Mystery Solved

Good Sunday morning, readers!

After some google research, I have discovered that I have blue underlined links automatically inserted throughout my blog because I use Google's free "blogger".  Apparently, it's all to help them pay for the service -- it's like watching advertisements on TV.  So far, I do not see any that are "inappropriate", so I'm asking you all to just read over them as if they aren't there.  They want a $30 upgrade (of course!) to eliminate all such automatic links from my blog.

I'm hoping that you are OK with just reading over them, pretending they're not there, since the post won't take you to the advertiser's website unless you click on it.  If y'all are NOT OK with this, I will do the $30 upgrade as I don't want to lose you as readers.

I don't very often go to my actual blog site and read from there.  I only discovered these links in the last few days.  Perhaps they have been there for some time and I didn't know it??

Once again, I apologize!

SORRY!!!

To my readers...

I have NO IDEA why, in the last few posts, my computer is inserting these annoying links for certain words (birth record, meeting, etc. etc.)

I will try to google why this is happening and do away with it!!

The latest one is something about online dating ... yikes!!

It is NOT my intention for these links to be there and I apologize.

Yvonne

Blessed by Meeting my Family

Over the course of the next days and weeks, Charlotte, Kevin, and I kept cyberspace hopping with our non-stop emailing. What delight I received from looking through hundreds of photos of my "new family" from my mother's wedding pictures, to baby photos of Charlotte and Kevin, to recent family outings. Within about a month of conversing with Charlotte and Kevin, I decided it was time to plan our first meeting. Originally, there was another reason I was supposed to be in the Edmonton area at the end of May, so I booked a flight for May 25.  YIKES -- this was really happening!! Would it be the fairy-tale ending I was envisioning, or would it be a train wreck I couldn't reign back in??

The three of us had umpteen conversations about who my biological father might be.  We all tried hard to convince ourselves that "Dad" (Charlotte's and Kevin's Dad) was my father.  Problem was, after a biology lesson from Kate on recessive and dominant eye-colour genes, it wasn't physically possible for blue-eyed "Dad" to be brown-eyed Yvonne's father. Who was he then??

Trying to convince myself, I argued that meeting my new sister and brother was enough -- that if I never got to meet my mother, that was OK.  In my brain, I understood the position Mom had stated to David 2 years previous that she could never meet me.  The last thing I wanted to do was crumble a 52-year marriage with one selfish phone call. In my heart, however, it was a totally different matter -- I wanted AND NEEDED to meet her! I do not remember conveying any of this to my siblings (correct me, guys, if I'm wrong) but, miraculously, Charlotte decided to talk to Mom on Easter weekend and tell her they knew about me.  Another "YIKES"!!! How would this walking-on-eggshells conversation turn out??

The long and short of it is this ... Charlotte's conversation with Mom went remarkably well. Mom confirmed that, yes, she had had a daughter two years before marrying Dad. I was the result of a rape that, understandably, she did not want to talk about. When I learned that fact I immediately burst into tears, fearing that she would never want to meet me -- a physical reminder of a horrific event. I couldn't have been more wrong! Mom was extremely anxious to meet me, but reconfirmed to Charlotte that Dad could never find out. A "Mission Impossible" plan was conceived by Kevin and Charlotte, that would remove Dad from the house, so I could "sneak" in and meet my mom.

Who among you does not believe in miracles?? I have yet another one to share with you :)

After living with a monumental secret for 52 years -- a secret I'm convinced was an albatross around her neck, weighing her down, and perhaps even affecting her health -- my Mom decided to tell Dad about me. THAT'S a miracle!! His reaction was also miraculous -- he couldn't wait to meet me!

Weeks, days, hours, then minutes were meticulously counted down between B.C. and Alberta. May 25 had arrived! After some extremely-frustrating delays (thanks Air Canada!!), I touched down in Edmonton to be greeted by my sister, brother, and niece. True to form of many movie scenes, I literally dropped my cumbersome suitcase in the middle of a busy airport, and ran with outstretched arms to my new family. Words cannot describe my feelings, so I won't try!

Edmonton Airport -- with Charlotte & Kevin at last!

We drove directly from the airport to Mom & Dad's home. Even though I thought my reserve tank of "happy tears" should have been empty after the airport experience, I blubbered my way to my Mom's home, and continued the happy-tear shower while hugging Mom and never wanting to let go. As I had my first hug from Dad, his heart-melting words were, "I just wish this meeting could have been sooner."

 My first moments with Mom.

Yes, that's my wig on my head --

I was still majorly bald at the time and didn't

want to freak her out!

Do you think we look alike?

During the next week, with Charlotte's home in Barrhead as home base, I was treated (princess-style, no less) to a tour of the entire area, including stops at old family homes, cemeteries, favourite 4-x-4-ing spots, picnics, campfires, and several return trips to Mom & Dad's in Edmonton.  It was a life-changing week of connecting with my siblings, meeting other relatives, and hearing story upon story of growing-up adventures.

Around the campfire with Kevin and Hub --

the man who, along with Maureen, 

assisted with this mind-blowing miracle coming together.

Charlotte & Dianne, Hub's wife.

Taffy (voted by Yvonne as Best Dog in the World)

joins us at the campfire.

Dad being goofy with a huge scoop

of delicious homemade ice cream!

  Outside Mom & Dad's house.

MY Mom and Dad -- my adoptive Mom & Dad, my incredible life-long Mom & Dad - were, and continue to be, so incredibly supportive of this entire process.  I wouldn't have, couldn't have undertaken this adventure without the encouragement and blessing of Mom, Dad, and Maureen.

My life-long Mom & Dad.

I'm sure if my heart was x-rayed, the radiologist would say, "You have an enlarged heart, Yvonne." My heart has mushroomed, expanded, and almost exploded with love for both of my families. There needs to be a word created for "more than love", because that's what I feel for all these precious people in my life.

I am, of all women, most blessed!!

"Pieces of Me" - a poem

I wrote the following poem for Charlotte and Kevin, my new-found brother and sister, on February 21, 2013 -- just five short days after our very first email conversation.  I share it with you after having asked their permission. They are so generous, accommodating, and wonderful, I knew they wouldn't say no :) 

"Pieces of Me"

Always,

All my life ...

   discontent.

Happy, yet searching,

Watching faces, anxiously

Waiting, expectantly

Always,

   discontent.

Missing pieces of me.

A sister-shaped void,

A brother-shaped hole.

Missing pieces of me ...

   incomplete.

How can this be?

Strangers days ago

But now ...

   part of me.

We are each other,

Yet unique.

Incomprehensible

How you have captured my heart,

   my thoughts,  my being.

Overjoyed,

My heart is full,

   bursting,

   oozing love.

How will I explain?

Can you understand?

You are my precious treasures.

Found pieces of me.

     Yvonne, Feb. 21, 2013

      With much love, for Charlotte & Kevin, my "found pieces"

Powering Through Tough Times

Over the last few weeks, I have really been struggling with the possibility of reoccurence.  Up until now, I have done my best to maintain a hugely positive attitude, never even considering the possibility that I might experience cancer rearing its ugly head again.  But, this disease is ruthless, selfish, deviant, and spellbinding. I was having a difficult time shaking the pessimism. Trying to put my finger on this newly-negative outlook, I wondered if it's because I had my mammogram, and am soon to have my liver CT and my first oncologist check-up. Bad news has been the outcome of these tests and screenings before! Also, it seems like many times a day, I get a twinge or pain and immediately assume the cancer's back.  Funny thing, though, is that I did not have ONE twinge or pain the first time around, so ... not quite sure where my reasoning (or lack of it) stems from. Over the weekend, my chest area and upper arm were quite painful (perhaps due to many tight hugs on Thanksgiving weekend!), and I'm very sure the area surrounding my tissue expander is swollen to twice it's "normal" size.  Why does my brain equate these things with having cancer again??

In a few short days ... November 4, to be exact ... I will celebrate remember the one-year anniversary of receiving my diagnosis.  Perhaps this plays a role in me thinking about getting yet another diagnosis.

Yesterday, I tried to reason with myself, arguing that I have a strong faith and I'd better smarten up and start trusting.  During morning workout today, I was doing an exercise where you lift a 10# medicine ball above your head and then, while squatting down, slam it into the floor as hard as possible.  Vicky, the coach, said, "Way to power through, Yvonne!"  A light bulb went on for me at that moment! I need to power through this negative attitude! Now, I'm not such a perfectionist (well, maybe) that I think a negative thought will never dance and skitter its way across my brain. However, I'm bound and determined to return to my former optimistic attitude.  My steps ARE NOT by accident, they are ordered -- each and every one of them!

I will power through, physically and emotionally!!

Part Two: THE Best Valentines Gift

Fast forward from yesterday's story to February 13, 2013. Just a reminder that, at the time, I was in Victoria and had just started doing chemo. The phone call came from Maureen ...

"I wanted to get you the best Valentines gift, so I tried to get you a picture of your birth mother."

The miracle part of this -- the "blow-my-mind", "unbelievably-amazing", "I-can't-conceive-of-this" part -- is that Maureen and I DON'T do Valentines.  What sisters do? Her desire to get me a Valentines gift is absolutely, positively the result of our newly-intimate, loving relationship brought about because of cancer.

Maureen went on to tell me the following story (I will recollect the details as accurately as I possibly can.  If, however, I get a few bits wrong ... the end result is the same!) ...

My mother had listed "teacher" as her occupation on my birth record, so Maureen's hope was that there might be archives of old class pictures hiding away in some musty corner of a school library. To help her locate a picture, Maureen contacted an old acquaintance who happened to be a teacher in the right area of Alberta to do some digging. He talked to a friend, who talked to a friend and ... before she knew it, Maureen had an email with the name of my sister and brother, as well as the name and phone number of my cousin. After wrestling with what to do for an entire work day, she decided to use the phone number!

Unknown to Maureen, was the fact that one of the friends that talked to a friend knew my family fairly well.  That person called my cousin, Hub, and gave him a heads up that some woman was poking around asking questions and looking for pictures. Therefore, it didn't come as a complete surprise when Maureen called Hub to relay her story and fill him in as to why she was looking for a picture of my mother.

After agreeing to talk again in a few days' time, the conversation between Maureen and cousin Hub ended with a promise that he would do his level best to get his hands on a picture of  my mother, Evelyn. In reality, that conversation started a life-changing chain of events. The next several days were filled with phone calls, visits, and emails between Maureen, cousin Hub, my sister, Charlotte, and my brother, Kevin.

On February 16, 2013, I had the FIRST EVER communication with a member of my birth family -- an email from my sister, Charlotte. I'm sure a little skeptical about all the new information she had learned about having an older sister, Charlotte asked me to send my birth record from the hospital. The evidence was unmistakable -- the three of us were siblings! I remember appreciating so much that Kevin signed his FIRST email, "Your little brother, Kevin." I cried until my body shook when I read each new email that arrived.  I've never watched the "Inbox" icon on my email so closely, and would ecstatically click the newest message to dissect every phrase and examine each  new picture Kevin and Charlotte sent. When the very first picture of my mother arrived, I carried my laptop out to Kate's living room with tears streaming down my face, repeating over and over, "This is my mother! This is my mother!" At 54 years old, I had finally seen, with my own eyes, what my birth mom looked like.

The first picture I saw of my mother, Evelyn and her husband, Oswald.

Looking back, it is astonishing to me how quickly Charlotte and Kevin accepted the facts of who I was. They tell me the clincher was learning, from the birth record, that I had been named "Gladys Doreen" -- a name with special significance to my mother. (I'm secretly grateful I escaped the name Gladys! Yvonne is so much better, don't you think?!?) I couldn't get enough of Charlotte and Kevin during those first few days and weeks.  The emails were flying back and forth faster than pitches at the World Series. I felt hungry and thirsty for more and more information, and my siblings complied. I was like a sponge, soaking up knowledge about these wonderful new people in my life.

Here are the first pictures I received of Kevin and Charlotte.

Pouring my heart out onto a computer screen, I wrote emails with an ease I can only describe as uncanny.  A quiet person by nature, particularly with those I don't know well, it just felt right to open up my heart and soul, expose the real me, and pray that they'd love me even when they learned my life hadn't been a bed of roses. The only way I can describe the feeling was that I "fit" with these people - almost as if pieces of me had been missing, and now those pieces were found.

I marvel at the fact that I can love this new family so very, very much, yet love Maureen and my Mom & Dad more than ever.  It's as if, as I require more love to go around, God just fills up my heart with more and more to give.

If this was a blog about adoptees being reunited with their birth families, I would go on and on with more and more details, but it's a blog about battling and surviving cancer. I do have more to say (and will in another post in a day or two) about meeting my birth family, and how that came about. For now, however, I will remind you that cancer brings blessings into your life!

Blessings so huge, you think you will burst!

Blessings I would NEVER trade -- not even to have lived out my life cancer-free. 

Abundant Blessings ... #4

On February 13, 2013, Maureen called me with the words, "I wanted to get you the best Valentines gift, so . . . "

Part One:  Let me backtrack just a bit ...

Growing up, my family would not have been considered a communicative family.  There was no talk about the birds and the bees, no bearing my soul about teenage problems, no mother-daughter bedtime chats revealing hopes and dreams. That's why it's so amazing to me that I ALWAYS knew I was adopted. I don't remember any, "Sit down, Yvonne. Your mother and I have something important to tell you." I just always, always, always knew. And ... I was OK with it.  We had our quirky dysfunctions but, all in all, I felt we were as "normal" as any other family, so being adopted wasn't half-bad.

Maureen searched for, and found, her birth family almost 30 years ago.  At the time, I had no desire to find by birth mom.  Perfectly content with the family I had, I said "No thank you!" when Maureen offered to do some digging for me as well.  However, she sent me a card and, among other things, wrote down my birth mother's name and year of birth that she had found in our adoption papers. Tearing off that tiny piece of the card, I stuck it in a random file folder just in case I might ever want it. I moved that tiny piece of paper from home to home over the course of many years, not giving it more than a few seconds' thought each time I noticed it.

While cleaning out the filing cabinet for a move about 3 years ago, it was like that piece of paper jumped up and bit me. Instantly, I wanted to locate this woman who had given me life ... and then given me away.  I have no idea where this desire came from after not wanting or needing her for 52 years.  Even though this yearning was burning a hole in my heart, I did not voice it to anyone.

Several weeks after David and I were settled into our new home, he asked, "Have you ever thought about finding your birth mother? I think it would be a good idea." Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather! "Funny you should ask that!", I answered.

If David wasn't a forester and project manager, he could have been a very successful private investigator. He was excellent at knowing where to start the process and how to dig for information. Working from sketchy details contained on the birth record we secured from Chilliwack Hospital, David pieced together enough information to get a hold of my birth mother's brother. After a few conversations, we had my mother's married name and phone number.  Now ... what to do with that information?? I realized it shouldn't be me who called -- if a call was to be made.  After two days of thinking, processing, crying, and stressing, I asked David if he would call her on my behalf. I didn't want to be within earshot of his voice, not wanting to hear even his side of the conversation.  The long and short of it is that she spoke with David for about 10 minutes, but told him she could never speak with me.  You see, she had gotten married about two years after I was born, and her husband didn't know I existed.

Devastated, I cried and pouted for a few weeks. Wanting to give it one more shot, I wrote my mother a letter, telling her about the little piece of card, giving details about my life growing up, and including several pictures of me, David, and my four girls. I figured, "What have I got to lose?" -- maybe she'll read it, and maybe she won't, but at least I tried.

I honestly thought that would be the last contact I would ever have.  I gave up all hope.

Cancer had other plans!

A One-Breasted Mammogram

I'm still not entirely sure why my first official "check up" was a mammogram of my existing breast. However, at an appointment later yesterday afternoon to check the healing progress of my most recent incision, my surgeon told me to take advantage of every check up opportunity I was offered. She's absolutely correct -- don't look a gift mammogram in the mouth.  Blessed with universal health care in Canada, if a professional wants to give me a mammogram, CT, MRI, or basic feel up -- I'll take it!

My assumption is that I will receive a mammogram on my left breast only the rest of my life. Maureen asked me during a phone call later in the day how I get my right "breast" checked in the future.  I don't have the answer to that question, but I sure will be asking. Even though there is zero breast tissue remaining on my right side, there is still skin and muscle and, therefore, the possibility of cancer cells growing again.

With only one mildly uncomfortable breast-squishing to endure, the procedure went quite quickly. The technologist asked me to sit and wait while she checked with the radiologist to see if the picture was clear. Those seconds ticked by in slow agony.  When the seconds grew into minutes, the irrational part of my brain imagined all sorts of wild and not-so-wonderful scenarios.

     "Yvonne, we see a lump in your left breast and will be taking you immediately
       to the ultrasound room for a biopsy."

     "Yvonne, we regret to inform you that your left breast is now filled with cancer.
       Please contact your surgeon ASAP to book another radical mastectomy."

After about 10 minutes, the technologist did finally return.  Her words were ...

     "Yvonne, the picture is nice and clear for the radiologist to read.
      We'll see you in one year."

I realize that IF anything untoward was brewing in my breast, I would be getting another mammogram way sooner than one year. But, her words were very reassuring after what my imagination had put me through.

My surgeon asked me if I had received my 3-month physical check up yet.  This was the first I heard of needing it.  Yes, I go see my oncologist in December, but no one had told me I needed a physical exam every 3 months for 3 years, and then every 6 months for 3 years.  Now that's thorough.  So, off I go again in November for a physical check up and my liver CT.

Will these medical appointments ever end?? Oh right -- count my blessings for universal health care!

Abundant Blessings ... #3

The light of life sparkles in my eyes.  I'm here -- I'm on the right side of the grass! Even though I have grappled with many things over the last year, the positives so greatly outweigh the negatives. A cancer diagnosis changes every relationship in your life.  It's simply impossible for your connection with another person to not be adjusted when faced with a life-altering event. For a few relationships in my life, my diagnosis marked the beginning of a slow and insidious death. For others, it was the dawn of new levels of sharing and caring.

Blessing #3: My sister, Maureen

For all of my 55 years, Maureen has been my big sister. Older than me by two years, she was the one I played Barbie's with, fought with, snuck out with, loved, and hated.  Maureen and I do not share any genes in common, as we were both adopted by our parents at birth. One only has to look at our physical appearance to find evidence of this fact.  She's a string bean, the skinny Jolly Green Giant, and I'm ... NOT! We are also very different people internally in a myriad of ways.

I suppose it's natural, as the little sister, to have constantly sought my big sister's approval. In the past, inferiority plagued me any time we were together,and I never felt like I measured up.  She was always taller, skinnier, prettier, and more successful (in my mind, anyway).

Cancer changed our relationship!

Poor Maureen has been nicknamed "Dr. Lewis" by our family for several years.  Having been B.C.'s best nurse (in my opinion) for greater than 30 years, Maureen is always the "go to" person when any of us has a medical issue or question.  Obviously, she was one of my first phone calls after I got my diagnosis. Over the next months, whenever my brain felt littered with questions, Dr. Lewis came to the rescue and, if she didn't know the answer, she investigated for me.

It is overwhelming for me to think how deep and complex the layers of caring are that Maureen has shown to me this year. Remember when I was ready to walk away from chemo during cycle 1? It was Maureen that talked me through the nausea, pain, and devastation I felt. Traveling over 7 hours each way, Maureen came to cook Easter dinner, spent an entire week with me at the trailer in Kelowna, and motivated me through the 5 km run on Sunday. If I had a dime for every phone call she has made, checking up on me, making sure I'm not overdoing it, or answering a medical question, I could retire! Every call ends with the words, "I love you so much and I'm so proud of you!"-- every call. She is gracing me with the validation I have sought my entire life.

Maureen in Ashcroft for Easter

Previously, there was never doubt that we loved each other, but now the "obligation love" has transformed into genuine, expressive, from-the-heart love. Maureen has become my soft place to fall -- a place with acceptance, validation, unconditional love, sentimentality, and a new closeness I didn't know we would ever experience.

Celebrating the end of another week of radiation in Kelowna

It was this cancer-induced expression of love that brought the HUGEST

blessing of my cancer journey.  On February 13, 2013, Maureen called me with the words, "I wanted to get you the best Valentines gift, so . . ."

PS: the sentence ends in Abundant Blessings ... #4 :) :)

CIBC Run for the Cure

The day to don my pink garb, strap on the runners, and cross the finish line after 5 km of huffing and puffing finally arrived! Over a  month ago, I registered for the CIBC Run for the Cure, an event totally dedicated to fighting breast cancer through treatment and research.  As of a few minutes ago, their website (Run for the Cure) states that $27 million was raised nationally through donations to the run.

Initially, I really wanted to put together a team (minimum of 10 people), but people's lives are busy and finding 10 people wasn't easy.  Therefore, I registered as an individual, as did Esther and my sister, Maureen to do the run in Kamloops. Even though they had hoped to make it to Ashcroft, Rachel and Stu registered to run simultaneously in Victoria.

After having arrived yesterday from Trail, Maureen had me up at the crack of dawn to get organized and on the road to Kamloops by 8:30 a.m. Alone, because Maureen and I had to travel in separate vehicles, I shed many tears on the way.  I couldn't really explain why I was crying -- angry that breast cancer felt so close and personal; overjoyed that I felt well enough to be even trying the run, melancholy that my whole family wouldn't be there.  I pulled it together by the time we parked and, after meeting Esther and her friend, Kristy, we headed off to Riverside Park.

Esther and I ready to start

There was a tangible energy and excitement in the air. It's remarkable how a common goal creates an instant camaraderie, particularly among those of us wearing the pink "survivor" shirts. After the opening ceremonies and a warm-up by the "Get Cracking" team, we were off!  Initially, the large crowd at the start made it difficult to do more than walk, however, after a 1/2 km or so, we were able to get up to a slow run.  The 5 km was a pleasant mix of running and walking and, as we passed my surgeon's office (the woman who lopped off my right breast!) about 1 km from the finish line, I determined I wanted to run from there to the end.  Maureen  offered constant encouragement as I expended my last ounce of energy to get to the finish line.  Exhilarated by the cheering spectators, we sprinted the last 100 m.

Maureen and I nearing the end.

I DID IT!!!

The most moving part of the day for me was the "Survivors' Parade", part of the Closing Ceremonies. The Kamloops Breast Cancer Dragon Boat team formed an archway with their paddles, and all us survivors walked through together, receiving a pink daisy at the end.  Standing arm-in-arm for photos with all these remarkable women brought more tears to my eyes.

I'm a Survivor!!!

 The 5 km was a whole lot like the last year of my life -- simply put one foot in the front of the other, and it's amazing how far you can get!

Never give up!!

PS:  Even with my discomfort asking people for donations, I managed to raise $400 for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation. I already have so many plans to do better next year. However, if you have a desire to make a contribution this year, simply go to the link above and click on "Donate Now".  It can be a general donation, or can be made in my name by searching for me as a participant.

  

Abundant Blessings ... #2

If you had the ability to edit your life, would you? When you look back at your raw footage -- layers of images, stories, conversations, and events -- what would make the "final cut" and which bits would end up on the editing room floor?

My raw footage IS my final cut.  Even though I've experienced many rough patches along with the times of smooth sailing, I'm keeping it all!

Blessing #2:  Daughters

I have been, of all women, MOST blessed! I have four beautiful, precious daughters; Rachel, 30; Esther 24 (yesterday!); Kate, 22; and Joy, 20.

When I first got my diagnosis, I felt like I needed my girls close to me, for them. My thought was that if they were able to see me with their own eyes, they would have the reassurance that I was "OK".  In reality, however, I needed them close to me, for me. Their strength, their encouragement, their reassurance, their push, would all be vital to me over the next many months.

As any mother knows, each child is a unique treasure -- at times, so unlike their siblings one would question whether they had any genes in common. As individual as my girls are, so too was the uniqueness of how each one supported me along my journey.

Rachel, and her husband, Stu, opened their Victoria home and welcomed me into their guest bedroom for three months. Having such a gorgeous home and location to recuperate and walk between each chemo cycle was instrumental in maintaining a positive attitude. Rachel came with me to doctor appointments and chemo. We shopped together, cooked together, and watched too much TV together. 

Once I returned home to Ashcroft, there was not an appointment or chemo cycle that Esther missed.  She faithfully sat by my side during 6 and 7-hour marathon chemo sessions in Kamloops, and made sure I was never alone traveling to my appointments and consultations in Kelowna. For a young woman who needs every hour of work she can get, Esther never let earning a dollar stand in the way of supporting her mom.

Kate -- where do I even begin -- Kate was my "rock"... and my rock star! Her support began when she surprised me for my mastectomy and proved herself to be the world's most dedicated, doting nurse possible. Her care continued in Victoria, attending appointments, chemo, and sitting with me, wiping my face as I threw up after my first chemo cycle. A ruthless expert with the Neupogen needle, Kate did her share of stabbing me! In Ashcroft for the summer, she motivated me to get moving, encouraged me to eat healthy, and provided hours and hours of laughter, enjoyment, and company.

With us for the entire month of December, Joy was my private (and cheap) physiotherapist.  She maintained the perfect balance of loving supporter and hard task-master persuading me to push past what was comfortable each day.  I attribute the excellent range of motion I have today to her ability to motivate me.  Once she was in Alberta, inspirational messages became her expertise and she intuitively knew exactly when I needed one to get through my day.

Precious girls, I could not have done this without you!