A Fortune in Memories

A Full Life, Even When the Bank Account Is Not

I will admit something. Sometimes I look at my bank account and think I should probably slow down a little.

Then I start thinking about another weekend away, another Disneyland trip, or somewhere Ernie and I have never been.

And somehow, I find a way.

Now, I am not suggesting that financial responsibility does not matter. It absolutely does. The bills still need to be paid, and life certainly is not getting any cheaper.

But I have also realized that I do not want to spend my entire life working, saving, and waiting for some perfect moment when I finally have enough money or enough time to enjoy myself.

Because what exactly is enough?

And more importantly, what am I waiting for?

There will always be another expense. Another responsibility. Another reason to postpone something.

I have a mortgage, a career, a home to maintain, and all the same obligations that everyone else has.

But I also have a husband I adore, a puppy who keeps life interesting, and family I love.

My priorities are pretty simple: my husband comes first, Max comes second, and my family comes third.

And yes, Max has somehow managed to secure the number two position. I am sure he would argue he deserves number one.

Those are the relationships that make everything else worthwhile.

I cannot put a price on the memories we create together. I cannot deposit those moments into a savings account, but I can carry them with me for the rest of my life.

And to me, that is a different kind of wealth.

Another Trip, Another Memory

Ernie and I recently enjoyed more time at Disney California Adventure.

Yes, Disneyland again!

I know some people probably wonder how many times two grown adults can visit the same place.

Apparently, quite a few.

There is something about Disney that I absolutely love. Maybe it is the atmosphere, the nostalgia, the food, or simply being somewhere that makes me happy.

We wandered through Avengers Campus, enjoyed the sights, took pictures, and spent time together without worrying about everything waiting for us back home.

We also visited Plaza de la Familia, with its beautiful Coco-inspired decorations.

And if you have ever seen Coco, you know how much of that story revolves around family, love, and remembering the people who matter most.

There is something incredibly meaningful about that.

Because when I look back at the photos from our trips, I do not think about what the hotel cost or how much we spent on dinner.

I remember Ernie standing beside me. I remember the laughter, the conversations, the silly moments, and the feeling of being somewhere we both wanted to be.

Sometimes I think the best memories are the ones that seem completely ordinary while they are happening.

A picture together. A shared meal. A beautiful afternoon.

Nothing extraordinary.

And yet, everything.

Why I Work So Hard

Work has been going amazingly well.

I genuinely love my new position at Golden 1 Credit Union. I enjoy the challenges, the people, the opportunities to lead, and the feeling of continuing to build a career that I have worked so hard for.

And I am proud of that.

When I was first diagnosed with glioblastoma in November 2023, I had no idea what my professional future would look like.

There were so many unknowns.

Would I be able to return to work? Would I still be capable of doing the things I loved? Would I have the opportunity to continue growing professionally?

Today, I am doing exactly that.

But I have also become much more intentional about why I work.

Yes, I want to be successful. I want to do a great job, support my team, continue learning, and accomplish things professionally.

But I also work hard because I want to enjoy the life that work helps make possible.

I want to take my husband on vacations. I want to experience new places. I want to give Max a wonderful life. I want to spend time with family and create memories that will last.

I do not want to spend my life working so that someday I can start living. I want to do both.

There is a balance, and I certainly have not perfected it.

But I am trying.

The Kind of Cure That Matters to Me

When you have glioblastoma, the word cure takes on an entirely different meaning.

I know the medical reality of my diagnosis. I understand that a good MRI does not mean the disease has been permanently defeated, and I know that living fully is not a medical treatment for brain cancer.

I still believe deeply in science, research, clinical trials, and the extraordinary people working to find better treatments.

But I have discovered another kind of healing along the way.

It happens when Ernie and I are laughing about something ridiculous.

It happens when Max does something that reminds me why having a dog is both wonderful and occasionally exhausting.

It happens when I am walking through Disneyland, sitting down to a great meal, spending time with family, or celebrating a successful week at work.

For those moments, I am not thinking about glioblastoma.

I am simply enjoying my life.

And that feeling is priceless.

Living my life to the fullest is my kind of cure.

It does not erase the disease. It does not guarantee tomorrow. It does not replace treatment.

But it gives me something incredibly important today.

Joy.

Purpose.

Love.

And a reason to keep making plans.

Memories Over Things

I have been thinking about what I want to remember when I look back on my life.

Will it be the things I owned? The balance in my checking account? The weekends I spent sitting at home because I was worried about spending money?

Probably not.

I think I will remember the adventures with Ernie.

The trips we took, the places we discovered, and the times we laughed until our faces hurt.

I will remember Max and all his little quirks.

I will remember family gatherings, holidays, celebrations, and the simple pleasure of being together.

And I will remember the satisfaction of working hard to build a life that allowed those things to happen.

Of course, you do not have to travel or spend money to make wonderful memories.

Sometimes it is dinner at home. A walk with the dog. Coffee with someone you love. A conversation that lasts longer than expected.

The important part is being present enough to appreciate it.

Because the memories themselves are what matter.

So, What Is Next?

Another trip? Probably.

Another adventure? Absolutely.

More hard work, more family time, more laughter, and hopefully many more good scans?

That is certainly the plan.

I have no idea what the future holds. None of us really does.

But I know what I want my life to look like while I am here.

I want to love my husband fiercely. I want Max to have the best life a little dog could ask for. I want to spend time with my family, succeed in my career, visit beautiful places, eat incredible food, and occasionally spend a little more money on experiences than I probably should.

I want to look back and know that I did not spend all my time waiting for something bad to happen.

I spent it making something wonderful happen.

And perhaps that is the biggest lesson glioblastoma has taught me.

Life is not measured only by how many days we are given.

It is also measured by what we do with them.

I might not always have a fortune in the bank, but I am building a fortune in memories.

And when it comes down to it, I would not trade those memories for anything.

Here is to more adventures, more laughter, more love, and more life.

Because I am not finished making memories.

Not even close.

— Johnathan

JohnVsGBM