#miraclesdohappen

I’m finally starting to feel better, thanks to an oldie but goodie drug called CellCept. After ten years of fighting, my cancer is stable on a treatment that isn’t as brutal on my body, and for the first time in years I’m feeling real relief from my neuro symptoms.

The Savior continues to hold me up as I figure out who I am in this new season of healing. When life has been heavy for so long, who do you become afterward? I’m still learning, and I’ll keep sharing my journey as I go. ❤️

Thank you for every prayer, every kind word, every meal, every bit of support. They’ve all been answers to my own quiet pleas to the Lord. My one hope is to pay it forward!

I’m at treatment today and thought about something I haven’t talked much about…

I haven’t shared much about my paraneoplastic syndrome… Mostly because no one knows what that even is 😅

About eight years ago when I was completely off cancer treatment, I began declining neurologically. At first it was gradual, but over the course of two years, things ramped up quickly. I started experiencing:

• Nerve and muscle pain in my hands

• Right leg weakness

• Breathing difficulties

• Trouble swallowing (dysphagia)

• Blood pressure swings/tachycardia

• Random fevers

• Tongue tremors and weakness

• Double vision

It all sent me to the Mayo in Rochester where I spent a month going through just about every test you can imagine: CTs, PET scans, MRIs from head to toe, EMGs, nerve conduction studies, spinal tap, skin, muscle, and fat pad biopsies, sweat test (brutal), autonomic testing, respiratory testing, and endless labs. I saw specialists in oncology, neurology, immunology, rheumatology, cardiology, and physical medicine.

A lot of the tests did come back abnormal and yes, I did have multiple myeloma, but my tumor burden was low, it was not enough to explain my symptoms. Nothing led to a definitive… yet.

Finally, a sharp rheumatologist at Mayo Clinic mentioned he’d seen similar neurological issues in other blood cancer patients. Something clicked. My team back in Dallas agreed, and I restarted treatment. I began improving. We adjusted treatment again and even more relief. But after five years of this, I was exhausted and needed a break.

Then came a stem cell transplant, which I hoped would be the answer.

But it didn’t work. That was devastating.

I’m now back on treatment, and while it’s helping, I still don’t have full relief. After years of searching, we finally have a name: T-cell–mediated, antibody-negative paraneoplastic neurological syndrome. (Yes — it’s a lot.)

What does that mean?

Basically, my immune system, while trying to fight the cancer, started mistakenly attacking my nervous system. Because I don’t have the usual autoantibodies doctors look for, it was incredibly hard to diagnose. But my neurologist and hematologist agree it is most likely my T-cells that are doing the damage — especially to my motor, autonomic, and cranial nerves.

Next month, we’re starting a new neurologic treatment alongside my cancer care, and I’m really hoping and praying 🙏 it works.

I truly appreciate your continued prayers! And if sharing this helps even one other person going through something similar, it’s a win. I really believe this condition is often missed or overlooked in cancer patients.

I’m at treatment today, my 6th infusion since transplant. I’m now six weeks back into this, and I’m now just finally starting to see some real progress. It’s slow, but it’s happening 🙏

This journey has tested me in every way. Some days are so hard. But today, I feel hopeful. I was able to see Jackson play basketball and workout for the first time in over 3 months!

If you’re going through something heavy… Please keep going. Even the tiniest steps forward matter.

These past few months have been incredibly hard on both Jackson and me. I haven’t always been able to show up physically in the way I’ve wanted to, and I know that’s been tough on him too. But through it all, we’ve now somehow found our rhythm. We’ve shared extremely unquiet moments of laughter, and have spent a lot of down time together that’s undoubtedly helped us grow closer. I mean, we now even almost have the same haircut!

It’s reminded me that being a mom isn’t always about doing everything perfectly, it’s about showing up with love, even when you’re running on empty.

I truly believe that the Lord steps in and strengthens us where we fall short. He fills the gaps with grace, and somehow, that’s been enough.

The 100-Day Journey Begins

Well, now you will see me without hair 🧑‍🦲

Today Wednesday marks Day +1, the beginning of a 100-day stem cell transplant process. That’s exactly how they phrase it—+1, +2, etc., counting each day forward as I move through treatment and recovery.

Everything starts with a high dose of chemotherapy called melphalan, which will be infused through a PICC line—a small catheter in my arm that delivers medication directly into my bloodstream. Its job is to wipe out my bone marrow, eliminating every single blood cell, both cancerous and healthy. Over the next few days, my blood counts will drop to zero, leaving me vulnerable but ready for the next step.

On Day +3, through that same PICC line, I’ll receive my new baby stem cells (approx 10 bags) kicking off the slow process of rebuilding a brand-new immune system. It won’t be easy. A few days after the transplant, the real side effects will begin—hair loss (I’ve already taken care of that 😉), nausea, vomiting, and extreme fatigue. But I plan to push through, staying as active as possible through the POWER physical therapy program. After all, I can’t be shown up—I am a therapist myself!

Once my blood counts begin too recover, I’ll be discharged to 24-hour care, where my amazing sister Stacey and Jason will take over for the next month. And then, after 100 days, I’ll finally be cleared to re-enter life again.

This is where I pray it will all be worth it. That the cancer will be obliterated. That the neurological deficits I’ve been battling will be gone. That this journey, as grueling as it will be, will lead to healing.

Strength in Letting Go

Today, I lost my hair. But I didn’t lose myself.

I knew this day was coming, and yet, nothing fully prepares you for looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger staring back. It’s a reminder of the battle I’m fighting, the storm I’m walking through. But in that reflection, I also see something else—resilience, love, and the unwavering grace of God carrying me through.

This journey has tested me in ways I never imagined, yet it has also revealed the incredible power of the human heart and the depth of God’s mercy. I thought I had learned all there was to learn about strength, but life—and faith—keep teaching me. One of the greatest lessons? I am not alone.

Today, I didn’t shave my head alone—my boys stood with me in solidarity, turning a difficult moment into one of profound love and unity. And beyond them, so many of you have shown up for me, lifting me up when I’ve felt weak, reminding me that true beauty, true strength, isn’t about what’s on the outside—it’s about the love we give, the kindness we receive, and the courage to keep going.

Strength in Letting Go

Today, I lost my hair. But I didn’t lose myself.

I knew this day was coming, and yet, nothing fully prepares you for looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger staring back. It’s a reminder of the battle I’m fighting, the storm I’m walking through. But in that reflection, I also see something else—resilience, love, and the unwavering grace of God carrying me through.

This journey has tested me in ways I never imagined, yet it has also revealed the incredible power of the human heart and the depth of God’s mercy. I thought I had learned all there was to learn about strength, but life—and faith—keep teaching me. One of the greatest lessons? I am not alone.

Today, I didn’t shave my head alone—my boys stood with me in solidarity, turning a difficult moment into one of profound love and unity. And beyond them, so many of you have shown up for me, lifting me up when I’ve felt weak, reminding me that true beauty, true strength, isn’t about what’s on the outside—it’s about the love we give, the kindness we receive, and the courage to keep going.

March is Multiple Myeloma Awareness Month! Having personally struggled with this blood cancer for 7 years, I'm passionate about shedding light on its challenges. Join me in spreading awareness, encouraging us survivors and fostering hope for a cure.