There’s a first time for everything.

I have successfully avoided going to the ER despite all that has taken place in my life medically the last seven years. That is, until this morning.

Over the last several weeks, I have had increasing pain in my abdomen and back. Dr. Robinson believed it to be due to disease progression and on Monday offered a prescription for narcotics, which I declined. He reminded me, “You don’t have to be a hero.”

I should have listened to him because the pain continued to increase, resulting in little sleep last night. About 4:30 am, I realized I needed help, and I asked Rick to take me to the ER.

Thankfully they were not busy, and I was seen right away. The attending physician ordered a small dose of morphine for me, and I felt immediate relief. He also ordered a CT scan which revealed disease progression.

I’m home now and planning to take it easy the rest of the day. It would appear I am entering a new phase of this journey - pain management. I was prescribed morphine in pill form to take until I see Dr. Robinson again on July 20.

Please continue to pray for me as we navigate next steps.

Immunotherapy Update

It’s been two days since my first infusion, and thus far the side effects have been minimal - fatigue, dry mouth, muscle soreness.

These issues weren't bad enough to keep me from watching Miss Clara for a couple of hours today or to keep me from my morning walk at Wrightsville Beach.

On a positive note, I had been dealing with considerable pain and inflammation in my abdomen for the last two weeks, and both have substantially subsided since Monday’s infusion. Coincidence? Causation? Time will tell.

July 6, 2026 – First Immunotherapy

Today felt like a treasure, from my beach walk where I found a shark's tooth to an afternoon visit with a friend.

What a different experience immunotherapy was from chemotherapy! I am so grateful.

My first appointment wasn't until 10:00 a.m. instead of 7:00. That meant I had plenty of time to walk the beach, meet with the leadership team in Haiti on Google Meet, and even accomplish a few things around the house before leaving for the infusion center.

At the beach this morning, I found a shark's tooth. As I picked it up, I caught myself thinking, “I don't know how many beach walks I have left, but I found a shark's tooth today.” Somehow that little treasure felt sweeter than it once would have.

The infusion itself was gentler and much shorter than I expected. I wore normal clothes instead of my chemo layers. Rick brought me lunch, and I actually felt like eating. A massage therapist unexpectedly stopped by my chair. My nurse was so kind and her gentle spirit immediately put me at ease. I was finished about 2 o’clock.

None of those things changed my diagnosis, but every one of them reminded me that God's mercies often meet me in ordinary moments.

When I got home, a sweet friend stopped by to visit and bring me some ginger tea. What a refreshing treat! I love it.

I even got two greeting cards in the mail today. Look at God's timing! ❤️

We'll see what tomorrow brings. Immunotherapy often has an array of side effects, so I don't know what the next few days will hold. But today, I'm not borrowing tomorrow's trouble.

Instead, I'm savoring today's gifts. When the future is uncertain, the gifts of the day seem just a little bit sweeter.

Spotted in Dr. Robinson’s office.

Today is not a day that cancer stole. Oh, no. Today is another day that I lived.

When plans change

Today feels really odd.

Based on the schedule for chemotherapy that was originally laid out, today should have been my last treatment - treatment 6 of 6. I suppose I expected to “ring the bell” today, though I must admit I wasn’t looking forward to that because I knew that finishing 6 cycles of Carbo Taxol wouldn’t be the end of the story.

But then plans changed when my ANC and my platelets went so low after the initial treatment. A three-week delay ensued. That pushed the entire schedule back, so today should have been treatment 5 of 6.

But then came the lab results and the CT scan that showed the cancer has progressed significantly since we started chemotherapy treatment in March. Words like “high histologic grade,” “progressive disease,” and “platinum resistant” now define my disease.

And so I am conflicted. The very thing I fought for seven years became the valley I willingly passed through, but I was extracted from this same valley without actually walking the full length of the path. I never envisioned this being the way the story would play out.

Part of me wishes I were at chemo this morning because that would mean it had been working, and part of me is so glad it’s over. I never believed it would work for me. That’s why I fought going this route for so long. And I was right. But it doesn’t feel good to be right in this case.

I continue to believe that there is more to be learned on this journey, and I am thankful for Biblical wisdom that reminds me today and each day, “The Lord directs the steps of the godly. He delights in every detail of their lives.” Psalm 37:23

None of the twists and turns on the journey have taken God by surprise.

Would you like to get well?

Walking the beach this morning, I listened to a sermon centered on this Scripture:

“When Jesus saw him and knew he had been ill for a long time, he asked him, ‘Would you like to get well?’”

— John 5:6

I thought about all the times in my life I have heard this story told as if the man by the pool of Bethesda simply hadn’t been doing enough, that when Jesus asked him this question he simply “made excuses.” I have felt the weight of that same judgment as people ask me whether I have tried this thing or that or if I know what “caused” my disease.

But Jesus was calling the man to do nothing, not to grasp at healing, not to scurry to the pool. Jesus wasn’t asking the man to try harder. Jesus was asking the man to put the full weight of his trust on what the Lord could do. Further, Jesus wasn’t asking the man simply about physical healing. Jesus was calling the man into a deeper understanding of Who He is because when we allow Jesus to heal us, we are made whole - body, mind and spirit.

Yesterday I shared with everyone that I am going to give immunotherapy a try. Yes, I want to be made whole physically, but the reality is this treatment is a temporary fix for a permanent condition. However, if I will allow Jesus to make me whole - body, mind and spirit - I have no fear of the future because come what may, He has already won whatever battle I perceive to be fighting.

More than one person has told me, “I am praying that God will give you complete healing.”

Allow me to tell you with complete assurance, there will come a day when your prayers will be answered. Because yes! I would like to get well, and I look forward to seeing how the Lord will accomplish His purpose for me.

Immunotherapy it is!

We got back from the World Cup yesterday afternoon and shortly thereafter I had a telehealth visit with Dr. Robinson. We talked about moving forward with immunotherapy as Dr. Rossi is in favor, as well.

Today I had a telehealth visit with the Family Nurse Practitioner at Zimmer, and we went over some of the specifics of this treatment, including dates and times.

Each cycle of immunotherapy will be 6 weeks long. On Day One, I will receive two drugs - Nivolumab and Ipilimumab. On Days 15 and 28, I will receive only Nivolumab. Day One will last roughly three hours. Days 15 & 28 will last roughly an hour to an hour and a half. We did not discuss how many cycles, but so far, we have two and a half rounds on the calendar. That will take us into mid-September. As I learned during chemo, dates are subject to change based on my body’s response to this treatment.

I am finding that a common misconception around immunotherapy is that the side effects will somehow be less or “better” than those from chemotherapy. That is not true. Immunotherapy carries its own risks, and they are substantial. Therefore, during today’s visit we talked about the risks to my thyroid health, my pulmonary health, and my digestive health. I was also told to keep Zofran on hand as nausea is a real possibility, as is a rash and a fever. My thyroid function will be checked every six weeks.

During discussion, I noted that I already have scheduling conflicts in August and September with treatments Novant scheduled, and I was told that I can “live my life” and dates can be adjusted as necessary (i.e. bumped back a week to accommodate travel).

The big news from the call? Insurance has already approved this treatment! Both Dr. Rossi and Dr. Robinson had been cautiously optimistic about the ability to get approval, so to get it within 24 hours seems like a big win. It helps that this is my 3rd line of treatment, my cancer is platinum resistant, I have high grade histologies, and my disease is termed “non-curative.” The goal of this therapy is palliative.

I’m looking forward to starting treatment on July 6. My port lab is scheduled for 10 am, I should see Dr. Robinson at 11 am, and the infusion should start about 11:30 am.

Thanks for taking the time to read this far. I included quite a few details you’re free to research on your own. I appreciate all of you who take the time to read updates and give me space to process without asking too many questions.

Also, your prayers mean everything!

Immunotherapy?

I had a really good chat with Dr. Rossi yesterday during our telehealth visit. She concurred with Dr. Robinson that chemotherapy was not having the desired effect and that we need to explore other options.

Though we talked about three possible therapies for the days ahead, we both agreed that immunotherapy would be the best option given my current situation and lifestyle. The one issue with immunotherapy is that it is expensive and often denied by insurance companies. Dr. Rossi has not yet used immunotherapy to treat a patient with GCT, but taking all factors into consideration, she feels it’s worth a shot with me.

Dr. Rossi does plan to consult with Dr. Hillman at UCSD, just to see if there’s anything he might suggest that we have not thought of at this point.

Please pray that we can get insurance approval and move forward with this plan if it truly is my best option.

I am incredibly thankful for access to good medical care and a team of health care professionals who are so willing to spend time considering what is best for me.

I know how the story ends

Sometimes it feels like everyone is sad except me. I have seen that sadness in the faces of friends and family. I have seen that sadness on the face of health care workers. I have seen on the faces of random strangers when they hear about my story.

Health care professionals deal with these issues every day - the sad realities of life that sometimes mean there is no cure, no treatment, no answer.

I recently said to my health team, “We all know how this story is going to end. We just don’t know how it’s going to look on the way there.”

But the truth is, the story doesn’t end here on earth. It will end with Heaven and communion with the Father forever. Yes, I know how the story ends, but it doesn’t end with the grave.