Upcycled Napkins
I will never forget my first day of chemotherapy. As my sister and I walked down the hallway, I crumbled at the sight of the infusion center. Up until that point I felt like I would be able to handle whatever was thrown my way, a defiant independence that I could do anything. When I walked into the infusion center I was hyper aware of everything around me, the smell, the bright lights, the terrible color and patterns on the vinyl chairs, the overly saturated nature photography… each object more and more overstimulating.
I will never forget my first day of chemotherapy. As my sister and I walked down the hallway, I crumbled at the sight of the infusion center. Up until that point I felt like I would be able to handle whatever was thrown my way, a defiant independence that I could do anything. When I walked into the infusion center I was hyper aware of everything around me, the smell, the bright lights, the terrible color and patterns on the vinyl chairs, the overly saturated nature photography… each object more and more overstimulating.
When the tech took my blood pressure, it was the highest it has ever been. They were not very kind and told me to “just relax”, which of course did not help. It took me a while to find my breath and start to relax as my sister calmly started breathing next to me. Shortly after, I would meet Maddie, my amazing nurse, who would kindly walk me through each step of the process, yet at each step she would remove an object from a plastic covering or toss something into the trash.
It horrified me at how much single-use plastic was being thrown away in the first twenty minutes of my six-hour long appointment. The whole appointment I was constantly in shock at how much trash I was producing. It caused me to spiral a little bit with darker questions — where does this waste go? how much waste is produced each day? is my life worth this waste production? All of which my sister ever so coolly told me to get over.
I know that some plastic waste is inevitable, especially when it comes to sterile environments. However, I have found a renewed sense of limiting my waste since that day and am finding new ways to recycle or upcycle objects that no longer are serving me.
A dear friend leant me her sewing machine over the summer when I had a project that called for some finishing touches. I had very minimal training up until that point, so she gave me a tutorial and some scrap fabric to practice on. She told me to make napkins, she said it’d be the easiest. After completing a set of four napkins to give back to her as a thank you, I realized how wonderful it felt to make something beautiful from scraps that could have easily been destined for the landfill.
I had my eleventh infusion last week, and as I sat there knitting and watching my other wonderful nurse, Jordan, move through the movements of prepping the supplies to access my port, I couldn’t help but think there has to be a better way for us to package medical supplies or for the hospitals to at least have a better way to sort plastic for recycling. We already know that microplastics are everywhere, so how can we minimize our use so that we can protect future generations from ingesting microplastics and keep them from sitting in terribly patterned vinyl chairs.
I really try to limit my waste. I compost, I recycle, I donate unused items, and most recently I signed up for Ridwell to help with my plastic waste. Are there other ways that you recycle or upcycle?
Cyanotype Prints
Andrew Garfield was recently interviewed on Modern Love, if you have not listened, I really encourage you to do so. They discuss the concept of time, The Ignatian Examen, and onism.
To simplify the Examen, it is a beautiful daily practice, where you reflect on your day and find moments where you were closest to God, whether that is to a spirit, being in nature, or simply being present. Then acknowledge those moments in your day where you could have been more aware, more present, more understanding and reflect on how you can be better the next day.
Andrew Garfield was recently interviewed on Modern Love, if you have not listened, I really encourage you to do so. They discuss the concept of time, The Ignatian Examen, and onism.
To simplify the Examen, it is a beautiful daily practice, where you reflect on your day and find moments where you were closest to God, whether that is to a spirit, being in nature, or simply being present. Then acknowledge those moments in your day where you could have been more aware, more present, more understanding and reflect on how you can be better the next day.
Have you ever had a day where you have felt completely present?
Three friends and I met at Bear Creek State Park for a cyanotype printmaking day. We prepped our paper and then headed out on a nature walk to find treasures for our prints. The walk felt healing. I was completely present in that moment — soaking in every detail of the walk, listening to the crunch of the rocks underneath our shoes, observing every detail on a leaf, carefully examining the structure of a seed pod. I was selecting each branch, leaf, and flower with a careful awareness and unknowingly creating a rich bouquet of color and textures.
When we returned to our picnic table — we would carefully select pieces from our bouquets for our compositions. We would learn we would not be able to use every branch, leaf, and flower we had selected. We would have to choose. We would watch our pieces transform under the sun’s magic and come to life through the power of water. This process felt so simple, so pure.
If I could have bottled up that day, I would have. I would have done anything to keep the sun’s warmth on my cheeks, to simplify each day to the beauty of that one, and for my heart to be that present and full. However, as Andrew Garfield wisely said:
“The problem is you can’t hold on to anything. It’s, it’s all letting go …. This life is all a letting go.”
After getting home that evening, full of energy, full of life. I received terrible news about a very close family member. It shook me and given that I was in the midst of radiation treatments, I would not be able to physically go say goodbye. It was a heartbreaking position for me to find myself in and I was quickly pulled out of that present moment and reminded of my frustration on being stuck in my body.
I was not able to say goodbye in person, and yet I had to force myself to let go of that desire to physically be there, at that moment in time. I was there spiritually. I was there emotionally. And, in essence, I would be there presently.
If you want to make your own cyanotype prints, you can pick up Jaquard Cyanotype Sensitizer Sets at your local art store or order them online.
Origami Cranes
A few months ago, I found myself in Phoenix at the Mayo Clinic, for an unrelated reason to my own personal health. The chaplain there, while making an origami crane for me, shared a beautiful metaphor for the paper’s transformation. His story has continued to stay with me and I hope it brings you as much peace as it has brought me.
A few months ago, I found myself in Phoenix at the Mayo Clinic, for an unrelated reason to my own personal health. The chaplain there, while making an origami crane for me, shared a beautiful metaphor for the paper’s transformation. His story has continued to stay with me and I hope it brings you as much peace as it has brought me.
He said we all start as a blank, flat sheet of paper, pristine and unaware of what is to come. While the paper is being folded, from the paper’s perspective it has no idea what is happening. The paper just knows that it is no longer as flat as it once was.
While the paper is going through this process, the paper doesn’t see it, and it is uneasy. But, the master is carefully making every line.
Every line has a purpose. No line is done by mistake.
Even though in the middle of the process everything looks completely different, the form begins to change. Just as we believe our lives should be a certain way, we are not in control, and unknowingly, we are turning into something beautiful. When everything is done, the paper is no longer a flat shape, but a little dimensional bird, ready to take flight.
When we have hope, we have so much freedom.
The chaplain makes an origami crane a day, to give to patients and their families with the intention that even in challenging moments, we can always have hope, and therefore we can always have our freedom.
A couple weeks after, to honor this beautiful practice, my parents and I made our own origami cranes, and that morning allowed ourselves to be healed through imagination and brighter skies ahead. I hope today, especially today, we all can find a little more hope.
I will be forever grateful for my green crane and the message that it holds.
Origami paper can usually be found at your local art store. If you are in Denver, I recommend Meininger’s. This great YouTube tutorial shows you an easy step-by-step process to make your own origami crane.
Knit Baby Blanket
PART TWO
As I embarked on my last trip with the bitter news that the cancer had spread to my lymph nodes, I felt numb. I felt like I was living that scene in a movie where I was static in front of the frame, frozen, and the world around me was rushing ahead, moving forward, and on. It was so painful to know the promise I had been holding on to, looking forward to, would be delayed, again.
PART TWO
As I embarked on my last trip with the bitter news that the cancer had spread to my lymph nodes, I felt numb. I felt like I was living that scene in a movie where I was static in front of the frame, frozen, and the world around me was rushing ahead, moving forward, and on. It was so painful to know the promise I had been holding on to, looking forward to, would be delayed, again.
I went from doctor appointments to doctor appointments in a familiar fog. I had been here before. I spoke with surgeons, oncologists, and radiation oncologists ad nauseam. When I asked about how this would effect having a baby, my oncologists would ask if I had taken steps to preserve my eggs. They would show excitement in their eyes and tell me they were thrilled with my “numbers”, but the words from my fertility specialist haunted me — you don’t have enough.
There was a cold sweat that came over me, I became stressed at the thought, did I have enough?
In a very fucked up way, I felt grateful that my first diagnosis was already in the midst of the fertility process. I cannot imagine receiving this diagnosis and then having to think about preserving your fertility. My heart goes out to you if it has. Just the phone calls to the nurses and the financial department, made my blood pressure go up and reminded me — I had had enough of this process and I had enough.
I searched for answers. I searched for some resolve. I searched for healing. When I realized I would have to do chemotherapy treatments, I decided I was going to knit through my grief and knit a blanket for my future child. I reached out to a friend of mine who has knit beautiful baby blankets for all of our friends’ kids and she sent me some ideas.
I selected an easy baby blanket not knowing how much brain power I would have in the infusion chair. I realized quickly that it was too hard to focus with the Benadryl and Zofran coursing through my body. However, on the days that I was feeling better I would curl up with my pup, put on a trashy TV show, and knit. I savored these moments and days — there was a sense of peace, a sense of hope, and a sense of resolve.
I cast off the last stitches as I learned that I had no residual cancer cells, my body had taken to the chemotherapy treatment. I felt a sense of calm wash over me knowing that this piece of my treatment was done, the blanket was ready, and the future felt a little bit brighter. I will remain cautiously optimistic that a year from now I will be able to get pregnant and in two years from now, I will remain ever hopeful that I get to wrap my beautiful baby up in this blanket.
For now, it will be folded neatly and packed away safely, patiently waiting for the right time.
Want to knit your own baby blanket? Purl Soho has a ton of great patterns. If you are new to knitting they have a great collection of how-to video tutorials, as well.
If you have been diagnosed with cancer and are planning to go through CCRM for any fertility services, they offer 25% off Fertility Treatments with their Oncofertility discount. Be sure to ask about it because they do not provide this information readily.
Knit Baby Blanket
PART ONE
I have always wanted to be a mother. I can remember the first time it sunk in—I was in middle school and there was a parent/teacher function where, we, the older kids, were tasked with watching the younger ones while they met. A tiny baby girl was placed in my arms and in that moment, holding this precious sleeping child, I looked forward to the day when I would hold my own baby.
PART ONE
I have always wanted to be a mother. I can remember the first time it sunk in—I was in middle school and there was a parent/teacher function where, we, the older kids, were tasked with watching the younger ones while they met. A tiny baby girl was placed in my arms and in that moment, holding this precious sleeping child, I looked forward to the day when I would hold my own baby.
My life has taken several twists and turns since that moment and has rarely gone according to the vision I saw when I was 12 years old. There have been beautiful things that I never imagined would happen and dreams that I have let go, but my desire to have my own child has never waivered.
In the summer of 2022, I decided that I was going to go through the process of preserving my eggs. As I began to go through the IVF process, my primary care physician recommended that I get a mammogram, earlier than forty, because of my family history with breast cancer. The earliest I could get in for a mammogram was at the end of September, I scheduled the appointment and thought very little of it.
That year was my busiest year since starting my own business — the summer was full of concerts, project openings, work travel, board meetings, and I would get COVID for the first time which would impact my first egg retrieval. Despite being four weeks past the initial symptoms, and without any lingering, and after a week of giving myself fertility shots, the retrieval was cancelled because I was still testing positive. So much has happened since that time, but it is amazing to remember the protocols we all had to follow then and have seemingly so quickly gone away.
The setback really took its toll on me emotionally. I was pumped with hormone drugs, I was emotionally distraught on having to go through this alone, and I was taking on a huge financial responsibility especially as a single, self-employed business owner with limited health insurance options. And yet, I powered on. My retrieval was rescheduled to September and I would get enough “numbers” for almost one child and I would be told if I wanted a full one or even two, I would need to do another retrieval.
Three weeks later, I would have the mammogram that changed my life and my follow-up appointment with the fertility specialist.
I would move from doctor appointment to doctor appointment in a fog. How was this happening to me? Why was this happening to me? I had big plans, I had a vision, I was in the midst of planning my future… instead I was now struggling with what treatment I was going to pick and asking my surgeon to write me a letter so I could get my second retrieval done before I started any treatments. It was chaotic. It was stressful. My second retrieval gave me good “numbers” again, and yet, despite what I was told at the beginning of the IVF process it still wasn’t enough for the fertility specialist, but it would have to be enough.
If it wasn’t for the foresight of my primary care physician, I would be in a very different place right now. She saved my life. I had no indication that anything was wrong. I did not feel a lump. I did not feel sick. I will forever be grateful for her.
My oncologist told me after my mastectomy, which promised a clear pathology, I would need to wait a full year before I could get pregnant. In the year that followed, I started to dream about what all this meant. I let go of my 12-year-old vision to have a nuclear family, it did not seem to be in the cards and I made plans to become a single mother by choice. I would embark on three months of travel and respite, my Eat, Pray, Love moment, and when I returned I would start the process of becoming a mother.
That timing would not be in the cards for me either…
In the months after starting chemotherapy, I learned about a few opportunities for grants, financial aid, and discounts for the fertility process with a cancer diagnosis.
Polite Tumor
Chick Mission
Baby Quest
CCRM
Alto
Walgreens
If you know of any other opportunities, please share. There is power in knowledge.
DIY Suncatcher
As someone who has been pretty independent most of her life, learning to ask for help or seeking help has not been easy for me. I found that despite the many cancer resources and organizations out there, it is hard to know where to begin, what to search for, and what you might even need.
As someone who has been pretty independent most of her life, learning to ask for help or seeking help has not been easy for me. I found that despite the many cancer resources and organizations out there, it is hard to know where to begin, what to search for, and what you might even need.
One day, after looking at a holistic website for cancer nutrition and seeing they offered reiki on Zoom, my interest was piqued. I googled in-person reiki in Colorado and stumbled upon the Colorado Cancer Coalition website. What a trove of great resources! There I found LifeSpark which offers free reiki and healing touch for eight weeks to anyone affected by cancer, caregivers included.
I reached out to them immediately and while I was waiting to hear back, in a moment of kismet, a volunteer from LifeSpark approached me during my fourth chemotherapy treatment. I was alone for that treatment and already feeling uneasy. We spoke for a while about each of our own cancer journeys and how the reiki treatments helped her through hers. She then asked if I would be open for a treatment, so she laid me back, put on a vibrational healing soundtrack, and went to work — whatever she did put me to sleep because the next thing I knew the fluid alarm was blaring and I only had one thirty minute bag left.
Shortly thereafter, I was matched with my wonderful therapist for the next eight weeks. No matter what you believe, I think there is a great benefit to having an outside, unbiased, supporter start rooting for you.
These sessions gave me something to look forward to each week, it gave me a safe place to completely let go, it gave me an hour to completely quiet my racing mind, and allow myself to be completely nurtured.
The more I thought about how I felt when I left these sessions, I realized that my energy healer, much like a sun-catcher, would capture all the warmth and light and protect me against any negative energies that no longer served me. I would leave each session feeling an overwhelming sense of bliss and gratitude. When I can finally put this journey in my rear view mirror, I look forward to finding my way to give back and becoming someone else’s light.
Total Eclipse Embroidery Poster
Have you ever had a life altering moment that reminds you how small our world is? Have you ever seen a total eclipse? If you haven’t, I highly recommend that you put it on your bucket list right now. My first experience was in 2017 when the path of totality went through Glendo, Wyoming. It is still the most magical thing I have ever witnessed — and as we headed on our 11 hour, normally 2 hour, journey back to Denver — we all excitedly discussed where we would go to watch the next total eclipse in April 2024 and termed ourselves “umbraphiles”.
Have you ever had a life altering moment that reminds you how small our world is? Have you ever seen a total eclipse?
If you haven’t, I highly recommend that you put it on your bucket list right now. My first experience was in 2017 when the path of totality went through Glendo, Wyoming. It is still the most magical thing I have ever witnessed — and as we headed on our 11 hour, normally 2 hour, journey back to Denver — we all excitedly discussed where we would go to watch the next total eclipse in April 2024 and termed ourselves “umbraphiles”.
Little would I know, my next viewing of the total eclipse would come into jeopardy when I was diagnosed with my recurrence. In early March, when I began speaking with oncologists about treatment options I asked if I had travel plans on April 8th, what would that mean? I kept asking, as if, waiting for the oncologists to tell me I wouldn’t be able to travel or see the eclipse again, or at least not this one. However, they never told me no.
As I worked through our wonderful healthcare system — I was burdened with trying to advocate for myself through phone call after phone call trying to get the right care. I am a big believer that everything happens for a reason. After I finally made a decision on my oncologist — both her and my nurse would encourage me to take my trip to see the eclipse — they wanted me to have one more moment of joy before I would start this next chapter.
It was worth every second of that four and a half minutes to see the moon totally eclipse the sun. That moment of awe, wonderment, and peace helps to put everything back into perspective and to remind us to be grateful for the little moments, as they are always fleeting.
The total eclipse was a Monday afternoon in Vermont, I flew home the following Tuesday evening from Boston, had a PET/CT scan on Wednesday morning, my port placed that afternoon, and come Thursday morning, I would have my first chemotherapy treatment. In hindsight, what transpired was absolutely crazy and I am not sure I would recommend this to someone just starting treatments. I do not think I was able to process what was about to happen until a couple weeks after, but can you ever really be ready for something like this?
It has been two months since my last chemotherapy treatment, my hair is starting to grow back, and I am starting to reflect on it all. If you are about to embark on this treatment plan, I would try to find your own moment of joy — and hold on to it as your guiding force. As I recently stitched through this embroidery poster, it reminded me who I am, why I fought for what I wanted, why I continue to fight, and where I want to go from here. Maybe the moon has been guiding me all along and I just had to look for it in total darkness to find its pull.
If you’d like to create this embroidered poster or other embroidery kits, check out Simple and Sylvan’s site. If you’d like to make plans to see this cosmic event — meet me in Spain in March 2025 or join me in Colorado in March 2026.
Make Your Own Terrarium
As summer is dwindling, I am holding on to the simple pleasures of watering my garden and enjoying the last of the tomatoes. I know there are probably many reasons that contributed to my diagnosis — and I will never know for sure — but I do think that in recent years my disease may have been accelerated because I became more and more of an indoor creature.
As summer is dwindling, I am holding on to the simple pleasures of watering what is left of my garden and enjoying the last of the tomatoes. I know there are probably many reasons that contributed to my diagnosis — and I will never know for sure — but I do think that in recent years my disease may have been accelerated because I became more and more of an indoor creature.
I know there are great benefits to being outside and playing in the dirt, and I am trying to be more intentional about carving out time to be in nature each day. I do not know why it has felt harder for me than it should be. About halfway through my chemotherapy treatments — a friend stopped by with some plants, glassware, rocks, and guided me outside to play. Now, I would like to invite you to carve out some time of your own, play in the dirt, and make your own terrarium in six simple steps.
Step 1 — Pick Your Glassware
Choose a glass vessel that has an open top. Have you received a bouquet of flowers in a glass vase or a lovely homemade soup in a Ball jar during your journey? I would recommend using this as an opportunity to reuse any unused vases and jars in your house and give them a new life.
Step 2 — Selection of Plants
Head to your local nursery and pick out a few plants to fit within your vessel. Look for a variety of textures and colors! While you are there, be sure to pick up a bag of small rocks and potting soil. A couple tips: make sure the size of your plants will fit comfortably within the glassware you selected with room to grow and that the plants you select will thrive in similar environments.
Step 3 — Fill the Base
Start with your small rocks and add a layer to the bottom of the vessel. Depending on the vessel you choose this should be anywhere from an 1” to 2” deep. Then, add a layer of potting soil on top. Again, depending on the size of your vessel this should be deeper than the rock layer and give room for your plants’ roots to grow.
Step 4 — Plant
Plant your plants in the soil and make sure you give them enough space to grow.
Step 5 — Decorate
Another great way to add interest to your terrarium is to decorate it with rocks, shells, crystals, moss, or any other found objects. Use your imagination and find things in your house that might spark new joy in this little world you are creating. I added shells from a trip to Panama in one terrarium and then rocks from my sister’s childhood rock tumbler in another.
Step 6 — Water
Once you’re done decorating your terrarium, be sure to water it… carefully. You can do this with an indoor plant mister or ice cubes.
Now, do a little happy dance and find a good spot for your new friend!
If you make your own terrarium, please send along a photo or tag @craftingthroughcancer, I’d love to see what you create. And, if you are interested in learning more about the benefits of getting dirty, check out this NYT article.
Coloring Affirmation Cards
I feel like the last two months have been the hardest and darkest days since this journey all began. After four months of infusions, every three weeks, my mind and body were completely depleted. It was hard for me to get myself up, to get outside, to get off the couch, let alone focus on a craft. I felt like a shell of myself — and honestly I probably was.
I feel like the last two months have been the hardest and darkest days since this journey all began. After four months of infusions, every three weeks, my mind and body were completely depleted. It was hard for me to get myself up, to get outside, to get off the couch, let alone focus on a craft. I felt like a shell of myself — and honestly I probably was.
I had grand plans for a knitting project during my TCHP treatments, but as the infusions went on, it was hard for me to concentrate on anything. As soon as the pre-medications hit my system, I would become woozy from the Benadryl and would instantly get a terrible, dull taste in my mouth, the sterile smell of the infusion center would take over, and my head would become a murky fog.
This was when just doing nothing, playing cards, or mindful (mindless) coloring felt the easiest with my caretakers.
A friend of mine gifted me these whimsical small coloring cards that would lift my spirits with their positive affirmations. They fit perfectly on the swing out table connected to my infusion chair, the lines were already drawn, the composition already laid out, all I had to do was pick a color. They were also small enough that the card could be completed during one session. It felt doable, achievable, a place where I could “expect to experiment” without consequence of my own judgements.
The Mayo Clinic speaks to the benefits of coloring and suggests “as you color, pay attention to your breathing rhythm, ensuring steady, full breaths from your diaphragm, and tune into your heart rate periodically if you can.”
Medical jargon aside, this seems like a beautiful practice to embrace. I know the value in breathing and meditating, so why not add some creativity to that practice? Early in my career, I interned with the Museum of Contemporary Art Denver and I remember setting up a day camp for school children. We explored abstract painting and music. The students were prompted to listen to a diverse soundtrack and make marks on their page, in real time, based on what they were hearing and feeling from the music being played. They each created some very unexpected and moving pieces of work. It could be an interesting study to see how coloring vibrations change depending on your breathing, just like the music changed the energy of the mark.
Anyone up for experimenting with a coloring and breath work evening to see what we can create?
Artist Lexis Krieg makes these creative optimism affirmation cards. One of my favorite things is they are sold in sets of two so you can share the creativity. Pick up a set for you and gift one to your loved one at Lexisworks.
Cactus Embroidery Patch
If you have gone through chemotherapy, how quickly did your hair start to fall out? Mine started falling out almost immediately. It was such a crazy experience, one that I felt like I would be prepared for, but I was not.
If you have gone through chemotherapy, how quickly did your hair start to fall out? Mine started falling out almost immediately. It was such a crazy experience, one that I felt like I would be prepared for, but I was not.
One of my dear friends, and talented artist, came into town to help me after my second chemotherapy treatment. She brought two embroidery kits that we could each do together over the course of her stay. With my sister and friend by my side, they gave me my first buzz cut.
I felt glad to have the patchy, Tyler the Creator, leopard print hairstyle gone and was feeling more emboldened, like GI Jane, camo yoga pants included.
After my sister headed back home, we broke out the kits, sat in my shaded backyard, and began to stitch. I was a little overwhelmed with all of the stitches I would have to learn and execute within this small canvas, but with the cool air blowing over my newly trimmed head, I felt comfort knowing that I was surrounded by love and support.
There was something about stitching with my friend by my side that told me that everything was going to be okay. This is all temporary—my hair will grow back, I will get over this bump in the road, and I will learn all the stitches.
Yesterday, my mom, with her expertise as a quilter, helped me iron out the last few steps to bring the patch to completion. As I have now finished my last chemotherapy treatment, I continue to realize the power in a supportive community. There have been days where I have felt completely overwhelmed, where I have felt like this treatment and disease was all too much to take on. However, much like the number of stitches I had to learn, I didn’t have to take it all on at once — nor alone. I could take it one stitch at a time, one day at a time.
After learning many stitches, I decided the French Knot is my favorite stitch. Do you have a favorite?
If you want to create your own cactus embroidery patch, check out Antiquaria.