Time Flies When You’re…What am I doing?


Today marks one month (ONE MONTH!) since I released Mexicancer. I am extremely proud of where this book journey has taken me so far. I’ve met amazing people and have gotten the most amazing response to my story.

Part of me thinks “Wow, I should’ve released this ages ago! What was I waiting for?” But I know the response to the book wouldn’t have been the same back then. I believe timing is everything. Things do not come to those who wait. Things come to those who work hard and cry about not having enough money to buy mascara….(Wait, what?)

You see, the day Mexicancer was released, this is how much I was worth:


I couldn’t even afford to BUY MY OWN BOOK the day I released it. I meant what I said: Remission is NOT the start of some fabulous new life. Yes, the gratitude is there and will always be there. What people don’t see, is the countless bills patients still have to pay YEARS after they’ve finished treatment. I’m constantly trying to make up for all the time I’ve lost. The fear of being left behind consumes me everyday. Having to adapt to the changes in the job industry, all while trying to prove my disability won’t be a factor….well, it’s exhausting. Sometimes people like me have to stay home and cry over being unemployed and poor.

I cried the day I released Mexicancer. Partly because I couldn’t read what you guys were reading. (I only had the PROOF copy; the one that is sent to the author for review prior to release.) But I was mostly in tears over how it was just all unfolding in front of me – all the while not even having enough dough to buy…well, anything.

The very next day after the release, I got hired at my current job. I’m not rich. Not even close. But I can now ask for an extra shot of espresso in my Latte without having to write it down on a post-it later as a reminder.

Again, timing is everything. Sometimes someone or something higher than you decides when YOUR time is right.

Happy one month anniversary, my little book. I love you.


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MEXICANCER is available now on Amazon

I can’t even begin to express the incredible high I am feeling right now. I am officially published. I am so happy to share my story with you all. Spread the word. Thank you all for your support!



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Wait is finally over. 

Here it is, y’all. A decade of experiences that made me who I am today. Mexicancer will be available exclusively on Amazon this Wednesday April 24th 2015. It’s been a crazy ride getting this book done but it’s finally here. Most importantly, I’M HERE to watch this become a reality. I hope you will read and share my story with anyone who’s survived something similar. Thank you all for your incredible love and support so far. Cheers to good health, love, and living life on your own terms.  

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It’s ready. Are you?

Book will finally be available April 22nd 2015…it’s been quite a journey putting it together. Can’t wait for you all to read. ❤


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My apologies…

…but a book is currently in progress.


Yes. For real.




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It’s Only Rock ‘n’ Roll

Every rock fan dreams of one day hanging out with his/her heroes…

It was a few months after my first encounter with the band. I heard Velvet Revolver was coming back to Los Angeles for a gig at the Gibson Amphitheatre. And holy shit, Alice In Chains would open the show.

I knew I had to go. I had to hear these bands play my songs. I bought my tickets, then wondered if I should take Matt up on his offer for backstage passes. Wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?

It didn’t hurt. He remembered me and I was on the list. I called my trusty “plus one” and we set off into unchartered rock ‘n’ roll territory: the forbidden backstage area.

There I was. Fresh out of the hospital, brand spankin’ new leg, and a heart so full of excitement, I thought it would burst. I kept remembering how I had photos of these guys in my locker and on my bedroom walls…and now I was about to hang out backstage with them. Me. A poor little Mexican girl who was just at the right place at the right time.

I get to the door and wait behind an unhappy bunch of people. They didn’t look familiar to me at all. But they definitely looked well off. A young lady with a thick fur coat was cursing at security because her name wasn’t on the list. And it was the first time I heard those god awful words that make me cringe…

“Don’t you know who the f*** I am?!”

Nobody. Obviously.

As I made my way to the guy with the list, I gave him my name. While he was shuffling through papers on his clipboard, fur coat lady stared me down and scoffed as if I had no business being in the same line she was in. She looked at me as if I were covered in dog shit.

“Solorio? Okay, you’re here.”

Fur coat lady looked shocked. And began cursing again. I slapped on my backstage pass and thanked security.

Hope that coat kept you warm outside the show, sweetheart.

Another guard escorted us to an area behind the venue. It was such a long way. Thank goodness I had my chair. My lungs weren’t fully ready for this.

 As we got closer to the VIP area, my heart began to race. I couldn’t believe I was really here.

I always had this image of Slash and the others in my head. I always fantasized about what it would be like to be around them before a show. I imagined Slash would be piss drunk, slurring, and jamming out on his guitar while ranting about what’s wrong with today’s youth.

I pictured total chaos happening backstage. Sex, drugs, groupies…I was about to witness what few fans have before. My god! It’s all really gonna go down tonight!


“Ok, go on inside. Have a good night, miss.” Security guard was so polite. Didn’t he know I had no business really being here?

As we made our way in, I immediately see a bar. I see food and a ton of people mingling about.

 I see roadies and more bodyguards. The smell of whiskey and cigarettes hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Finally,” I thought, “here we go…”

All of a sudden, something strange caught my eye. I blinked twice to be sure I was seeing correctly. Can’t be another chemo hallucination. It’s been ages since my last round.

I got a closer look. What the hell was this doing back here?

It wasn’t a groupie’s bra. It wasn’t a joint, it wasn’t anything you’d expect to see at a rock show.

It was a damn sippy cup.

 A sippy cup? Who brought their kids to a Velvet Revolver concert?  Who the hell let kids backstage?!

Then, it dawned on me. These guys are now sober, married, or have children. It’s over.

 I had completely missed the sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll train. I was born too late. What on earth made me think they still partied the way magazines said they did?

In a strange way, the sippy cup relaxed me a little. It definitely brought me back to reality.

I ended up meeting wonderful people that night. From Slash’s attorney to Cindy Crawford. People were just so cool, so nice, and so…NORMAL.

Matt finally came out and made his way through the crowd to greet me. We hung out with a few others in the band and their relatives before the show. It all felt so surreal but casual at the same time.

“Hey, Slash, remember Wendy? You signed her foot…” Matt gave him a quick rundown of what I went through.

“Oh yeah!” he said, “Hey, glad you could come out.”

Hey. Me, too.

When it was time for the show to start, my plus one and I made our way to our seats. They put us in an area suitable for my chair. It was a little far from the stage, but it was safe. Away from the drunkies spilling beer everywhere.

At one point during the show, I got so excited to hear the guys play songs I had forgotten about when I was sick. Something made me jump out of my chair and scream.

A drunk man nearby saw this and flipped out, “OH MY GOD! It’s a miracle! She can stand!”

I laughed hysterically. I couldn’t believe I almost gave up fighting for my life. I would have missed out on so much. I didn’t even need alcohol. The music was more than enough to recharge my brain.

After the show, I returned to the backstage area to say goodbye to the band. We took a few photos and I started heading out.

Matt walked us out to the gates and reminded me to keep in touch.

“Remember. Anytime you wanna come to a show…”

…and we’ve been friends ever since.


I remember not being able to sleep that night. I was too high on everything I saw, felt, and heard. It had nothing to do with being star struck. Someone or something bigger than me was letting me know that better things are ahead if I just keep pushing through. Stick around, and you’ll see your nightmare was all for a reason, Wendy.

I’m definitely on the list. I am a permanent name on the universe’s VIP list. That’s for sure.

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I used to treat it as if it were a person. As if it were some sort of entity that wouldn’t leave me alone. Every day it kept wanting to hang out with me. It wanted to follow me to school. It wanted to go to work with me. It wanted to be my date at every family reunion. It wanted to party with me. It wanted to sleep with me.

Grief ain’t the bad guy. Grief is a natural human emotion that simply has a bad reputation. It doesn’t mean any harm. It just wants to make sure it’s there to help you heal. It wants you to know that it has the right to be felt just like happiness and anger.

The more I avoided it, the more trouble I got into. The more I pretended to be healed, the harder it tried to get my attention.

You can’t pick up where you left off and pray your brain magically erases the trauma you’ve experienced. It’ll stay quiet for a while. But then it’ll slap you across the face when you least expect it. (Like, maybe when you’re at a party surrounded by people who don’t even care about what you went through.) But that’s a whole other story…

The day I decided to make grief a friend of mine, I began to really blossom back into the “good” me. I started accepting what I couldn’t change. I took control over everything I could. (And finally embraced being a control freak.)

Gained lots of critics, lost a lot of time, but it was worth it. I learned to make grief part of my emotional repertoire. I will allow myself to feel it when I need to. For the rest of this life.

It’s just like every other emotion. It needs to be felt and then controlled in order to truly make the most out of this weird interval between birth and death.

Everyone has their bad days. Make them count.

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