Life.

    Sometimes life sneaks up on you without you even noticing.

And it brings with it whatever it pleases.

The good, the bad and the scary.

It has its own plans, and it won't bother consulting your schedule.

It doesn't give a damn what you think about it.

     I was living life according to my own schedule. I had everything planned out,

and I was checking things off my to-do list.

 I was at my annual GYN appointment when all of a sudden everything stopped.

The doctor's hand stopped. My world stopped.

 Life stepped in and took over without ever giving me a chance for rebuttal.

     I never thought my boobs were that great,
but suddenly this doctor couldn't get his hands off of them.

 I couldn't remember the last time I had gotten so much action in such little time,

 but everything was happening so quickly.

Before I knew it I was making appointments with experts at the Medical University for the following week.

     I was in shock.

 I walked out of the doctor's office.

I took a seat behind the wheel of my car, and the first of many tears began to fall.

    

    The doctor had found a lump, but they were convinced it was just sign of a period on the horizon, and I was told to come back in two weeks. Everyone was certain I was far too young for this to be anything serious. Who has ever heard of a 21-year-old with breast cancer anyways? I went back and the enemy was still there -- hanging out right above the left side of my rib cage. They passed me along to the next set of doctors and the next set of hands.

    In a closet-sized dressing room, I am wearing a pink ribbon-robe,

and I am waiting for another round of cold-wrinkly hands to give my boobs a feel.

 A nice lady finally rescues me from my thoughts, and she escorts me to my ultrasound.

An hour passes by, and a weight is lifted from my shoulders and my chest.

     After four doctor appointments and hours of poking,

 it was determined that I am a victim of “lumpy boobs.”

 The ultrasounds showed no need for concern.

I'll take lumpy boobs over cancer any day.

Tears fell again, but this they were tears of joy and tears of victory.

My boobs told life who was boss, and now we are on a mission to not let her get in our way again.

xo,

Shans

How Jenni Got Her Wings

I was 16. She was 14. She was the youngest of four girl cousins all born within two years of each other. For as long as I can remember it was the four of us against the world, or at least against the Davis family. We were a tight-knit group, and I didn't think anything could tear us apart. The four of us always had a special bond, but I could have never guessed how Jenni would change my life.

Her dad called his six siblings for a family meeting at his house. It was an emergency, and we were to be there as soon as possible. I was shopping online for prom dresses, and I remember being annoyed as my mother dragged me away from my laptop. When we arrived  my mother's siblings were  standing in the yard with pale faces, and I immediately knew  bad news was on the way. I can't even remember what happened in the next few hours that we spent together. All I remember is that Jenni had cancer.

Oseosarcoma, or bone cancer, had attacked her knee. After and second, third and fourth opinion all we could do was hope that they had caught it in time to save her. The next few years were full of ups and and downs. The Medical University of South Carolina became the young girl's second home, and our entire family was filled with uncertainty. I still think the three of us were effected more than anyone. She was our baby cousin. We had treated her like our fragile child since we could walk, and now she was fighting a life-threatening disease. There was nothing we could do to help her or to ease her pain. All we could was be there.

The first two weeks of January 2010 were hell. Jenni had been through every treatment possible  on the East Coast, and the doctors finally said there was nothing left that they could do. She made it to her 18th birthday and  through her senior year of high school. She fought harder than anyone could have ever fought, but the fight would be over soon.

She moved from the hospital bed to her bed at home, and hopsice wasn't far behind. For three weeks their home was filled with friends, family and food. All were waiting around for something to happen and praying for that something to be a miracle. Jenni Shae Davis passed away on January 18, 2010. She was 18-years-old, and the most amazing person I have ever met. In the four years that she battled cancer I never once saw her cry, and she was always making me laugh, even the last time we spoke.

I will never forget the perfect baby cousin I was blessed to have for 18 short years, and although we may not have gotten the miracle we were all hoping for, I say we are all pretty lucky to have ever known her at all.