Countdown to Chemo. Stop #6.

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. The Novant Half.

“If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.”

African Proverb

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I would not have made it to the finish line today without some of my favorite people.

I’m sitting here on my flight to my next Countdown to Chemo stop with tears in my eyes because I have been blessed by knowing some of the best people in the world.

I saw some of my favorites out on the course, and their hugs were the best encouragement. I even saw the PA from my oncology practice and friends from Wrightsville Beach! Thank you to all of those spectators who accepted my sweaty hugs!

Special shoutout to Rick for rolling with it all this weekend and chauffeuring us to the start and finish.

“Goodness of God” just came up on my playlist. How appropriate.

“With every breath that I am able, I will sing of the goodness of God.”

I’m not looking forward to the days ahead, but I know without a doubt that I will have the best support system. How thankful I am for relationships which breathe life into my very being.

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.