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I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
A 25-year cancer survivor, Kathleen Brown is the Founder & CEO of buddhi, a wellness registry curated to reduce stress for you and the cancer fighter you love. Prior to this, she raised funds for cancer treatment and research working in corporate development and as a patient ambassador and volunteer for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital starting in 1995. She lives in the West Loop of Chicago with her sister and dog-ter Penelope and is always dreaming about her next adventure and concert experience.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
I was 36 years old when I realized that we are all dying. Before she passed away from Ewing’s sarcoma earlier this year, the late Fatima Ali of “Top Chef” fame wrote in Bon Appetit, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living. When that choice is yanked away from us, that’s when we scramble to feel.” While we cannot know what life has in store, it is up to each one of us to truly make our time count. I know that I still have more gifts left to give.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.
Complications from surgery landed me in a state of sepsis when a staph infection went rogue. With all hope lost, and loved ones praying by my bedside, fellow cancer-fighter Joseph Cardinal Bernardin was asked to perform the catholic sacrament “Anointing of the Sick” on me in the ICU. Without any medical explanation, my condition stabilized. It was either sheer determination, divine intervention, or plain old luck that I pulled through that brush with death. There were other plans in store for me.
The best gift I received during this time was from my parents, who did everything in their power to help me get well. Among other roles, my mom became my nurse, manager, punching bag, chauffeur, accountant, and publicist. My dad worked hard to make ends meet and control chaos at home. Fifteen months of treatment probably seemed like a lifetime for my whole family, including my siblings, who must have felt like they were sitting the bench in my big game. But it was one I never wanted to play. I can never repay them for giving up so much of themselves in the process of caring for me. Looking back, I wish the gifts I received could have helped my loved ones get well, too.
While I lay mystified on a bed in the hospital recovering from surgery, I had an onslaught of visitors. No one was talking about Deanna’s birthday party, instead friends and family were bringing me gifts, encouraging me to get well. “I mean,” I thought, “I guess I like Hootie & The Blowfish, but why do I now own 11 of their CDs?” Looking back, it was probably just as tough for my loved ones to accept my cancer diagnosis as it was for me. As human beings, our instinct is to take care of others and show we care. If only those CDs and get-well cards could have had that kind of impact on my health. As I have learned, people show their love in ways only they know how. Unless you have walked in those heavy shoes, you do not know what it is like, how to cope, or how to help someone else do the same. While my parents carefully considered a treatment plan, I was completely clueless that life as I knew it had blown up while under the knife.