It's hard to describe the feelings that overwhelmed me during my bad days with cancer. I could call them consuming and crushing and sickening and frightening and crippling and still not completely cover all the bases. It's much easier to describe the feelings that overwhelmed me on my good days with cancer. I felt -- and still mostly feel this way -- happy and spunky and motivated and invigorated and fulfilled. And I felt loved -- because most of my bad days were turned around by the love of others. It was like clockwork. When I needed it most, a surprise awaited me in my mailbox or my inbox or on on the other side of my front door or on my front porch. These surprises strengthened me on my bad days -- and sometimes beyond the bad days. They still help me really -- because my memory of how they saved me from days of despair continues to fuel my good days. And here are seven of my special surprises.


Something Sweet. I love brownies and could probably polish off a whole pan by myself -- which is why I rarely have brownies in my house. So it was a special day when a box of Fairytale Brownies arrived on my doorstep from a friend in Phoenix. Made with all sorts of goodies -- chips and nuts and peanut butter and mint flavors -- these brownies sweetened my day.

Something Comfy. Delivered to my mailbox one day was a surprise package containing pretty, soft, cozy, yellow socks -- sent by a friend who wanted me to recover in comfort. I still wear my socks -- and I now buy them for others who need a bit of comfort in their days.

Something in Bloom. It was anything but a beautiful, blooming day as I sat for my fourth and last toxic chemotherapy treatment -- until a friend walked through the doors of the infusion center with a vase full of pink, vibrant tulips. My mood turned around. And my day that began with a strong sense of repulsion turned into a day that was brighter than I ever thought it could be.

Something Warm. My hand-made quilt was delivered to my front door by three friends and their small children during one of my toxic chemo days. It is pink and lavender and green with names and messages written all over it. It covers me at night and reminds me of the warmth that surrounds me -- the warmth that came from more than 20 friends who volunteered their time and talents so that I could feel better.

Something Stuffed. My cousin sent me a small pink stuffed breast cancer bear with a little breast cancer postage stamp replica embroidered on its chest. It is a well-traveled little bear because it began its journey in the hands of a women I have never met and was sent to my cousin who then sent it to me. It sits on my dresser where I can see it every day -- my little bear that traveled many miles to reach me just as I was traveling many miles, reaching for health.

Something Donated. My friend who sat with me during my very last Herceptin treatment on June 28 brought me a sweet card with a gift certificate for a pedicure and also the gift of a donation in my name to the charity of my choice. I chose St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital. I also chose to cry when presented this whole package of surprises that brought me so much joy and hope for a better tomorrow -- for me and all those who travel similar cancer roads.

Something Written. Cards and e-mails and notes have overwhelmed me, both in number and spirit. For a long time, it was every day that cheerful words came my way. And they truly got me through the day. Now they are not so abundant. But they do tend to surface when I least expect them and when I most need them. A friend -- the same friend who brought me tulips -- left this message for me on my breast cancer blog:

Jacki's Beauty

High above a mountain's green forest rises the peak.
Where scraggly rock replaces lush meadows
and thinning air makes the knees grow weak.
This is where the bald eagle soars,
lifted by a thermal above a barren summit.
As I imagine the majesty of this bird's eye view,
this is the beauty I feel when I think of you.

Thank you for sharing your battle with breast cancer with me.

Thank you for taking my soul to new heights.

More than anything, my soul -- often circling the depths of cancer-induced anxiety -- was the one taken to new heights. All because of the surprises sent my way.