Today Morning...

Now that we are doing Liz's treatments as an outpatient, the family has been taking turns

I am going to try my best to keep this blog up to date with Liz's cancer progress. I think it will be easier for me to express myself this way and also keep everyone in the loop.  I am so good at pouring my heart out on paper... er... on a keyboard. For those of you who are following this blog, thank you.  I am going to do my best to put up a new post each week; sometimes more.  Liz is also going to do her best (when she has the energy) to post videos about what she is going through.  She filmed one in the hospital right after her diagnosis.  If you missed it, you can click here to watch it.  I left off on the 28th of August.  If you did not get to read my last post with everything leading up to the diagnosis and staging, click here .  She had a lot of visitors last week at the hospital, and everyone who walked through the lobby of her floor in the cancer institute was happy to pose for a picture in front of the cancer sign, expressing their feelings with fists in the air and/or

I know what you're thinking. The title of this blog post is sooooooo cliche, isn't it? Well, yes. I have to agree, but there really isn't another appropriate title for this post. It just fits. This isn't going to be a post about God or religion or Christianity or whatever in general.  Whatever you believe is fine by me.  Some may say this is God's work, others will simply say "The universe provides." As for me and my family, we believe in God. But, that's neither here nor there. I simply want to talk about everything leading up to this point and how thankful I am that everything happened the way that it did. Let's start with the present day.  Liz was just diagnosed with a pretty aggressive stage 2 cervical cancer. Now, lets talk about why I'm feeling thankful, optimistic, and overall happy about this.  Weird, right?  You'll understand by the end of this post; I promise. Since Liz moved to Florida, we have been in and out of hospitals,

My Story. On November 30, 2000, I moved to Florida from my beloved city of Chicago. I never wanted to leave Chicago, but my family moved in June of the same year and I just couldn't be so far away from them. Reluctantly, at the age of 23, I packed up my belongings and moved.  It wasn't easy. I left a boyfriend, great friends, cousins, and a killer salsa scene behind.  The transition was awful.  West Palm Beach, Florida was incredibly 'slow' for my liking.  When I first arrived, I expected to see a horse drawn carriage trotting down the street. I was a city girl and I loved the fast pace of the big city life.  Florida just didn't feel like "home" to me.  I spent New Year's Eve alone that year in my mother's home crying in the bottom bunk of my brothers' bedroom just fantasizing about what all of my friends were doing up North. I refused to bring the New Year in with a bunch of old strangers (my mother's friends.) Fast forward to January,