smallest things you never noticed before, from the heaviest of guilt weighing on us down to trying to see the bigger picture through the diluted veil. From watching them in pain in every realm, to one day being forced to feel much of that same pain. This is a journey that so many – too many – experience, but one that often times doesn’t get brought up in the rawness in which is truth for many. And I want to bring forth that rawness, that truth and the awareness behind it.

I feel truly honored to be able to share this ‘Siblings Tribute’ with 3 other strong, brave, compassionate and determined souls to bring forth both their siblings stories, as well as their own. Our hope is that this can offer a sense of peace for those who are struggling in any way – to know that you aren’t alone on this journey, whether you’re the one who’s in the ring for another round to fight, or the cheerleader on the sidelines – your story matters! This is Part 1 of a few entries and I am truly so grateful they agreed to do this with me! Although these entries were excruciating to write – I’m excited to share both of their stories, as well as their sisters battle against a disease we’re all well aware and hear far too much about – cancer.

*Disclaimer: a box of tissues is recommended – you’ve been warned 😉

Jaime collage 2

“Sisters from the start, friends forever from the heart.”

You and your sister (names, background, ages)- who were you both pre-diagnosis?

My name is Brynn Ashley Soderlind. I was 31 when my sister Jaime Teresa Gartner was diagnosed with breast cancer on October 14, 2011. Jaime was only 32 years old. I was 8 months pregnant with my first child as I sat in the waiting room of the doctors office. My three year old nephew, Jaime’s son Jameson, sat on my lap on a blue upholstered bench. He was such a patient child. He held my hand and we sat there mostly in silence. It seemed like years. We waited and waited and waited. Finally, three hours later, Jaime came down the dark grey hallway. Her dark brown long hair framed her beautiful face like a picture. I remember her brief eye contact with me and then her eyes quickly fixed on her son. Tears were pouring down her face as she opened her arms to meet his little body. He fell into her with relief. She looked to me and smiled as she wiped her tears quickly from her cheeks and shook her head “no”. I knew right then that the massive lump in my sisters breast wasn’t a cyst or an enlarged lymph node. My throat felt tight as I swallowed hard. My sister had cancer.

We grew up with a strong sense of self. We lived out in the country on a hobby farm with our loving parents and grandparents, some goats, chickens, pigs, dogs, rabbits and a blind cow. We had great company each day with our siblings- Ericka, Ian and Seth- and the neighborhood kids our mom babysat. We loved to hike on the land and explore the 132 acre woods that we lived on and absorb all that nature provided to us. Jaime and I loved to take our Red Ryder BB guns out and shoot targets that Ian would set up for us. Life was easy. Life was so good. We loved to go to Whitewater State Park and as teens we would spend most of our summer hiking and swimming. We also loved to travel and took several road trips together and with friends. We did almost everything together. Where there was Jaime, there was likely Brynn.

We would end up moving to Colorado together in 1999. We loved the mountains. We loved the experience but eventually we ended up back in Minnesota together.

Almost a year before her cancer diagnosis, Jaime and I were in Esthetician school together. Jaime and Jameson lived with my husband Adam and I in our condo. Jaime and I had a long history of sames. We had the same jobs, wore the same clothes, loved the same foods, had the same friends, lived in the same cities, read the same books, listened to the same music. Her and I shared a bedroom, secrets, underwear, makeup, cars, lunch money, dreams, aspirations, germs but mostly, we shared genetics. I was encouraged to have genetic testing done shortly after my 33 year old sister had a bilateral mastectomy. I knew that if my sister had breast cancer at 32 years old, I had a pretty good chance of getting it too. When I got the genetic counseling and testing, my daughter was a baby and still breastfeeding. I remember the fear surrounding a positive genetic mutation. What if I too shared the BRCA2 mutation? I knew for me, it would mean a mastectomy and possibly a hysterectomy. That meant no more children. I was ok with that as long as I had an upper hand on controlling the disease.

I had a strong feeling that I didn’t have the mutation. I soon learned that Jaime had the same feeling. Sure enough, I tested negative for the BRCA2 mutation. I cried so hard when I heard the positive news; half of me was relieved and half of me felt guilty. I know it may seem strange, but it was like we had always shared everything and now we didn’t. And I was happy and devastated all at the same time. You see that’s the tricky part about disease and being a caretaker to someone you love so much. The cancer may have taken over my sister’s body, but it also consumed me, differently, but still the same. It completely changed everything.

I thought about cancer all day long. I thought about ways to help heal. I threw myself into research and tried to educate myself as best as I could. I attended every appointment. I quit my job to care for her full time. Her cancer became my cancer. Her life sort of became my responsibility. I’d lie awake at night running through all of the “to do’s” Did she take all of her meds? Did she eat enough? Were all of her appointments scheduled? Did we write down all of our questions? I learned as much as I could about her tumors on my own time. When they told her that her tumors were ERPR positive, HER2 negative, I researched. When they told her that she needed  radioactive Theraspheres implanted into her liver, I researched. When they said there was nothing left to try, I researched. I always wanted to find a way to save my sister’s life. I wanted her dream of becoming a grandmother to come to fruition. I wanted to see her pain-free and dancing in the woods at night like we used to do when we were young. I wanted to travel again, hike, shop, sing, learn to knit and play guitar with her. She always wanted us to take knitting classes and guitar classes together, but I guess we never made the time. I wish we would have figured out how to make it work. Especially guitar lessons. We both loved singing and music so much. I imagine how therapeutic it would have been to be able to play guitar and sing together during her 4.5 year fight against cancer. We both had our own guitar and knitting needles, but never learned. Now, I am ready to take guitar lessons. I will learn to knit this winter. The thing I’ve learned is that life doesn’t wait for us. We have to take advantage of the time we have- right now- today. If there is something you want to learn or experience, go for it. Set goals! Chase dreams! Jaime’s goal was to make it to Mother’s Day. My goal is to make sure that women aren’t dismissed when they find a lump in their breast, at any age. Jaime was dismissed by 3 different doctors before the fourth ordered a mammogram. 3 different doctors! None of them thought she had cancer because she was young and because they told her cancer didn’t hurt, so her lump must have been a cyst or something. It will take me a lifetime to get over the dismissal she received from those individuals. If a 31 year old woman complains of discomfort and has a sizable lump, it should be taken seriously. Mammograms save lives. Every lump should be examined thoroughly.

What battles (disease, metastasis, how many times in remission/relapse) did she endure and for how long? Explain what impact this had on you personally and how it changed both of your lives/perspectives, good and bad.

Jaime possessed a natural ability to find the positive in situations. She never complained about her circumstances. Not one time. She never had a pity party. I’m sure on her own time alone she often struggled, but she never divulged any of those feelings. She made light of the adverse reaction she had to steroids during her radiation treatments. She would joke about how the development of Cushing’s Syndrome was the worst part of the entire cancer experience because she had a 100 pound weight gain which was painful and left her almost unrecognizable. Her skin began to split in areas from the rapid weight gain. Her body ached all over.  They learned that the steroids they were giving her for pain control caused her adrenal glands to fail and shut down. Jaime didn’t mind loosing her hair. She liked hats. She knew she could manage the mastectomy with future reconstruction surgery and prosthetics. But Jaime did not know how to be ok with the Cushing’s Syndrome and her physical immobility and intense pain. In my opinion, the most challenging piece through her cancer journey the rapid weight gain and pain that accompanied it like an orchestra.

Jaime was diagnosed in October of 2011. She started chemotherapy quickly. Her lump was so invasive and so aggressive that they feared removing it without hitting her with a cycle of chemotherapy prior to surgery. Jaime had 7 rounds of chemotherapy between October 2011 -April 2012. On May 11, 2012, Jaime underwent a bilateral mastectomy and sentinel lymph node dissection. They inserted tissue expanders inside the chest wall to reconstruct her breasts with implants. The expanders were placed behind the muscle of the chest wall. The idea was to slowly stretch the skin by filling the expanders with air overtime to accommodate an implant.

We moved into her apartment in May after her mastectomy to care for her and Jameson. She couldn’t be alone and certainly couldn’t care for her three year old son by herself. I spent my days with Jaime, Jameson and my 7 month old daughter Poppy. I took her to appointments, cared for her and the children and did all of the normal day to day tasks and errands. I had so much help from Adam at night and on the weekends.  Following her discharge from her mastectomy, Jaime’s pain continued. She had so much pain. She was so weak and tired. Her surgery sites began to show signs of infection. I called the clinic with great concern. I was reassured several times that what I was describing was “normal healing”.  When her pain became unbearable, I brought her into the ER at a different hospital. She was quickly admitted after examination. She went into surgery the next day to  have the tissue expanders removed because she was septic. I felt so angry and so frustrated. I felt like I let her down. I had called several times with concern. I was always told that it was normal. Now she had a major setback in her recovery.

After that surgery to remove the expanders, Jaime never really felt good again. Ever. It was like the infection had gotten into the core of her being. She was so unsure. Her days and nights consisted of doctors appointments and pain management. After that surgery she went six months without seeing a doctor. She moved to Waseca and rented a house. She and Jameson lived right next door to our mom and stepdad. She just never felt good. Mom and Dad expressed concern about the lack of medical care and lack of follow up. Jaime was in a deep dark depression. She seemed to feel like they did everything they could do for her and this was what she would endure. We felt that she should be closely followed with scans and check ups. Nothing was scheduled. She had no desire to go to the doctor. Then in November of 2012, Jaime came to visit us in New Hope. She was in so much pain in her hips and low back that she could hardly walk. The pain was constant and ibuprofen wasn’t even coming close to touching it. Adam encouraged her to go to the ER. After some persuasion, she agreed. The ER dr in Plymouth MN listened to her history and decided that a pain injection of Tordol  to her hip would suffice and he sent her home. No scans were ordered. Her blood work showed elevated white cells and all of her numbers were either a bit high or low in almost every category. They knew she had cancer earlier that year. Why wouldn’t they have investigated her complaints and concerns more thoroughly? She was a 33 year old single mother with a history of breast cancer. I will never understand the lack of care. Fast forward a month later, she has similar complaints of low back pain and hip pain. Adam takes her into the ER again, and she gets the exact same diagnosis and treatment. They say it’s likely menses pain and they encourage a hot bath and ibuprofen. That was in December 2012. A moth later, on January 21, 2013, she fell in the bathroom in the middle of the night while visiting us in Duluth at our new temporary home. Jaime managed to crawl into the living room where she was able to wake us with screams like I have never heard before. After helping her up, Adam got her into our SUV and drove to the ER at St Lukes. At 3am on January 22, Adam texted me that he and Jaime were meeting with a neurosurgeon and likely she needed spinal surgery to fix her broken lumbar. He also mentioned that they were quite confused how she managed to break her lumbar by falling in the bathroom since the lumbar is the strongest part of the spine. After laying flat for 4 days in a body brace, the biopsies revealed that Jaimes entire skeleton had been infiltrated with breast cancer. I remember the look on her face when they told her that her breast cancer was a stage 4 and terminal. She looked relieved. She looked frightened. She looked so young and so lovely. I was engulfed with sickness and anger. Terminal breast cancer?!! How did this happen?

After she broke her back, she realized that St Lukes hospital in Duluth Minnesota was where she was meant to be. She began her care and treatments of weeks of radiation, many surgeries, continuous chemotherapy, injections in her neck and back and pain management. The nurses and doctors were incredible at St Lukes. She felt cared for and loved and validated. Her pain was finally explained! She could finally trust medical staff. She became so close to her oncologist, Dr. Based Goueli and her nurse Terri. They gave her the greatest care and love. She trusted them. I trusted them. We were able to navigate through all of the bad news together and even in her final days, she felt comfort and trust when she talked to Dr Goueli or Terri specifically.

During her battle, she also had to have a hysterectomy. Pathology of her ovaries detected breast cancer. From there, Jaime’s cancer spread into to the liver. Her care team kept up on her treatments of chemotherapy and she was able to fight for another year and a half. Jaime ended up passing away on a beautiful sunny Thursday morning in the arms of me and our older sister and our parents. Jaime had been in hospice care at St. Luke’s hospital for less than a week. Jaime died from liver failure caused by metastatic breast cancer to bones and liver. She had so much trouble breathing in her final hours. I remember feeling like she was drowning and I couldn’t pull her up or give her air. She fought until the last breath. April 14, 2016 was the hardest day of my existence. I lost a big part of myself when she passed. She had been unable to communicate the last day, but moments before she died, she opened her eyes and made brief eye contact with me and began to cry. She quickly shifted her eyes to our sister Ericka as tears fell down her face. Her eyes fixed towards my parents with her last breath.

I remember my mom placed her delicate hand on Jaime’s sweet face as she gently ran her palm down over her eyes to assist them to close. I remember the sound of my dad pulling a bandaid off of Jaime’s arm and throwing it across the room as he wept. I continue to replay these moments over and over- just like the the day she was diagnosed. The connections. The similarities. The tears. The beauty and the tragedy of it all. The brief eye contact that cut like a knife, the tears that poured from our eyes like wine, and the fear and yet the calming sense of peace that embodied all of it.

What did this consist of for you personally – to recall being a cheerleader on the sidelines, observing, but being unable to save them? (Ultimately the trauma of being the survivor).

I am forever grateful that I was able to care for my sister during her fight with cancer. I was able to support her and fight right along side her. I made sure she knew that she wasn’t alone. It’s been a month since she passed. The sorrow and pain really does come in waves. Everyday I wonder if there was anything more or anything else I could have done to help her have more time. I guess there will always be a part of me that will lament over the possibilities of treatments and cures. She ultimately decided that she would fight until the very end and she did. She fought so hard. Now I sit with my sword down and my shield up. I am still at war but all of the enemies are gone. I am less now. I am forever less without her here beside me. I will never understand why my sister had to fight so hard and ultimately die fighting breast cancer.

How has this changed you and your life course? 

Jaimes diagnosis absolutely changed me. I changed because I had to. I quit my job to care for her, we cancelled a move across the country to care for her, and I directed my focus and energy towards her health and healing.

Jaime and I were somewhat different from one another. Physically we were basically opposite. Our personalities, although different, meshed as we complemented each other well. We understood each others sense of humor. We had so many common threads and so much interest in one another. We had our own language and the ability to read one another with little effort. Sometimes we even felt one another’s pain or discomfort when apart. Jaime was 20 months older than me. We were only a grade apart in school. She always joked that I was the “big sister” and she was the “little sister”. I was taller, so that was ok with me. I will remember Jaime as an intelligent, loving, generous, carefree, slightly unpredictable, esthetically well maintained, stylish woman. She always had a big beautiful bright smile and she was always late for everything.

Since her passing, I have had a strong pull towards becoming more carefree and less concerned about details that don’t matter. I’m trying to learn to live in the moments that we are given each day.

I am contemplating my next steps and trying to discover what is best for me and what is next for me now that she is gone.

Do you feel you’re meant to do something differently with your life because of her death? And if so, what is your hope/goal? How do you want her to live on?

Jaime left me with three quotes:

“Be a rainbow in the cloud”  

“Something will grow from all you are going through, and it will be you.”  

 “Don’t worry, No one likes a know-it-all”

I am doing a lot of soul searching and digging deep to find my balance and my purpose in life. I believe that Jaime’s spirit will help to guide me down the best path.

I do feel that I have great compassion and empathy and love and concern for others. Jaime has always encouraged me to become a nurse… but she also wanted me to pursue an acting career and become a professional photographer so I’m a bit confused about her impression of my actual talents or calling. I guess I may be confused as well? I feel like I need to find a vessel that allows me to help advocate for people struggling to find the medical care that they need and deserve. I don’t want one more woman with a lump in her breast to have to go to four doctors just to get a mammogram. I want to bring awareness to breast cancer affecting young women. Breast cancer isn’t only killing post-menopausal women. Breast cancer doesn’t discriminate. Men, women, young and old are all candidates for breast cancer. Screening is key! Early detection saves lives. Genetic counseling helps us to make informed preventative decisions  about our health. Who knows, maybe my sister would still be here today if the first doctor who saw Jaime would have ordered a simple mammogram.

Jaime will live on in the masterpiece she created. Her strong loving intelligent boy Jameson carries her beauty, strength and perseverance. He has her personality and her heart of gold. Jameson is the greatest legacy and a beautiful reminder that my sister still remains.

**If this resonated with you, feel free to share on Social Media to not only raise awareness, but bring hope to any that may be struggling**