September 14, 2006



I think you put it into words just fine. So fine, in fact, that having read this, I feel like I've stolen a peek inside the Holy of Holies--just a glance, but enough to make me marvel. All I can mutter, in a hushed tone as well, is a deep, whispered "wow." I don't think I can put into words how amazing you are--to see what you see, and then to share it with us so eloquently, so real, so true. You are a gift, Jenné, and I'm so glad Sandra shared your blog with me. Thank you. Truly.


It makes me wonder if she was this angry before she got cancer. It also makes me wonder how I'd react to finding out I had cancer.

I found out a couple of weeks ago that a childhood friend of mine was diagnosed with Hodgkin's. Her mom and my mom are great friends. Her mom is very angry with her daughter's diagnosis. She asked my mom why this was happening to her (meaning herself, not her daughter), that they've already had so much bad stuff happen to them.

I wonder if the angry woman has ever been completely vulnerable outside of having cancer. I wonder if she has a family.

I don't want to give off the wrong impression here, but there wouldn't be a t-shirt "Shit Happens" if shit didn't actually happen. It's what you do with it when it does happen.

I mean, here you have a room full of people with cancer, all getting treatment, and all who could be as angry as her.

But then here you have an insight of what happens in those rooms. Vulnerability, truth, and treatment.

There just has to be a point where she awakens to S E E the people who are there with her.

Like you said, everything in that room is very real...it is right in your face.

I have a picture of you and Steve on my wall in my office. And every morning I look at it and smile. It is a real moment of life. I like to embrace those moments.


In every experience in our lives we have choices. We can choose to think we're the first to have and feel the very experience and emotions we are in or we can believe we are one of many before us and many after. We can be part of a larger humanity or alone. I think it's true with good things and bad things - and our experience is colored by the choice.

I can think of many examples, but I think your post is one of the better ones....

Mary Richmond

thank you.


Hostage vs. Vacationer vs. Explorer.


Jenne, every time I read one of your posts I marvel at your ability to touch my heart. This one makes me want to cry, scream and smile all at the same time. Mostly, it makes me want to help all the people in that room -- even Ms. Grumpy Gills in the next bed. I want to make the emotional and physical pain go away. You're so gifted at writing (amongst other things of course) and in this case it is a blessing and a curse to us because it seems so real.

Love you loads - and your strength (you too, Hub)

Jeff Risley

I want to be in that room, but I don't -- know what I mean? I mean, who doesn't want to live that in-the-moment. Who doesn't want to live that raw, that feeling-feeling. What's sad is, we can, and we don't have to have cancer to do it. We can just choose to live...now. But most of us don't. I don't. I don't know why, but I don't. Habit, I suppose. Oh, I have flashes of it. Like this weekend -- one of the first weekends in months I haven't worked. I looked at camping equipment with Joe. And it was amazing. He was playing in the tents and begging me to buy one so we could go camping together. And now all I want to do is buy a tent, pack up the wife and kid and head to the mountains and never come back. Live. Now.

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