So happy

so happy

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Earlier this week, my oncologist made the decision to stop chemotherapy treatments early.

While I am incredibly grateful to close this chapter, it wasn’t because we reached the finish line exactly as planned. Recent pulmonary testing showed my lung capacity had declined by 33%, and that was enough for my care team to determine it was time to stop treatment.

After 18 chemotherapy treatment days across 9 weeks, chemotherapy is officially behind me.

And yet, this moment feels a little more complicated than I expected.

The next step is a PET scan to determine whether the treatment accomplished what we hoped it would. If there is no evidence of active cancer, we will move forward with surgery to remove the remaining affected areas. Until then, I find myself sitting in a waiting period that feels both overwhelming and underwhelming at the same time.

There is relief. There is gratitude. There is hope. But there is also uncertainty.

To put it into perspective, chemotherapy wasn’t just “18 treatments.” Over a 9-week period, I sat through 18 treatment days that included nearly 90 different IV infusions of chemotherapy drugs, hydration, steroids, anti-nausea medications, electrolytes, and supportive medications delivered through my port.

So while chemotherapy may be over, my body is still trying to recover from the reality of what it endured.

Nothing feels normal. Everything feels harder than it used to. My stamina is gone. My body is exhausted. My mind is tired. In many ways, I feel more fatigued now than I did during treatment, and I’m realizing that for the first time in nine weeks, I’m no longer being supported by the steroids that helped carry me through.

What was supposed to be 28 planned treatments became 21 then 18. While I wish my lungs could have tolerated more, I am grateful for a medical team that prioritized my long-term health and made decisions based on what my body needed.

Most of all, I am grateful for my dad and the village that surrounds me. 

From surgeries to appointments, long infusion days, difficult conversations, and the moments when I simply couldn’t function normally, so many of you have been there.

There is no way through a season like this alone, and I will never be able to fully express how much appreciation I have for everyone’s love, patience, and presence.

For now, I wait - we wait.

Wait for the scan.

Wait for answers.

Wait to learn what comes next.

And in the meantime, I’m choosing to trust the process until remission is a reality which we are still so close yet so far from. ❤️