Chemo dates

I just got test results from yesterday’s oncology appointment. Numbers are up again, indicating that there is growth and that (as suspected) the surgeons were not able to remove all disease during the December 29 surgery. That really makes the decision to pursue chemo that much easier as Lupron is not working for me.

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A number of things have been happening since January, but I have been slow to share publicly because experience has shown that just about the time I think we have a plan, plans change.

I can say with certainty, however, that I am not starting chemo on March 13 at Duke. Instead, the plan is for me to start chemo March 16 here in Wilmington, under the care of Dr. Robinson.

Further, I have decided to have a port inserted, and that surgery is planned for March 12. I can have the port removed at a later date if I find that it’s not for me, but weighing the pros and cons of having one, I decided it was worth trying.

Another “worth trying” decision that has been made is the choice to cold cap with Penguin Cold Caps. I am fairly low maintenance when it comes to a beauty routine, and cold capping comes with a long list of rules, so if it is something I find too cumbersome or it does not yield the desired results, I can stop at any time.

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Yesterday I met with Dr. Robinson, and we established infusion dates. Infusions will be in two parts that last, in total, about 5 hours. I will also have labs and an office visit with each appointment, so it looks like, in total, I’ll be at the Zimmer Cancer Center 7+ hours on infusion day. (This was a big factor in deciding to do chemo locally versus going to Duke and adding 5 hours of travel time to an already incredibly long day).

The current plan for infusion dates is:

• 3/16/2026

• 4/6/2026

• 4/27/2026

• 5/18/2026

• 6/08/2026

• 6/29/2026

This can change, however, depending on how my body responds to each round of chemo, particularly in relation to my white blood cell count (which is already on the low side of normal).

I have an appointment Friday morning for “Chemo Ed,” and I hope to walk away with an even greater understanding of what to expect on infusion days.

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Recently a song came up on my playlist that I haven’t heard in quite a while, and I have listened to it daily since then. I believe it will be my anthem in the days ahead.

“You’ve walked me through fires
Pulled me from flames
If You’re in this with me
I won’t be afraid
When the smoke billows higher, oh and higher
And it feels like I can barely breathe
I’ll walk through these fires
’Cause You’re walking with me”

— Jordan St. Cyr

Countdown to chemo. Stop #5

Rome wasn't built in a day, but we saw a good portion of it on foot Sunday.

We had planned to take the high-speed train from Milan to Rome Saturday afternoon, but after rail lines were sabotaged earlier in the day, we were forced to drive.

The drive ended up taking more than 6 hours, but we arrived in time for a late Valentine's Day dinner with Haiti friends. It’s a small world after all. Tammy had picked the spot, and it was magical.

Sunday we saw Rome. On foot. For 5 hours - 10 am to 3 pm - we covered roughly 8 miles and saw all of the places we had on our list - and a few more that we stumbled upon.

At 3 pm, we returned to our hotel, had a lovely lunch, and were on the road by 4 pm - an earlier departure than we had planned via train, but with the long drive back, it seemed like the best decision.

After an unplanned stop in Florence for some gelato, we made it back to Milan around midnight, tired but so happy for time in one of the most magical and historical cities on the planet.

Countdown to Chemo. Stop #4

Throughout late 2025 as the extent of the recurrence of disease became more evident, I had one question: “Will I be able to go to the Winter Olympics as planned?” After the December surgery when even more detailed information was available and I agreed that chemo was now a relevant option, again I questioned whether or not Rick and I could still attend the Olympics. At the December 29 post-op appointment, Dr. Rossi was supportive of delaying treatment for three months in order to allow this trip to happen.

It has not disappointed.

Although I am generally disciplined with my diet day-by-day, while here in Milan I have allowed myself to enjoy so many treats, and I still need to check gelato and cannoli off my list.

There is a “small town” feel to these Games, much different than what we experienced in Paris in 2024. We’ve enjoyed getting to know different people, as well as spending time with some friends we already knew.

Today we’re off on a new adventure and on to Stop #5, but we’ll be back in Milan next week for more of the Olympic Games - specifically Team USA women’s hockey.

Countdown to chemo. Stop #3.

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.

To have a port or not to have a port

“What you have done differently, looking back at your experience with chemo?” I've asked this question of a number of people, and nearly everyone has had the same basic answer, “I really wished I had a port. It would have been so much easier on my veins, and it would be less stressful on me and my nurses.”

So today I had my port placement consultation, and I will be having the procedure done March 13 at Novant. I will be receiving the PowerPort ClearVUE Implantable Port. The image below is what I was showed as a model during the consultation. Mine will be titanium.

One step closer to chemo.

Countdown to Chemo. Stop #2

It has been just shy of 14 years since I first set foot in this country I have come to love as my own. I needed one last trip before chemo to see the people and places that are so dear to my heart.

Haiti does not need me. But I know with no doubt in my mind that I need Haiti.

Adding Haiti as one of my pre-chemo stops was a given, but I did not anticipate how powerful and productive this time together would be. My heart is full.

In her book, Good Enough, Kate Bowler writes, “Blessed are we, the responsible, who take a nonlinear path. Who, as the poet Wendell Berry says, ‘every day do something that won’t compute.’ Who know that right when life gets heavy or hard or too much, we must carve a path to delight. Who do something for no reason whatsoever but for joy.”

This week in Haiti has been pure delight.

I came here with the understanding that this might be my last trip to Haiti due to the potential physical limitations that are looming. But instead of acquiescing to that sentiment, I discovered I am more determined than ever to stay strong and do what I need to do to return to Haiti sooner than later.

Despite all of the difficulties and heartache this place brings, it is a part of my heart that I am certain I can not let go.

Lupron+Letrozole & Physical Fitness

It is cold here in Wilmington this morning. When I checked the temperature at 6 am, it was 27 degrees. Brrrr. My first morning back at the beach in over a week, and it was below freezing.

My first thought? I don’t want to do this.

My next thought? I have to do this. Why? Because I know that if I start making excuses for why I can’t do things, I’ll make even more excuses in the days ahead.

So I got out my hat and gloves and favorite running jacket, and I ran the Loop. And it was cold. And it was harder to do that than it was a year ago. It was even harder to do than it was two years ago. It gets harder day-by-day. But, as I was running and listening to The Craig Groeschel Leadership Podcast, I was reminded, “Consistency beats intensity every time.” And it’s true.

I have had a number of people tell me “I don’t know how you do it” - i.e. how can you run after surgery? How can you run being on Letrozole? How can you run being on the Letrozole-Lupron combo? I believe a big reason is because through the years, I have been consistent. I’ve never been the fastest. I’ve never been the best. But I have consistently, day-after-day, put in the time and effort.

So, when people ask how I am doing with Lupron-Letrozole, I just tell them, “I am doing the best that I can.” And I believe that each day, that is enough. I’ve come to the understanding that I’ll never get faster. In fact, I'm getting a little slower year-by-year. I’ll never have the stamina I used to have. I most likely will never go further than I’ve gone in the past.

But I can keep showing up with consistency.

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.

2 Corinthians 4:16

Countdown to Chemo. Stop #1

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.