Scars in the Sunlight

With Shelly Vaughn


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Chimes

One of the best things about having a Spring birthday is that I always feel inspired to run at some point in the day. This year, it was in the morning before the rain came. It was dreary and chilly, but I knew I wouldn’t be out long.

The destination for this run was to my mom’s memorial tree. It’s 2 miles from our house- the perfect
distance to get to anytime.

I’ve been to her tree dozens of times now. I think about her, talk to her, and feel close to her when I’m there. It’s usually very calming and peaceful.

Not sure why today was different, but as soon as I got there I just started crying. Then sobbing. I could barely even form a thought in my mind as I was trying to talk myself out of the emotions… I was just so sad. I kneeled down and put my head on the plaque with her name and let it out. It was embarrassing and gross, but apparently necessary.

Last year, my cousin left a wind chime on the tree and it’s beautiful. But it’s also kind of heavy, which means it would take a lot of wind to move the chime and make noise. In all the times I’ve been there in wind and rain and sun and breezes, I’ve never heard it chime.

You know where this is going…

As my head was down and I was a mess, I felt a very light breeze and heard the wind chime! Probably 10-12 little, high-pitched “ding-ding-dings”… then it stopped. I stopped to listen. Stopped crying. The breeze continued but the chimes didn’t move again.

That, friends, was my mom. A woman who always comforted me when she was on earth, now found a way to comfort me from heaven.

I wiped my tears, stood back up with a sense of genuine “okayness”, and finished my run for the morning.

I love mom so much that the pain of missing her is hard to allow myself to feel. But if I had not allowed myself to feel that painful moment, I would have missed feeling her presence, too.

Thank you for such a wonderful birthday gift, mom!

“don’t look away from the arms of a bad dream.

…don’t look away from the arms of a moment.

Don’t look away from the arms of love.”

– Green Day “The Forgotten”


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It’s Okay to Look Back

I loved Ohio winter this weekend! The rain from Friday night that mixed with the dropping temperature caused everything to ice over. When the sun shone through the trees and on the snow Saturday morning, everything sparkled and looked like glass. It was magical. Rob and I went out to enjoy the unique scenery, he took this photo, and it got me thinking…

We have such a linear view of our experiences in the world. We often talk about “moving forward” after a trauma or life change; sometimes using our distance from the trauma as the metric for how well we are getting over it. I see why we do this- we need to create something somewhat measurable so that we feel like we can show progress.

One of the sayings I like and remember in hard times is “Don’t look back- you’re not going that way.” But this weekend I had a moment to rethink that. There may be occasions that it’s ok (even beautiful) to look back. That is when you see things and appreciate them from a different perspective.

Back to this picture…

Rob took it near the end of our walk on Saturday morning.

Were my fingers numb? yes.

Was my nose frozen? yes.

Was I uncomfortable and looking forward to getting back in the car? you bet.

Then you know what Rob did- he looked back behind us. While I was so focused forward, he took a moment to glance back at the path we were on. When he turned around, he grabbed his camera to take this picture and I could see why. It was gorgeous! If he hadn’t turned around, we still would have finished the walk, we still would have enjoyed the rest of our morning together, and we still would have other beautiful pictures. But because he looked back, we got to experience a moment of extra beauty, too!

At the beginning of my experience with breast cancer, I remember Rob took a picture of a foggy path and to me, it represented the unknown ahead of us. This weekend, I was reminded of the value of also looking back after an experience. Not to relive it, but to reflect on the beauty that was within it.


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Five Years and everything is gonna be alright

Today is an important one to point out- it’s been 5 years since I was diagnosed with breast cancer. In the oncology world, they consider this “cured”!!! (The feelings from today are a lot to process and explain, so I’ll focus on sharing the activities of the day instead.) I took the day off work and spent the morning with a good cup of coffee from a friend and some quiet time doing some writing. Then, I excitedly redeemed the massage gift card that Rob gave me for Christmas. It ended up being an unexpectedly funny experience that I’ll remember for a long time. My plan is to tell my grandchildren about when I’m 75 years old and laughing about funny things that happened along my recovery. I also had a nice lunch with Rob and then an afternoon full of our “ordinary”- taking the girls to and from cheer and dance, stopping at the store, squeezing in dinner. Turns out that this ordinary is pretty sweet when you feel like you have a renewed perspective on life. 💕To mark today’s occasion, I want to share a Green Day song from their Hella Mega tour last summer- “Pollyanna”. Rob and I saw them in August in Pittsburgh and it is so far my most favorite concert ever! (Sorry, Dawson High)“ I think it’s time to pull up the shades. It’s wonderful to be alive……And everything is gonna be alright.”


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Dr. Rehmus

There aren’t enough “thank yous” in the universe for this woman. She’s my oncologist- Dr. Rehmus- the person who saved my life. This post is to acknowledge and celebrate her!

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the day in 2017 when I met her. I had just learned of my diagnosis around lunch time and had an afternoon appointment with my surgeon (someday I’ll see if he’ll let me take a selfie with him, too!) It was the end of day on a Friday and I’m sure she would have been on her way out the door if not for me. Thankfully she said she would take my appointment at the last minute.

As Rob, Trisha and I walked into the room with the round conversation table, I couldn’t stop thinking about how nauseous I was and unsure if eating something would make it better or worse. Dr. Rehmus walked in with her medical student and introduced herself. I vividly remember that the first thing she did was sit next to me and turn her chair so that we were knee-to-knee. I don’t know the exact words she said but the sentiments were acknowledging that this was a hard afternoon and an immediate concern for taking care of myself- starting with getting me crackers and ending with a prescription for Ativan and instructions to pick up a bottle of wine on the way home (don’t judge if you haven’t been in that position before. 😆)

She saw me that day with all of the fear in my eyes that I couldn’t hide. She knew how much to explain and when to stop because it was mental overload. She had been here thousands of times with other patients, yet still managed to make me feel like I was her only (and most important) one. She did this throughout my entire care with the perfect combination of intelligence, reason, compassion, encouragement, and humor that is necessary for this kind of work.

I have always had confidence in her as she provided reassurance in her responses to my gazillion questions. She is the epitome of amazing medical care. Although I obviously wish I didn’t need an oncologist, I’m thankful she’s the one!

Now, after years and years of treating thousands and thousands of patients, she gets to retire! I’m so excited for her. Yes, she diagnosed me with “oncologist withdrawal syndrome” (her made-up term for what I’m going through), but I don’t know how to feel knowing that I might never see her again!!

So I will celebrate her here and introduce her to all of you and pretend like she’s a part of this group. Because I wouldn’t be here to keep writing and sharing thoughts if not for her. Not sure how a woman like that stays so humble, but I want to be like that when I grow up. 😉


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You just never know where your path will lead. Rob’s path is taking him through the 5 boroughs of New York for the NYC marathon!! He’ll be running in November and achieving this goal he set out to do a few years ago. He was planning to do this in 2020 but obviously that was cancelled, so he is now on his way to do this in a few months and I’m so proud of him!!

You all know cancer has affected our lives so much- as well as so many of you. Rob has chosen to race by fundraising for a cancer research center in NYC. If you are able to donate to the cause, click on his link. If you are donating in honor/memory of someone, let him know and he will add it to his shirt on race day. And if you are inclined, please pray for this amazing research company because, my goodness, what a difference it would be if a cure can be discovered. Thanks in advance for everyone’s support for him. He’s a rockstar!

This is how we fight this disease together!

https://charity.gofundme.com/o/en/campaign/team-waxman-2020-tcs-new-york-city-marathon/robertvaughn11


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Pray For Lea

Lea is a sister in Christ. A mother, wife, and fellow breast cancer survivor. Though I knew her briefly many years ago, we reconnected in 2017 when she was diagnosed just after me. We’ve shared doctors and specialists, our radiation schedule was almost identical- so much that I would see her name on the list of patients in the radiology suite right after me. Most recently, we’ve seen each other with our families at Stewart’s Caring Place where we’ve gone for their family Halloween and Christmas parties.

Yesterday I heard that she is not doing well. Her cancer has metastasized and is in her bones. Her prognosis is about 5 months. 5 months, friends. I cannot imagine hearing that kind of news. My heart is broken.

Please pray for Lea. I heard that her spirits are up right now, but she is in pain and having trouble walking.

And, only after you’ve prayed for her and her family, I’m asking if you could pray for my heart to have peace with this. First Linsy Biege, then Jennifer Johnston, then Laura Ritter Allio… they are all young women who I’ve met since 2017 who are no longer here. I don’t want this to happen to another one. I can’t help but feel scared. This is the reality of living in the world of that terrible disease. I hate it.


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Answer to Prayer

Sometimes things can really jump out as being an answer to prayer. This past week, I had one of those moments and I really wanted to share with everyone.

Every single parent reading this knows that you always worry more about your kids than yourself. With my surgery scheduled for Tuesday, I was putting a lot of thought into what my girls would be doing that day. Last weekend, I realized that Olivia had been asking several times about details for tuesday and what time things would be happening. I paused for a moment and said, “Are you ok with everything, Olivia?” and she broke down. Not in an 11-yr old dramatic way. But in a soft, sweet, innocent way as she just said, “I’m scared.”

I hugged her and said “tell me what scares you about this?” and her response was “because of what happened with Mariah’s mom.” Remember that Mariah is her friend whose mom went in for mastectomy surgery and passed away 3 weeks later from an infection. So no matter what I could say to her, there’s no way to take that thought out of her little mind. I reassured her as much as I could and prayed with her.

Then, one night later, I had to break the news to her that her classmate passed away. Keith had been fighting a form of childhood cancer for several years and we knew that it would be happening soon. But man, seeing those giant tears roll down my baby’s face was heartbreaking. A while later, she said “I feel like I’m still sad about Mariah’s mom and now I’m sad about Keith on top of it. I wish the sadness wasn’t so close together.”

So here I am, worried about her for days, wondering if I should send her to school onTuesday to distract her (she didn’t want this at first because Mariah was in school when her mom died and got called to the office to leave.) Or maybe I should let her come to the hospital, though that’s a long stressful day even for adults to wait. I even thought maybe I’d have her grandma take her out for a fun day instead of school… but then Liana might feel left out.

So on Wednesday I came home from work and told Olivia that we should sit and talk about plans for Tuesday. Her response, given through bright eyes and a big smile, was “Oh yeah, I have to go to school that day! I’m really excited to go!!” She went on to explain that there was a famous author coming to her class and their class is going to read her upcoming book and help edit it! That the author wants feedback from children who are the age of the target audience. And in some way (at least what Olivia said), their class will be credited when the book is published. Side note- she keeps mentioning that the author’s husband is British and will be there too, and she’s so excited to hear his accent.

If you know me well, you know what my next step was- contact that author and let her know what this means to us. So I found her email online and sent a message to her and to Olivia’s teachers. It explained my upcoming surgery and let them know this wasn’t just another school activity, this was an answer to prayer.

The author’s name is Shelley Pearsall. She wrote back to me- that same day. She thanked me for the email and said that it meant a lot to her. You see- she’s a breast cancer survivor! She had a bilateral mastectomy last year! This is her first time back to work with students since her time off for treatment. So she understands this in a much deeper way than most. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. Crazy, isn’t it?!

So, lift your jaw and catch your breath. Then go buy a book written by Shelley Pearsall, knowing she is a special woman and will be helping my daughter on a day full of anxiety. I’m so thankful i know my daughter will be taken care of that day in the most perfect way.


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Miles To Go…

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I could probably write a book just about my experience with the Akron Marathon from a couple of weeks ago. I could, but I won’t. I’ll instead try to summarize and hit the highlights in a post here.

Shortest possible summary: It was physically really hard, but emotionally amazing.

Best attempt at a real summary:
I’ve participated in 9 of these races- 7 relay teams and 2 half marathons. This was my worst (slowest) and my best (because I did it). It could’ve easily been just another race, if there weren’t sweet moments all through that day that made me smile:

1. It’s hard to sleep the night before a race… it always is. But guess what time I woke up and looked at the clock- 3:54 am. Guess what my grandma’s house number is- 354. Thanks, Grandma. 🙂

2. My tattoo on my foot says “Miles to go…” So our team name was “Miles together.” I ran the race of my life with the girls who have been my friends since middle school. Together, we can get through anything- like cancer and marathons.

Trisha ran the 4th leg of the race and I ran the 5th leg. Which means she handed off the slap bracelet to me. It’s not quite as seamless as a relay handoff in the Olympics. But when your twin sister is the one right before you, it requires a quick, tight hug in the middle of the road. An embrace I won’t forget- with my mom, our daughters, and my cousin, Terry, watching and holding the most encouraging signs ever.

My lucky number is 11. Guess what our team’s pace was- 11:11!

3. The shirt I wore during the race said “survivor” on the back. At one point in the race (shortly after “cardiac hill” for those who know the race route), an older man ran up beside me and smiled. He pointed to his own shirt that said “Living With Breast Cancer”. He simply said “what kind did you have?”… and that started a simple but inspiring conversation during the hardest part of my hardest race. He said that his wife has stage 4 cancer and he runs in support of her. As a reminder to LIVE with whatever we’re given. After a few minutes, my breath was getting heavier while his was not. I told him I needed to walk for a few minutes and he graciously thanked me for inspiring him to finish his marathon. This guy, nearing the end of a 26.2 mile race, was inspired by this girl walking partway through her 5 mile race. If I would ever see him again, I would tell him how much HE inspired ME. I am so grateful that he literally crossed my path during the race.

4. Those of you who knew my friend, Allie, know how much she took care of herself and her body. She ran a lot and completed the Akron Marathon when she was healthy. When she was fighting her own battle with cancer, I bought a headband that says “Livestrong Armstrong”- the headband I have had with me for every race since then. Even if I’m not the athlete she was, I still think of her all the time when I’m running.

There are thousands of people who participate in the marathon. And there are shuttles that take people to different relay legs. As I walked onto the shuttle to take me to the start of my leg, I immediately heard someone call my name. Sitting right across from me was Brittany Armstrong. Brit is my friend, a sister in Christ, and the mother to Allie’s daughters. Brit eventually married Allie’s husband, Adam, and somehow completely gracefully stepped into huge shoes. I cannot imagine the challenges that their family has experienced, but I know that the situation was prayed for by so many people- especially Allie. Seeing Brit that day inevitably made me think of Allie… a lot. I felt her presence in a way that’s hard to explain without sounding totally strange. I have a unique understanding of some of the thoughts that my friend surely had about her husband and daughters before she passed away. Which makes me also have a new appreciation for the beautiful, healthy runner who is raising those precious children and loving her husband the way that would make Allie smile.

And guess who I kept seeing during my actual run even after we said goodbye at the shuttle- Brit! We ran the same leg of the race. I would pass her, she would pass me… and that happened quite a few times over the miles we ran. I saw my friend, Brit, and I thought of my friend, Allie. And both things made me thankful.

5. The last best memory of the day- racing down the finish line. As I probably could’ve predicted if I thought much about it- my sister and teammates screamed loudly along the sidelines with high-pitch squeals of excitement and encouragement. But just before I got to them- there was Rob. Cheering for me during one of the most symbolic moments of my life. His strong voice rising above the hundreds of people along that finish line. I saw the smile on his face and wasn’t sure whose was bigger- his or mine.

You see, the race ends in the Akron baseball stadium with a champion finish line. All of the spectators fill the stadium seats. But runners are allowed to stay on the field and cheer on the finishers from the field. The week before the race, Rob decided to join a relay team. I didn’t realize until he mentioned that he did it so that he could be on the field to watch me finish. So sweet, right?! And I’ll be forever thankful that he chose to do that because his high-5 along that finish line was one of my favorite ever!!

Lots of details to cherish. Lots of joy to be felt. Lots of life to be lived.

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Beautiful Music and Amazing Friends

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Another memorable evening- so grateful for life and friendships. These women mean the world to me. But when we’re all so busy with families and work, evenings out are few and far between. Tonight we made it happen and went to the Lauren Daigle concert. Beautiful music and amazing friends made the night oh-so-sweet. Thank you, God, for these treasured friends in my life… and for healing me so that I can still enjoy times like these.

“Truth is, You know what tomorrow brings.
There’s not a day ahead You have not seen.
So, in all things be my life and breath.
I want what You want Lord and nothing less.”