I just got off the phone with my friend Lois. She and I met through the Facebook group, Curing Cancer With a Smile (CCWAS), that I co-founded with my friend Mike Terrill, a fellow cancer survivor.  I must admit...my first impression of Lois was nothing close to what it is now. That is due, in large part, to how cancer has changed her life so dramatically over the past few months. In the last few weeks alone, I have watched this frightened, exhausted and emotionally spent woman transform into a steadfast and valiant warrior. Her courage and resolve have skyrocketed, and she's become a true inspiration to those who are watching this story unfold from the balances - myself included. And while we all wish we could do more to help, I am not at all worried that Lois and Company have got this one covered...Hands Down.

You see, Lois is one of the many unsung heroes in the battle against cancer. Her husband, Ben, is very ill; metastatic lung cancer has invaded his entire body. Ben has put up a valiant fight, but is in the final stage of his journey. Lois remains by his side, tirelessly tending to his every need - just as she has throughout his illness. She is mentally and physically exhausted, and she is leaning heavily on CCWAS and Hospice to get her through Ben's final days. But she is handling this dreadful experience like a champion. She and Ben are an inspiration to all 1400+ CCWAS members, as well as many others. And I, for one, am VERY proud of her.

The image of a devoted wife tending to her dying husband does anything but conjure up warm, "happy-go-lucky, rainbows & puppies" feelings. I mean let's face it...this scenario SUCKS. But, if we can see past the ugliness of it all for just a few minutes, there are so many blessings to be found. One of those is the gift of laughter. CCWAS was founded on the premise that love and laughter have the power to get us through the toughest of times. I believe that wholeheartedly, too. Mike and I will both tell you that we never would have made it this far in our own battles without the amazing people who support us, and the incredible gift of laughter. Every day since he and I met, we have talked to each other and hundreds of other survivors and caregivers whose lives have been touched and forever changed by cancer. Our goal is to support and educate each other - and to use laughter as a means of doing so.

Lois was one of the original members of our group. From Day One, she candidly shared her story - introducing us to Ben, his struggles and her frustrations as a wife and caregiver. It was plain to see that she was feeling lost, lonely and confused. She rarely spoke of anything but her own circumstances in the early days, as they totally consumed her life. She found out all to quickly that it's not just the disease you battle on a day-to-day basis; it's often the many other things no one tells you about that can be the most frustrating. But Lois was smart: as Ben's condition continued to worsen, she asked questions, sought advice from other caregivers and survivors and tried her very best to educate herself. Then, a most amazing thing began to unfold...

Being the perpetual goofball that I am, I decided that Lois needed to "lighten up". That is not at all a negative statement. I just felt like she needed a "break" - something more to focus on than the day-to-day stress of caring for a criticially ill loved one. Something that would energize her and help her get through the trying days ahead. Mike agreed. So, with the help of he and other key CCWAS members, I devised a 2-step plan: 1) Help Lois see how much she had to offer other caregivers and survivors in our group, giving her something positive to focus on, and 2) MAKE THAT GIRL LAUGH!!!

Like so many people going through a catastrophic event, Lois couldn't begin see how much her experience was affecting others. When you're in the midst of the storm, it is very hard to see anything beyond the place where you currently are. But many of us could tell that this woman had the potential and the heart to help so many other people in her position, who desperately needed to know that they were not alone. All she needed was some extra love, support and LAUGHTER. Mike and I offered advice based on our own journeys - his being far more advanced than mine. So did others. Together, we all encouraged her. And the laughter thing...well that just came naturally.

To fully understand this, I need to tell you a little bit about Mike. I could write many blogs about this man, and I probably will. But for this purpose, you need to know that this is a guy with a tough outer shell that covers a huge heart of gold. A former sailor, he "tells it like it is", complete with colorful language when he speaks passionately about any topic - especially cancer. I was captivated by him from the first time we spoke. But it wasn't until later that I found out this incredibly strong family man, who has been through so much in his own journey, was VERY funny. As our group membership expanded, and more personalities came into the mix, the conversations became...shall we say...less conservative. Mike and I agreed from the beginning that we were going to "put it all out there" when it came to cancer - both good and bad - and boy, did he take that to heart.  I, of course, followed suit - as did several other members. Pretty soon, we found ourselves immersed in some hilarious conversations on the CCWAS page - most of which occurred at odd hours of the night when none of us could sleep. At first, Lois seemed a bit timid when she participated in these colorful discussions. But as time wore on, and we made more attempts to engage her - she blossomed. We could see her energy level pick up as we all laughed hysterically over some of the crazy experiences and statements that were posted. And seeing how this positively affected Lois gave us all a much-needed boost.

In time, Lois became a very regular participant in our late-night Facebook shenanigans. She is now one of our most active members, continuing to offer support to others, even though she is close to losing the love of her life. I knew from experience that she needed this, that it would be tremendously therapeutic for her. I can't tell you how heartwarming and inspiring it is to witness her reaching out to other survivors and caregivers. Her devotion to Ben is the same, but she became a much more effective partner in his battle, in my opinion. Through laughter and encouraging others, she found strength and courage that she never had before. She began to question doctors more and to fight even harder for Ben's rights, as she took the "til death do us part" vows of her marriage to heart. But, she also took another vow to heart...an eternal vow to herself and others, one that will profoundly affect her life and those of so many more in the days and years to come. Lois, whether she realizes it or not, has totally subscribed to a "Laugh Ever After" vow. She has learned how to use the powerful gift of laughter like a shot in the arm to get her through the darkest of days. As a result, I feel confident beyond a shadow of doubt that there will be a very bright light awaiting Lois on the other side of this tunnel.

God Bless you and Ben, Lois. And Congratulations on your graduation from the Zippy Rose School of Laughter. Job well done.

Remember when you were young, fresh out of high school or college, ready to conquer the world? When your diet consisted of Oodles of Noodles, Kraft Macaroni & Cheese and canned tuna? When you thought a good cocktail was cheap beer ON SALE?  That was my life in the mid 1980s. I had just graduated from Journalism School at UNC-Chapel Hill, and I thought I was going be the next great advertising mogul, with my award-winning copy splattered all over television screens, magazines and such. But first, I had to pay the electric bill and buy beer for the weekend. Yep...I was FIERCE!

It was 1986, and I was working as a Junior Copywriter in a Raleigh, NC advertising agency. I spent every dime of my meager income on living expenses, clothes and yes...cheap beer. Every night, my cats and I would have dinner on my couch - an ugly brown naugahyde (or "pleather") loveseat that was only rivaled in tackiness by the horribly dilapidated couch at my friend Trish's house (pictured in this photo). I had no kitchen or dining room table - unless you counted the ancient card table with the plastic tablecloth in my kitchen. I thought I was a queen because I had a king-sized bed, which was nothing more than two twin mattresses and box springs thrown on the floor with a huge brown comforter on top. Good God, I think I even had a few Care Bears hiding amongst the pillows. Wow. But as I think back, some of the happiest times of my life occurred while I was living in squalor in that God-awful run-down paneled apartment. Ewww.

As embarrassing as my bachelorette pad was, I did take pride in my wardrobe. I had to. You simply didn't make it in the advertising world dressed like a Roseanne Barr wannabe. You had to look the part. Us "creatives" could usually get away with more "out there" wardrobe choices, but I happened to work for a very conservative man who did not particularly care for my taste in clothing. Still, I continued to dress as the unique individual I am, dashing to the local TJ Maxx store on the days the truck came in (yes...I knew when that was), so that I could spend hours searching racks and trying on the designer clothing that had been drastically reduced. (There were probably good reasons for that.) My favorite "finds" were long Esprit tunics matched with Saks 5th Avenue leggings and pumps, an awesome polka-dotted Williwear suit, and Guess jeans & miniskirts in assorted colors. But my absolute pride and joy was a strapless black cocktail dress, matched with fishnets and the most incredible pair of black sequin pumps I'd ever seen. They literally took my breath away the first time I laid eyes on them, and I spent far too much money to get them into my closet. But, I did get a lot of wear out of them. They took me down a lot of unique paths, but none more interesting than the night they landed me in a holly bush. Here's how that story unfolded:

Check out the picture again. There I am, dressed to the hilt and feeling great. I have on my brand-new black cocktail dress, fishnets fresh out of the package, awesome vintage jewelry and my prized sequin pumps. (Why in the hell I chose to have Trish photograph me in front of that hideous couch and tasteless artwork is beyond me, but I'm assuming it had something to do with cheap beer. Just sayin'.) I was headed to an awards ceremony with my best buddy, Mark, the Junior Art Director at the agency, and our friend Tony. To those who knew us, that last sentence would have stirred up a significant amount of fear back in the day. The three of us NEVER went anywhere without embarking on some sort of hilarious adventure. This night was no different.

The boys and I headed off to the Addy Awards, where we schmoozed, ate fancy hors d'oeuvres and drank free cocktails with our agency peeps. Then we sat through the monotonous chest-beating awards ceremony, half-crocked - because that's the only way our collective ADD brains could handle the "excitement." All Mark and I wanted to do was receive the award we had earned for our work on a United Way Campaign so we could get the heck out of there. So, we did just that...received the award, handed it over to the agency Creative Director and scurried out the back door.  We headed straight to a local dance night club/bar that we often frequented, where we danced until my prized pumps had to be removed to air out the screaming blisters on my feet. Then we decided that we needed a late-night "snack". Our favorite greasy burger joint was a only couple of blocks away, so we decided to trek on over for cheeseburgers, fries and shakes. Our plan was to pick up the food and walk back to the boys' apartment to eat since there was no indoor seating and it was a bit nippy outside. So, I threw on my wrap, squeezed my sore feet back into the pumps, and off we went, arm-in-arm to Char-Grill.

Not that this has anything whatsoever to do with the story... but it is interesting to note that the employees of Char-Grill were, at the time, mostly buff men on work release from the local prison. So, half the fun in going there was to gawk over their sweaty, muscled bodies. That's as far as it went, though, because they still looked a little scary from behind the grill in the glass-enclosed building. But boy, could they cook the best darn hamburgers in the universe. We quickly ordered our hamburgers and fries, which were placed in two paper sacks, and we headed off to the apartment, eager to devour our meal.

On the way home, we passed in front an historic girls school, where there was a single holly bush at the edge of the property adjoining the sidewalk. Approaching the school, it became apparent to me that I should be held responsible for holding the food because Mark and Tony were having enough trouble holding their alcohol and bladders. So, I foolishly offered to carry the bags. We were all laughing hysterically as I struggled to walk with my swollen, blistered feet stuffed into the sequin pumps, and Mark tried desperately to hold his bladder until we could get home. But, as fate would have it...my struggle was about to hit an epic level.

As we approached the lone holly bush, Mark tripped and fell into me. Tony was laughing so hard that he also fell into me, knocking me off my feet and into the holly bush. From their vantage point, all they could see was two fishnet-clad legs with sequin pumps sticking out of the bush, which of course made them laugh even harder. When my arms emerged, still grasping the greasy burger bags, it was all they could do to contain themselves. In fact, they didn't even TRY to contain themselves. They fell on the ground laughing as I desperately and unsuccessfully tried to remove myself from the prickly bush. Finally, Tony had the "brilliant" idea to lunge a small fallen tree branch into the bush for me to grab. He intended to pull me out when I latched onto it, only he failed to notice that the branch was dead (as most dismembered tree branches are). Needless to say, it snapped and I fell back into the bush - which produced another round of ground-rolling, raucous laughter. When the boys FINALLY regained enough composure to pull me out on their own, my fishnets were ripped and my legs were scratched to pieces by the holly leaves that were still sticking out of the fishnets. I was a HOT MESS. All I remember at that point was taking off the shoes, handing the burgers to Tony and stumbling home with my two idiot cohorts to eat. I'm sure I pulled a t-shirt and sweatpants out of one of their closets and fell exhausted into bed afterwards.

There isn't a week that goes by without me remembering this story. And it makes me laugh every single time I do. On the toughest of days, as I try recover from a serious illness and  the financial devastation it has caused for my family, I am continuously reminded that laughter really is the best medicine sometimes. It is more therapeutic for me than any medication most of the time. And I thank God every day for friends like Mark and Tony, who make it possible for me to continue laughing. Although Tony is no longer with us (he passed away in 2008 after a courageous battle with lung cancer), he continues to be a source of strength to me. So does Mark. And my precious, hilarious family. And every other person who makes me smile. Trust me...that's a LOT of smiles :)

Have you ever met someone who ALWAYS seems to be in trouble, facing challenges one after another...some of them remarkably bizarre? I'm not talking about the kind of trouble that invites the attention of law enforcement officials (well, not on this particular day). I'm talking about out-of-the-blue, "I never saw this coming", "what have I done to deserve THIS?" drama. Well, that's my life. Some might argue that I've brought a lot of circumstances on myself, and in certain cases they would definitely be correct. But a lot of these "mishaps and misfortunes" are just too bizarre for even me to comprehend (and I have a pretty wild imagination.) To give you an example of what I'm talking about, I'll provide you with a synopsis of the past five years of my life:

December 2008: Knocked down a flight of stairs in Charleston, SC by a two large dogs who were walking their owner. (Dogs and owner left me lying at the bottom of the stairs with a leg injury.) January 2009: Leg, which is miraculously not broken, is not getting better. Doctor orders more tests, antibiotics. February 2009: Leg wound starts to drain. I am admitted to the hospital with a life-threatening staph infection. April 2009: Two months, three surgeries, four different IV antibiotics and a wound vac later... I am finally released from the hospital and return to work. May 2009: Son complains of pain in his side. Rush him to the hospital, where he has an emergency appendectomy - one week before high school graduation. September 2009: Son collapses during a college basketball practice. Small tumor is discovered in his nasal cavity. Has surgery to remove tumor, which turns out to be benign (thank God). December 2009: Four days before Christmas, husband says he isn't feeling well; thinks he may be having a diabetic reaction. Check his blood sugar. It is normal. He says his stomach and elbow are hurting. I call 911 and tell them I think he's having a heart attack. He thinks I'm crazy until EMS arrives and confirms my suspicion. He has surgery and two stents put in his heart.  February 2010: Son has major surgery for shoulder injury, ending his freshman college basketball season. April 2010: Son finishes freshman year and returns home to help me care for his father, who is still not feeling well. May 2010: Son and I notice that husband is unusually winded. Take him to the ER, where he's admitted with a blockage in one of the stents. Has a second surgery. August 2010: Son heads to school in another state, daughter to her freshman year of college in NC. Husband calls while I'm moving daughter in; son's new school has overbooked dorms. He is in a makeshift room with 12 other athletes. No closet, no drawers, all personal belongings locked in his car. Finally gets into a dorm a week later. September 2010: Son is miserable at new school; packs van after three weeks and comes back home to work and attend community college. December 2010: While getting out of the shower a week before Christmas, I notice what I think is a piece of black debris in the middle of my back. Go to scratch it off and it bleeds. Call doctor, who gets me in that day. He removes a large black mole from the center of my back and sends it off to be biopsied. He calls two days after Christmas to let me know the mole is being "sent out of state" for further evaluation (not good.) January 2011: Doctor calls to tell me mole has tested positive for melanoma. See a dermatologist, then a surgeon. February 2011: Have surgery to remove additional tissue from my back. Post-surgical complications mandate overnight stay, and make healing process very uncomfortable for several weeks. Foot long scar on back is extremely painful, but after six weeks I return to work. May 2011: I start a lengthy journey to explore treatment options, landing in DC, where my best friend & freelance business partner lives. Daughter moves back home because we can no longer afford to pay for college. She and son attend community college here and work to help support our family. My immune system continues to weaken, work becomes a challenge, but workload increases throughout the summer. June 2011: Have two separate vein surgeries in my bad leg to help improve blood flow & reduce swelling. Surgeries help some, but are not completely successful. September 2011: Lose job, lose house in foreclosure, move to rental home, start first of several treatments. October 2011: new, small melanoma discovered on my back and removed. December 2011: Suspicious growth discovered on left femur. New treatment begins. February 2012: Third suspicious mole removed for biopsy in NC, upon my demand. It ended up testing positive for cancer. Had surgery to remove additional surrounding tissue on my chest two weeks later, and transferred all care to Washington Cancer Institute in DC. Got in to see amazing melanoma specialist, who still follows me. April 2012: My beloved dog/friend/caregiver Gypsy becomes ill and we have to euthanize her. May 2012: Son gets a personal training job two hours away and moves back out. Turned 50, and spent one of the best weeks of my life at Topsail Island with friends and my daughter. Returned home at the end of the week with tremendous back pain, but attended my 50th birthday party in Salisbury. Continued monthly trips to DC for treatment throughout the summer, continuing to battle intermittent headaches and pain issues in my back. June 2012: Husband quit job in neighboring city in order to start company and be at home to help take care of me. August 2012: Discovered mass on back of head. Scanned and referred to surgeon for biopsy. Had allergic reaction while in the physician's office, passed out in the bathroom, hit head and rushed to ER. Daughter surprises me with a new puppy named Lilly. September 2012: Have surgery to remove mass on back of head, which reveals bad infection, but no metastasis. A group of childhood friends start a charity to benefit our family, as we are financially destitute. October 2012: Emotional ups and downs, med changes and financial woes worsen. Left side back pain increases. November 2012: Ultrasound confirms small mass in left kidney. Start new treatment & meds. January 2013: Start next phase of treatment. February 2013: First round of tests show no changes. Husband starts feeling poorly, ends up in hospital for third heart stent surgery. March 2013: Complete treatment for kidney mass, which is a success. Start receiving food stamps and basic medical care at free clinic in town. April 2013: Unable to pay rent on existing residence, we move to a smaller house around the corner. We are forced to give up one of our cars because we are unable to make the payments. I decide to take a treatment "hiatus" until June and get my immune system back on track. Two friends - one of them close - enter the final stage of their cancer battles, and I want to be there for them. I'm feeling worn down...but NOT out. I will survive this. And I will do it with laughter and a smile on my face. Why? Because that's how I roll!!!

So...you're not seeing the humor in all of this yet, are you? Well, that's because I haven't shared all of the in-between stuff...the crazy antics that have gone on throughout these trials of mine. It is those events - and the people involved in them - that have kept me moving from one crisis to another, enabling me to get past the ugliness of it all and continue on my journey, where I know I will eventually see a big, glaring light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. My daughter has kidded me throughout this journey, saying that I'm "riding shotgun on The Struggle Bus". But I'm not riding shotgun at all...I'm driving this damn bus! With love, laughter, friends, family and a helluva lot of faith...I am going to reach a destination better than the one I'm in. I'm just taking a few "detours" on the way. But I sure am meeting a lot of great people, learning a lot about life and becoming a better person in the process. Friends and family have pushed, prodded and even insisted that I start using my writing skills to document some of my adventures, and I guess I finally decided to stop procrastinating. After all, this is a very precious life I'm living, and the odds are pretty much against me living to be incredibly old. But who knows what the future holds? This girl is by no means giving up; my job here is not done. 

Welcome to The Struggle Bus...Zippy's Tales have FINALLY begun!