Bee Connected

The other day a bee landed on the hood of my car. This happens a lot to me. I have this idea in mind that since he passed away, Jimmy sends me bees. I always called him a “worker bee.” He had two speeds. All in or asleep. When I saw this cute little bee resting on my car, it made my heart smile.

I got in the car and started driving down the street. My thought was this little bee would fly away, but as I gained speed down the street, this fuzzy guy hung on for dear life. I pulled over and we had a little stare down. I sat there looking at the bee and worried about it. Especially since I thought it may be a little conduit to Jimmy. I rummaged around my car and found a couple pieces of mail and stepped out to work on removing the bee. I should mention that I was so allergic to bees as a child that I had to get little shots of bee venom to get some immunity. Getting stung isn’t a picnic for me, but I took my chances. I scooched the bee onto my piece of mail and set him down on the grass - upside down! (Oops!) His legs started kicking at me… so, I flipped him over as gently as possible with an envelope containing a coupon for the new pizza place! Not great to make a bee mad at you even when you are trying to help them.

I literally said goodbye to the bee and headed back out on the open road… to Trader Joes.

The whole drive, I worried about the bee. I started to think I was a bit of a nutter. I also worried that my neighbors were watching and trying to figure out what I was up to now. However! What is better than empathy? Feeling for others is what makes us better. To some, it is just a bee. To me, it has a little heartbeat. We all have a heartbeat. I wonder if that should be basic empathy training. Remember we are all fluttering around with our hearts beating, trying to land somewhere safe to come up with a good solid idea of what to do next. I feel like this is something else that is a gift from Jimmy. I am more in tune with how we all need connection and understanding.

While I see so many neuroendocrine cancer families dealing with treatments, decisions, appointments, pain, and a long list of other things, I can’t help but feel that we are all carrying so much. We cannot pick up all of the burdens for everyone, but I sure can empathize with the way this cancer changes our lives. We have different pathways to take, but we are all on the same highway. I know that sometimes we may think we know what someone else needs but in reality, we can only listen and know they are choosing the course that works for them. Showing empathy in these situations makes such a difference. Sometimes, I think we approach decisions clinically and with good reason. We are all trying to be well versed on the available treatments and want to share our knowledge. We are so blessed in this community to have support. All the information can start to overwhelm us. After all, sometimes we are tired and need a place to rest our bodies and minds. For those that may need some extra kindness and understanding, our efforts to show up for them is healing to all of us. I know that is never the wrong decision. Advice can be tricky but boy, a little true understanding can carry someone over a rough patch on their journey.

Empathy is a great way to connect with a fellow caregiver or someone living with NET cancer. It is a chance to understand another person’s perspective and be able to honestly say, “I understand what you are dealing with.” Confirming that their feelings on their decisions or health are being heard by a fellow heartbeat, can change someone’s stress level or their outlook on themselves. I love the neuroendocrine cancer community, because we tend to practice this already. I sometimes wonder if that is part of the secret sauce in our community. We are incredibly kind to one another. I hear all the time how incredible the NET world is at being knowledgeable and approachable.

As you navigate your path, please know that the Healing NET is a soft spot to land if you need some understanding with a side of empathy.

In case you are wondering, I did not look for the bee on the way home from Trader Joes, but I did buy the honeycomb dipped in chocolate to have as a snack. Not sure if that is pro bee or not, but I sure hope so. It was delicious. As we turn toward the slower pace of summer, keep an eye out for some little signs like a bee, reminding us to hydrate and rest. I hope you take some time to be extra kind to those around you and take good care of yourself. Your beating heart is important.

Karalyn

PS. A few days after I wrote this article, I wasn’t feeling well and had a doctor's appointment. As I left the house, a bee flew in front of my car and escorted me until I turned out of my neighborhood. It was either a kind of happy coincidence or a full circle moment. Either way, it made me think of Jimmy and in all the ways I am reminded of his giving, hardworking spirit.

A Visit with Dr. Heloisa Soares at the Huntsman Cancer Institute

Dealing with my husband Jimmy’s neuroendocrine cancer diagnosis in 2004, I had dreams of finding a center that could address all the health needs that came with his diagnosis. We went to a large hospital in Los Angeles for some of his NET cancer concerns and received good care, but sometimes we needed more specialized care that wasn’t available there. We found ourselves saving up and hitting the friendly skies to visit another doctor to take care of a tricky surgery or to seek treatment that wasn’t available locally. We had to do a lot of personal research on neuroendocrine cancer and became a couple of experts at a time when there wasn’t much information available. Now, in 2026, I am grateful to see the strides being made to provide neuroendocrine cancer care. I am happy to know that more education and opportunities are available.

Over time, I plan to visit neuroendocrine cancer centers across the country to share what is being offered for the NET community. For my first stop, I traveled to Salt Lake City to shadow Dr. Heloisa Soares at the University of Utah’s Huntsman Cancer Institute. From the moment I arrived, to my departure and during the days since, I have felt the impact of this visit and cannot wait to share it with all of you.

I met up with Dr. Soares in her clinic. I had received approval from Huntsman to meet some of her patients, listen in and spend a little time with them discussing their neuroendocrine journey. I was able to share that the Healing NET Foundation has general information on our website, along with patient stories and NET publications. I also shared that we are always interested in hearing their NET stories.

Walking in with the permission of the patients and seeing the faces of both the caregiver and the patient when they saw Dr. Soares enter the room was inspiring, to say the least. Dr. Soares spent time going over the medical history and scans of her patient before stepping into the room. Her confident and informed manner set everyone at ease. The compassion and comfort that she carries with her is palpable. At first glance, you see people rather concerned about scan results, labs, and the good old “what’s next” conversation. I remember feeling the overwhelming emotions around these visits. It was lovely to see how her patients opened up to her in the ample time she gave them. She would keep an eye on the support person, whether a spouse or parent or friend, and made sure to connect with everyone. I listened as she talked through the next steps and felt the shift in the room when the patients felt heard and respected. Honestly, the decisions being made in these situations are difficult. Every step leading to the next can be taxing for both the patient and the doctor.

The Huntsman Cancer Institute at the University of Utah has given a lot of thought to the needs of the NET community. I appreciate Huntsman for the care that goes into the patient long before they make the trip to Huntsman. From the moment a patient has an appointment, they are offered literature on their health concern with guidance and follow up throughout their care. There is so much patient and caregiver support from the neuroendocrine program that I had to remind myself to stop grinning at every corner.

The team regularly sees local patients, patients from rural areas, and people from other states, including Nevada, Wyoming, Montana and Idaho. Spencer Pugmire, the NET Program Coordinator at Huntsman, sees to all the details and scheduling of appointments. The team knows what tests are available for patients where they live and what needs to be done on site, which makes the trip to Huntsman more manageable and efficient. I was impressed by the way Spencer runs the clinic.

The Destination Care team helps patients with travel logistics. They use the Southwest Airlines Medical Transportation Grant Program (MTGP) to pay for airfare for those that live more than 200 miles away. They have made an agreement with a local childcare center very near the Cancer Institute that provides safe care for the children of patients for a low fee. They have discounted lodging available as well. This team goes above and beyond to help with circumstances as they arise. Breanna Loyola, Megan Jones and Audrey Laney are professionals providing a big dose of kindness while they help patients navigate the stresses of traveling for health care

I always say that anyone diagnosed with neuroendocrine cancer should find a palliative care team. Dr. Cari Low, Medical Director of the University of Utah Supportive and Palliative Care Program, and the team address patients’ pain and the other symptoms that can interfere with the quality of life for people diagnosed with NET cancer.

The Linda B. and Robert B. Wiggins Wellness & Integrative Health Center at Huntsman Cancer Institute is led by Dr. Shelley White. This beautiful space offers acupuncture, massage, cooking classes, music therapy, and fitness classes, just to name a few. It’s an amazing facility for those living with cancer. The more people can take care of their overall health, the better treatment can go for them. The Healing NET Foundation’s SEES program addresses the importance of Sleep, Eat, Exercise and Spirit and will be held at Huntsman’s wellness center on October 3, 2026. Please join us!

I always say that anyone diagnosed with neuroendocrine cancer should find a palliative care team. Dr. Cari Low, Medical Director of the University of Utah Supportive and Palliative Care Program, and the team address patients’ pain and the other symptoms that can interfere with the quality of life for people diagnosed with NET cancer.

The Linda B. and Robert B. Wiggins Wellness & Integrative Health Center at Huntsman Cancer Institute is led by Dr. Shelley White. This beautiful space offers acupuncture, massage, cooking classes, music therapy, and fitness classes, just to name a few. It’s an amazing facility for those living with cancer. The more people can take care of their overall health, the better treatment can go for them. The Healing NET Foundation’s SEES program addresses the importance of Sleep, Eat, Exercise and Spirit and will be held at Huntsman’s wellness center on October 3, 2026. Please join us!

A Glimmer of Connection in the Midst of Chaos

Gradon, Jimmy and Kyle

There was a time when my sons, yes sons, both of them, broke their feet. My oldest thought it would be cool to show his friends at college that he could jump down a whole flight of stairs and really did a number on a major bone is his right foot. My youngest hurt his foot bowling. We cannot figure out how, but the Faulkner boys could always find a way to do something random. Jimmy, my husband, was in the hospital about an hour and a half away, dealing with complications from surgery.

I would get up, take the youngest to high school in his boot, drive the oldest to college in the opposite direction and then turn around and drive to Los Angeles to be with Jimmy. I would then leave there and do a repeat in backward motion to get the boys. Sometimes, we could go straight back to the hospital so they could see their dad.

My son didn’t tell me about his broken foot from jumping down the staircase. He had driven with Kyle to Cedars-Sinai to see their dad and I happened to notice him walking funny for a brief second. Gradon didn’t want to burden me with one more thing. He felt so bad about it. He confessed the injury and I took him into an orthopedics office the next day. The fracture was a bad one and he was close to needing surgery. He could not put any weight on it for six weeks and then he was leaving for an internship. That internship was keeping our spirits up throughout a rough health phase of Jimmy’s. So, the routine to drive two extra hours a day felt like a mission to me! He was going on that internship if I had anything to do with it. My youngest, Kyle, was not going to miss school or be late, all because even though he couldn’t drive either. Hilariously, I always fretted about them driving and at that moment, I had a change of heart…Wishing they could drive and be free.

I didn’t know how to handle this any other way because I was in deep caregiver mode. I only knew how to take care of my family. I felt the burden so deeply, I didn’t want to give that same feeling to anyone else. I didn’t want my kids to think they were not important. I did not want Jimmy to worry about them, while he was not doing well. So, I didn’t ask for help.

One day, my friend encouraged me to take the coast down to the hospital instead of the freeway. She made me promise to sit near the waves and listen to them ebb and flow. (Shout out to Wells Miller!) I felt so much stress about taking this little detour for so many reasons. Jimmy was waiting for me. Though I had a routine that was working, I did what my friend suggested and drove to a little stretch of beach that I had never been to before. I sat there, next to Point Mugu Rock, and listened to the waves and walked around looking for sea glass. (Not a stellar sea glass beach and I was a little bitter about that.) I started to feel the sun shining down on me and I let myself send some feelings out to sea. I let the constant voice in my head telling me to be on high alert go a bit. I let the feeling of not being good enough at handling everything leave my mind straight away. I remembered that I was doing what I could. I was even taking 15 whole minutes at the beach! Just me and a few seagulls that were not happy with me for being without snacks.

I remembered that I had two choices at this moment in time. One, fall apart. I really thought about it. I felt the urge to bawl my eyes out, chase away the seagulls or scream out to the ocean waves. I had done that in the past and would also in the future…but at this moment, I felt a tug to go in a different direction. This rush of happiness showed up. I realized how much I missed spending time driving my kids around town. I missed those days of sports and lessons and carpool. Now, they were literally trapped in the car with ME! And I was going to utilize this time to connect with them. Let me tell you, it turned into one of the best times for me. I got to wave at all of Kyles friends in the parking lot at his school (he just loved that. LOL) and I got to see the people (girls) waiting for Gradon at college to help him in the door with his backpack and crutches. We would stop for coffee sometimes, or a meal. I got to really listen to them while we drove on all the freeways (the 118, the 23, the 101, the 5, 170 or the 405 freeways) in southern California on the daily. Traffic? Yep. You know what? Not so bad when you can pepper your kids with questions and conversations!

I did rely on friends and family to help feed the dogs and my chickens. Sometimes the dogs were fed more than once. My dog Otis looked like a giant pug balloon in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. Much to his dismay, we made a chart to sign if you fed the dogs. I asked Jim’s friends to visit him at the hospital when I just couldn’t be there. Our family and friends loved helping us however they could. It was not difficult to ask but made me feel bad. That does get easier over time. Don’t stop asking for help! At some point Jimmy was released from the hospital and was home in our living room/makeshift hospital room and that was a help! Sometimes, he would come along with me to drop the kids off at their schools.

Kyle, Gradon and Jimmy

We even started to feel cool. I mean, how rare is it that your whole family is hurt all at once? I took photos of them. They felt a connection of some sort. When parenting older kids, we want to feel we are bonding or on the same wavelength of life. Some of my best conversations happened during this time. I do look back at that time and realize how fortunate I am. My husband was cared for. My kids were doing normal young men things like hurting themselves having fun. Overall, I wanted more than anything for them to have a “normal” life while we were navigating NET cancer. Sometimes I felt like we were an after school special on TV. But hey, we were making it work. Everything feels bigger when you are already dealing with an illness in your home. Things can stack up quickly, but we rocked it when we could!

Pretty soon, the kids healed up and Gradon left for CERN (European Organization for Nuclear Research) for his summer internship and Kyle was back to driving himself to his summer life of work and friends. I went back to missing that time with them. You realize that living with a loved one with cancer in your life is time consuming and to have a break to just focus on your family, even if it is in the car, is a gift. It is healing to know they are great to be around.

I couldn’t take away Jim’s cancer, and I couldn’t make my children stop growing up and moving on, but I chose to relish a period of time when we were together in our own way when times were difficult. I can look back and remember our conversations and what was borrowed time. It’s a win for me. It’s a win.

I hope that as you deal with difficult things that you must show up for, there is a moment where things feel right. Where the connection to your loved ones or community clicks and empowers you to steady yourself with the love around you. The Healing NET Foundation is here to support you and encourage you to take care of yourself. You are important.

Life in the Rowboat: A Caregiver's Story

By: Elizabeth Patton

Hello, my name is Elizabeth Patton. I live in Carlsbad, California with my husband, Mark, and our three wonderful children.

Mark was first diagnosed with a neuroendocrine tumor (NET) in his lung when he was just 11 years old. After the removal of his lung and five years of clear scans, he was declared cured and sent on his way.

Sixteen years later, in 2006 — just one year after we were married — he was re- diagnosed at age 27.

We were newlyweds. We were completely shell-shocked. It felt like our life had just begun.

Mark and I met on our very first day of college, in our very first class. From the moment we locked eyes, I knew there was something special about him. We became friends, then best friends, and then husband and wife — the easiest and best decision I’ve ever made.

From the beginning, I knew Mark had ongoing stomach issues. After we were married, those symptoms worsened, and I encouraged him to see a gastroenterologist. We suspected Crohn’s disease or irritable bowel syndrome. We were not prepared for the words “NET cancer.”

After a colonoscopy and endoscopy, we learned he had a second primary tumor on his false vocal cord — which needed immediate removal — along with metastases to his liver. Looking back, the cancer was likely there all along, quietly present from age 11 to 27.

After the initial shock and grief, we shifted into action mode. Mark, his mother Karen, and I traveled across the country, attending conferences and meeting with specialists to learn everything we could about this rare disease. We were determined to find the best possible care.

Through close family friends and a fortunate internet search, we found Dr. Woltering and his team in New Orleans. It was the best decision we could have made.

In 2007, Mark underwent a nine-hour surgery during which 82 tumors were removed from his liver, along with additional lesions in surrounding tissue. It was an arduous procedure — but it gave us time. Nearly 20 years later, Mark is alive because of that surgery.

Along the way, we met extraordinary people who carried us through the darkest moments. As a caregiver, I don’t know where I would be without the support of friends who have become family. There is something profoundly comforting about being with people who truly understand. It’s a silent knowing. A shared strength. A peace that doesn’t require explanation.

Organizations like Healing Net provide more than information — they provide connection. For patients and caregivers, that connection is invaluable. It is irreplaceable.

As a caregiver, your focus narrows. Your job becomes helping your loved one navigate each day — whether it’s managing new pain, calming anxiety before a scan, or supporting them through moments of depression. You want them to be in the best place possible mentally and physically.

But it’s not always easy.

Sometimes I am consumed with worry while wearing a smile and projecting positivity. Holding those opposing emotions can feel confusing and exhausting. Yet I’ve learned that this tension is normal. We move forward by staying diligent, staying hopeful, and choosing to live as fully as possible — despite what we’ve been handed.

I have even, at times, referred to Mark’s NET as a gift.

Not because we would have chosen it — we never would — but because it has sharpened our perspective. It has clarified what matters. It has shaped the way we live each day. A diagnosis changes you. If you let it, it can change you for the better. That, in its own way, is a gift.

What Mark and I have learned above all else is the power of partnership.

A caregiver is not just support — they are a teammate, a cheerleader, a therapist, a voice of reason, an encourager, and a steady shoulder to lean on. Mark often says he is grateful to be in life’s rowboat with me. When one of us grows tired, the other pulls harder. (He likes to say I pull more often.)

That’s how we stay grounded. That’s how we endure. That’s how we thrive.

You get in the rowboat together — and you pull with all your might.

Let it Snow

Happy New Year!

How many of you opened up that new calendar and looked at the month of January as a clean slate? Did you join me in thinking this month and year are both filled with possibilities for productivity and personal growth? I sure did until this plan was foiled, before I could even add my birthday to the month!

For the holidays this year, I caught that darn flu bug that is taking down many people faster than a golden retriever playing catch with a tennis ball. I was down and out for almost two full weeks. During that time, I looked around my living room while I sat in my cozy chair coughing away and started to get irritated by the holiday decorations still up long after Santa had put the sleigh in the barn for the season. Hopefully, he has been sitting on a beach somewhere and not coughing and blowing his nose like the rest of us. One of the decorations on the center of my mantle is a sign that reads “Let it snow.” The more I looked at it the more it started to be a literal sign meant for me. Now, I don’t live in an area that gets snow but the sign made me think…what if I just “let it snow?” What if I just accept that the next few days will be about sitting still? Maybe just let what happens be the course? Why do I always feel like I am not where I should be? What is it about this time of year particularly that makes us want to be at our very best? Does that mindset change the course of the year ahead? I think the answer is yes, but I don’t necessarily think it changes things for the best.

When we do start a resolution or a new beginning in January, sometimes we hold steady and kick some great goals up ahead. We eat better, we exercise more! We are more proactive at work. I also think we start realizing that we cannot take on our usual life and add these habits to our list without something else giving. I know that I start to feel bad about myself and I start having guilt around the fact that I didn’t stick to a new regimen or that something else that was important had to give.

That little “let it snow” sign is my new resolution. I want to feel like I am enough, just as I am. I want that for you as well. To the caregivers in this group, I REALLY want this for you. You may still be finishing up 2025 projects that need your attention. You may still have medical bills to sort, new doctor appointments to set up. You may start eating more veggies when the time allows and that is great. It doesn’t mean you are behind if you don’t have the wherewithal to start a new year, new you program. I hope you can “let it snow” and maybe spend an hour a week with a friend, even if it is on the phone. I hope that you can keep your favorite snack and a little book of affirmations in your nightstand to ease your stress when you are feeling lonely. I want you to see the to do list or the resolutions that you would like to conquer as free flowing. What if we just let ourselves breathe? What if we allow time to be open for possibility? If we find time on a Wednesday afternoon, maybe we take an hour and go to a little shop we have wanted to walk around. Or, have an impromptu visit with a neighbor?

It is hard to plan when there is someone in our lives with cancer. If you are the one living with neuroendocrine cancer, you are committing to your health daily. For this, I am impressed by you. I want you to feel inspired to hop up on a weekend and take a drive somewhere new. Or, write a thank you card to your caregiver. I don’t want too many extra things jotted down on a list or a calendar. If we open some time for a little beauty and simplicity, maybe we will realize something. We are all enough just as we are. We are valued by our loved ones and for those that we inspire through our actions. Caregivers and those living with NETs are resilient. You are growing daily while living your best life. Let’s create breathing room. I would love to see our collective resolution to be Self Acceptance! No added pressure to add or change something.

Letting it snow, letting things go, are just metaphors for “lets just be.” Can we be okay with that this year?

There is only ONE you. You bring your own good to this world. You can be free to leave space for a happier life by opening your soul to it. I think to do this, we need to practice accepting we are pretty darn great as we are. Full stop.

So, as I sit around my house coughing a lot (to the point that my dog is giving me stink eye all day) I want you to let it snow. I am!

Lets use this intention together: I am allowing space for wonderful things to present in my life. I am accepting that I am enough just as I am. I have permission to just be. I will seek out the moments that I can try new things or welcome what already is as often as possible, organically. I don’t have to be more or do more. I am free to just “let it snow.”

From the bottom of my heart, I hope you see yourself as I do. You are pretty darn great! This neuroendocrine life is a lot, and it is filled with the most amazing group of people. I for one am better for getting to know a lot of you. Take care!

FA LA LA… IT’S A LA LA LOT.

I don’t want Mrs. Claus to feel dissed, but I do a great job at making my little house look like a holiday wonderland. Well, as much as it can in Southern California when it averages a cool 75 degrees on Christmas.

I know most families have that one tradition keeper. The one that makes sure traditions are set and then followed and expanded as time goes on. Sometimes, we can make ourselves and those around us go a little bonkers as we see to every detail of the holiday season. What is a great quality can also become a bit of a hurdle.

When Jimmy was first living with his diagnosis, I really leaned into making the holidays spectacular. I look back and remember thinking, “What if this is our last Christmas all together?” I wanted to create the best moments for my kids and my extended family. I wanted Jimmy to feel extra loved and special… Just in case we didn’t get another holiday season together. It is hard not to have those thoughts. It does make us live more intentionally and let go of things that don’t matter. It also motivates us to push through exhaustion and spend extra time and money to see to it that the things that we hold value to are done well. If I am honest, I was a bit overwhelming!  Picture even poor Rudolph turning off his nose and hiding behind the barn from me. I wanted it done up around here! We can cook, clean, decorate, shop, and wrap gifts long into the night for our families. Guess what? There is nothing more valuable than feeling safe, happy and full of magical thoughts and being with those you love on a holiday!

When we are planning and managing the holiday season and living with or caring for someone with neuroendocrine cancer everything becomes a little more meaningful, but ALSO more difficult to do. HO HO HOly moly it can be a lot! I learned that after many years of kicking into gear and hosting the Christmas Eve Dinner at our house for the whole family, that the celebration had to be modified. I could not pull all of that off without Jimmy’s help. Due to his health, he needed to scale back his Santa workshop of decorating. He usually went all out decorating the front of the house. We had a 20-foot Christmas tree with a heart as the topper (for me). He made a snowman out of rebar and lined the walk with candy canes. The roof looked like a message for anyone living in space. (I can hear the astronauts now, “Houston, WE HAVE a problem…we need sunglasses!”) As our kids grew, we would enlist them to help. That was…well… It was eye-opening. AfterI dragged us all to the park or the beach for a photo for the perfect holiday card, it was home to help dad on the roof or help remember where the hole in the front lawn for the giant metal pole for the Christmas tree was (I never heard laughing during this exercise). We maybe looked a little weird out there crawling around and poking on the grass, lol. But! The 20 plus high rebar tree with hundreds of lights on it meant happiness to us, and if I am honest, to me. It was tradition. You know what else it was? A pain in the tuchus!

When my kids started helping, the first few years felt fun. They got to go on the roof for the first time. They got to mess around with electricity. All the usual no-no’s! Eventually the novelty wore off and it became a chore. Seeing how much time and effort went in behind the scenes, they started telling us what they didn’t mind not having for the holidays, but more importantly, they showed us what the magic of the holidays was for them.    

It was no longer safe for Jimmy to jump on ladders or carry heavy things. The kids knew that he loved that stuff. Not being able to do it was a bummer for him. The fun was doing it with their dad. The year that we scaled back and didn’t put up the big white tent in the yard for our big family dinner or the giant tree in the front yard, we were all a bit sad, but it also unleashed a kind of relief. We didn’t hustle and bustle. We had time to spend together. We learned that a dinner of any kind with our family was what held the value of the tradition. The cracker toys that held silly hats and a joke were a must. The sparkling cider and the hot cider with cinnamon sticks? Don’t skimp on that. The music, the laughter and complete break from thinking about Jimmy’s health were magic. These were the real holiday miracles that we not only wanted, but needed. We didn’t need the BIG. We needed the small details of love, of family, of peace. I felt that maybe I was letting everyone down by not holding up the entire holiday on my shoulders. I soon found out that I was a silly Christmas goose. Nobody minded the less than normal holiday extravaganza.   

Being a caregiver is a true gift to the family. Knowing our loved ones are cared for and maybe rocking a holiday sweater for an extra touch of cheer is all we need. The family loves you, not the meals that take three days to prepare. To see you having time to enjoy their company and hopefully give you a break to sit and chat is their joy. If you are the one with NET cancer, it may be just what the doctor ordered for you to receive that little box of your favorite chocolate or a handwritten card from your friend. Sometimes, it is okay to let those around you show up. You can just be. 

I am looking forward to a sweet and quiet holiday season this year. I am setting up the front room of the house as a little holiday dream. Instead of putting up 42 lit candy canes down the driveway, I will be snuggled in with my dog, Chewi, reading a book about some holiday fiasco! Instead of being the house that everyone drives by to see,  Chewi and I will be driving around town looking at lights while listening to the tunes of the season. Not to worry, I will go all out with a few traditions and make sure we have comfort, joy and a whole lot of hot apple cider on the stove. I will not be buying so many gifts but what I do give will be wrapped with lots of jolly. 

If you are spending time with your family and are figuring out how to get it all done this year, your health and that of those you love can be the first thing on your list, the rest will come naturally when you follow your traditions in a small but meaningful way. Life changes and as it does, we must adapt and find our joy. Remember to be present and to  be ready to say I love you every chance you get! The holidays give us an opportunity to do just that. I hope that even if this holiday season requires a trip to the hospital for treatment, or extra days inside, you find a way to hold onto the most important thing. That is each other. 

This time of year can feel polarizing to your “limits” due to neuroendocrine cancer. Please remember to grab ahold of the kindness and good wishes all around you. Starting from me! I wish you all a wonderful holiday season of celebrations and joy.