Embracing a new routine. March 13, 2026
Because I am trying to minimize hair loss by utilizing Penguin Cold Caps - The Original Chemo Cold Cap during chemotherapy, today was my last opportunity for the foreseeable future to wash my hair under warm, running water and use styling products and heat to dry it, so I snapped a photo before getting into the shower. What will my hair look like in the weeks ahead?
Because of my experiences in Haiti, I don’t take warm running water for granted. But today was different. I appreciated the warm water running over my head in an entirely different way. Washing my hair was not a task for the morning. It was a luxury to savor.
Ironically, when I went to use the shampoo and conditioner I love so much, both bottles were nearly empty, and I had to shake them down to get enough of each product to adequately clean my hair.
Starting today I am not allowed to use styling products on my hair, but I was told I could add just a bit of nourishment to the ends, so I chose to use this oil that I have loved for many years. (This oil is the reason my hair is always shiny! I am going to miss being able to use it as usual.)
I am allowed to dry my hair with heat one last time today, but I have decided to let it air dry to see how manageable it will be as I adjust to the new normal.
Many things will be completely out of my control in the days ahead, but I’m hopeful that having this one option will give me something on which to focus my time and desire to “do something.”
If I keep my hair, that will be a win. If I don’t, well, that was what was expected anyway.
A day in the life of a chemo patient. March 12, 2026
9:45 am
Today is the day I am scheduled to get my port inserted. We’ll leave for Novant Health Scotts Hill Outpatient Surgery Center in just a few minutes.
The worst part of the morning so far? Fasting. I'm hungry. 😂
Because of the later surgery time, I was able to walk at the beach this morning. For that I am thankful. As an added bonus, I found two shark’s teeth.
I bathed in the antibacterial soap… again. This soap and I have had too many meetings. I am not a fan.
10:25 am
Rick and I are here at Scotts Hill and waiting to be called back for prep.
11:15 am
Still waiting to be called back. Still hungry.
12:30 pm
The procedure is finished, and I wake up fairly easily. I’m hungry, so the nurse gave me a snack.
1:30 pm
I am discharged.
2:30 pm
I arrived home. But before that, because I was so hungry, Rick stopped at PTs and got me my favorite veggie burger. Now to rest up for the remainder of the afternoon. It is rumored Clara might stop by. That would make my day complete.
I’m likely to be a little sore for the next couple of days, but this puts me one step closer to being ready for Monday. Now it’s time to pack my bag for my infusion!
Countdown to Chemo. The last stop. March 2026.
“God loves us, so He makes us the gift of suffering. Through suffering, we release our hold on the toys of this world, and know our true good lies in another world. We’re like blocks of stone, out of which the sculptor carves the forms of men.
The blows of his chisel, which hurt us so much, are what make us perfect. The suffering in this world is not the failure of God’s love for us; it is that love in action.
For believe me, this world that seems to us so substantial is no more than the shadowlands. Real life has not begun yet.”
CS Lewis
When I went to my December 29 post-op appointment with Dr. Rossi, I brought printed out calendars of January, February, and March. I knew I would be starting chemo sometime after the first of the year, but I wanted to push that out as far as possible, so in a red Sharpie I had written down all of the events I had already planned for the first three months of 2026. I really didn’t believe I would be able to do everything on the calendar, but I thought that by stretching the calendar, she and I might be able to meet in the middle.
Instead, because Dr. Rossi understands my desire pursue quality of life, she was open to my finishing all planned events before starting chemotherapy, the last of which was this week - attending the Risk Management Network meeting in Orlando, Florida.
Tonight, if God wills, I will be back home. Tomorrow I will have surgery for the port placement at 10:30 am.
These 4 days with the RMN have been full of learning and laughs, and I am so thankful I was able to come. My friends even surprised me with a birthday cake, which was very special.
I also had the opportunity to give the opening devotion this morning, and I shared how there is joy in suffering if we fix our eyes on Jesus.
How thankful I am for these last two and a half months of travel that have allowed me to prepare my heart and mind for the days ahead. My first chemo infusion will start at approximately 9 am on Monday. I value your prayers as the day will likely be a long, emotional one.
“Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. ”
Countdown to Chemo. Stop #6.
Concilium is the family I didn’t know I needed.
It has been my great joy to be part of the Concilium team for the last three years. Though we do trainings at a number of locations, my favorite place to train is in Sunset, TX, at a camp called Charis Hills.
It was here at Charis Hills in March of 2023 that I decided that I would move my care from Novant to Duke and that I would launch fearisnotmyfuture.com with this first post: The first text - March 2 — Fear is Not My Future. During those two weeks in 2023, I got a different perspective on my diagnosis, and I became determined to find joy on the journey.
Sometimes you find friendship in the most unlikely places, and some people become the family you never knew you were missing. That’s how I feel about my team at Concilium.
As I was planning my Countdown to Chemo, I believed this was a stop that would be good for my soul. I was not wrong.
We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. Romans 5:3-4
I’m headed home today, fully conscious of the fact that in just a few days the Countdown to Chemo will be over, and I’ll actually be starting down a road I never believed I would choose.
There are tears, so many tears, as I think about the days ahead, but the memories of this week are tucked in my heart to bring a smile to my face when needed.
Countdown to chemo. Stop #3.
London is a great city for walking about.
I've been asked repeatedly why I'm not starting chemo until mid March, and the answer is because Dr. Rossi and I agreed that following through with plans I had before this latest recurrence was a good thing.
I want to live and not just be alive.
So today Rick and I had a planned layover in London before we head off to stop #4.
Though I have been to London twice previously, I'd never been to the British Museum. That was rectified today.
No trip to London is complete without some proper fish and chips.
We walked by the River Thames and took in the sites. I can't get enough of the London Eye or Big Ben.
Trafalgar Square is another favorite spot since watching Bob Marley: One Love about 20 times. (I love that movie!)
Our time here was short, but we made the most of it.
Now, we're off to our next destination.
I can hardly wait.
Countdown to Chemo. Stop #1
March 13 is 62 days away
Did I have a liver resection and extensive debulking surgery exactly one month ago today? Yes!
Did I run several miles today? Yes!
Did I then run/ walk several miles today? Yes!
Did I then walk several miles today? Yes!
Did I finish the WDW half marathon along with Rick? Also, yes! 🙌 (Rachel and Jared were way ahead of us! 😅)
For years I've been saying "There will come a day when I can't do this..."
But I'm happy to report, once again, that day was not today.
It’s been two weeks
I am incredibly happy to share that this week I have “turned the corner” and am basically back to regular everyday life. I’m having to remind myself not to lift heavy objects, and I am trying to be intentional pacing myself so as not to overdo it. But my appetite is back, for most of the day my energy is back (cue an early bedtime), my abdomen is healing nicely, and I can concentrate on tasks (which means I am back to driving). I’ve even started back “running” - gingerly, carefully - since we do have the WDW Half Marathon in just over 2 weeks!
Thank you for all of your kind words, visits, and support during this time.
I had my 3rd Lupron injection on Monday at Zimmer Cancer Center with Dr. Robinson, and I will see Dr. Rossi at the Duke Cancer Center on Monday, December 29. I am hopeful we’ll be able to agree on a plan of action for 2026. I am going to remind her that I want to live, not simply be alive. I believe there’s a huge difference in those two things.
No, Baby Clara is not here yet, but every day brings us closer to her arrival, and we will be seeing her very soon!
This morning I read Luke 2:19, “But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” The question from Catching Whimsy asked, “With all the mysteries and unknowns in your life, what would it look like for you to treasure up in your heart the ambiguity God allows?”
I’ll be pondering that question in the days ahead.
Merry Christmas!
Sunday evening update
The blessings of this weekend will not soon be forgotten.
The weekend went by quickly thanks to friends and family coming by to visit.
Today included a sunrise trip to the beach, finding a shark’s tooth, a bagel sandwich from Beach Bagels, worship at The Bridge, and the sweetest call with some of my loves in Haiti.
