Day 1,998 - Cancer Camp

Last weekend I did something I haven't done properly in a while...I took a vacation. *GASP* 

Now I know some people will read that be like, "But Maddie, you went to the beach," or "What about when you traveled to South Carolina?"...yes, I've taken days off here and there for activities, and yes I've traveled to visit family. However, every time in the past three years that I've "taken a vacation," I never truly allowed my mind to stop worrying. In fact, I would find myself getting even more stressed thinking about how I was wasting precious time and worrying about how had all these things I still have/want to do. I'd come home even more tense than I did when I left. Except, this time was gonna be different. 

At the beginning of the year, I was trying to look for any young adult cancer support groups or activities that were held outside of a virtual platform. I wanted to meet new people in a non-judgemental space, and I was determined to find an inexpensive getaway from all the day-to-day craziness. Then one day, I came upon the website for YASU (Young Adult Survivors United). I found a plethora of resources and events, one of which led to a registration page for the Young Adult Cancer Camp held just outside of Pittsburgh. There were promo pictures/videos of people in their 20s and 30s smiling, going down slip 'n' slides, and participating in a writing workshop. I was sold, and instantly, I sent in my registration form.

Fast forward to August 31st, I left my morning class on campus, hopped into the car that I had pre-packed the night before, and set off down the road for Pennsylvania. All the way there, I was listening (and singing along) to showtunes in the car when "Something's Coming" from West Side Story started to play. Memories from when I was a kid driving up to Pittsburgh to visit relatives with my dad started bouncing around in my mind. The anticipation I felt driving up for camp felt like the anticipation I felt back then, knowing a lot of fun was coming my way. With a smile, I started singing along..." The airrrr is humminnnn', and something greaaaat is comin'." Something great most certainly was!

After about four hours, very little traffic, and a couple pit stops along the way, I eventually turned off onto a dirt road with a Christmas tree farm on the left-hand side. The trees were so tiny but also incredibly misleading since, further along the road, I eventually found myself in a tunnel of very tall trees. Everything was so green, and pulling my window down, I took in the fresh air. Eventually, the dirt road pulled up to a big open space with the main lodge in sight. I parked up by the entrance to what would be the dining hall and was immediately greeted by the camp counselors whom I'd never met before. They gave me a bag with some cancer survivor goodies and a schedule of activities for the next three days before pointing me in the direction of Harbison Lodge, where I would be staying with half of the girls attending. I hopped back in the car so I could unload and unpack while everyone was already gathering for an early dinner. Harbison sat quietly on top of a small slope cloaked by tall trees. I parked next to one of the campers here who happened to have the same bumper sticker as me...Already I had a good feeling about this place.

I walked into a big common room area that looked so cozy with comfy sofas perfect to curl up and read a book in; this was my fallback plan should it rain during my stay, which, thankfully, it did not. My dorm was all the way at the end of the hall, with the walls lined with four sets of bunk beds with only the top beds unclaimed. I picked the one closest to the window that had the best view of the greenery just outside. 

Once I settled in and freshened up a little, I grabbed my bag and made my way back to the dining hall. Almost 100 people filled the space! I grabbed some food and signed up for a majority of the activities before the icebreakers began. We split everyone up into two groups and repositioned the chairs and tables so that we all sat in two big circles. One by one, we introduced ourselves and stated our cancer diagnosis. I sat there with wild emotions...I had never found myself surrounded by SO many people my age who had been in my shoes before. One of the girls stated she was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma, and in my head, I was like, "OH MY GOD! I HAVE TO TALK TO THEM!" 

Until that day, I never got to meet anyone who had Hodgkin's Lymphoma despite it being one of the more common cancers in people 20-25 years old. But then...a second person stated they had Hodgkins as well, and I was totally freaking out on the inside. Where had these people been for the last 8 years?!? (I should mention that half the people attending were not very far out from active treatment and, therefore, would have been diagnosed years after me.) 

A moment later, my jaw would drop after a third Hodgkins case was announced. Out of everyone attending, a good handful of us were Hodgkin's Lymphoma survivors. I was blown away. 

After making this discovery, we dispersed, and I made a mad dash back up the hill to my lodge to grab my Unus Annus hoodie in case it got chilly. Just as the sun was starting to set, we all met up behind the dining hall, where a roaring campfire was already burning bright, hidden by a wall of trees and in front of a stone platform. Some of the girls were already cooking up smores, and I chatted with a few who weren't in my icebreaker circle earlier. With our stomachs full, we all started to drift back up towards our assigned lodges for the night, with only the full moon lighting our way. I took my time walking back, and in the middle of a clearing, I chose to stop and look up at the night sky. It had been such a long time since I had seen that many stars out. 

It was at that moment, while gazing at the stars, that I decided to make a solitary goal for myself. I wanted to use the opportunity of being at camp to embrace the theme of letting go. I wanted to use this time to have fun and relax rather than worry about anything beyond those three days. I told myself to forget about work and that my coworkers would survive without me for a few days. I was not going to allow myself to worry about my college classes since clearing my mind of that anxiety would be beneficial for my grades in the long run. I tuned out of various social media platforms for the most part so as not to be provoked by politics and drama. If I caught myself thinking about anything stress-inducing, I would just remind myself to breathe. This silent vow I made turned out to be the key to unlocking this much-needed vacation. 

The next morning, I wasn't surprised at all to find that I accidentally slept in, considering I stayed up late writing in my journal and chatting with some of the girls before actually going to sleep. Ultimately, I missed breakfast, as well as the first activity that I signed up for, the guided hike. I was the only one who hadn't gotten out of bed. Looking at my watch, I found out that I not only forgot to set my alarm but only had 10% battery remaining. I wasn't even upset to find that I left the charger at home on accident because who needs to worry about the time when my single objective was to just be in the present moment, right? Scrambling out of my bunk, I quickly got ready for the day, grabbed my camp bag, and made my way to a writing workshop I signed up for and refused to skip out on. 

I grabbed a seat just as everyone eagerly flowed into the room from their first morning activities. The long tables were positioned in a giant square, and at each chair was a brand-new guided writing journal. During this workshop, I could sense the energy in the room was full of deep emotions as people wrote about dark and painful memories, while at the same time, the atmosphere was also brimming with love and support towards one another. As volunteers read aloud some of the things they wrote, many of us were nodding our heads in agreement and empathy. Toward the end of the workshop, I felt encouraged to share what I wrote for one of the writing prompts, which I wanted to share with you all here.

The prompt: What is something you can do for yourself today that will bring you joy?

My response:

Breathe

Look and cherish the beauty all around you

Live in the moment and notice the little things

Listen, and not just to the words you or others speak

Welcome the feelings with no shame

Allow yourself to let go of the past

Discover and try something new

Eat good food in good company

Go for a swim and float with a peaceful mind

Take a long walk and admire the stars

Journal before the lights go out

But first and foremost, remember...

Breathe

It was a simple response that ended up inspiring and encouraging those in the room with me. I left the workshop feeling even more at peace but also motivated. By the last day at camp, I was proud of myself for having fulfilled a lot of what was on this list. Over the course of this getaway, I rediscovered some of my passions and hidden talents, like archery (even a week later, I still have the bruises to prove it). 

I went swimming twice, went down a slip 'n' slide for the first time in years, tie-dyed, and did a water aerobics class for the first time (because who wouldn't want to dance around with pool noodles while jamming out to Nicki Minaj's "Starships" surrounded by a bunch of cancer survivors with dark humor). I made so many new friends who all swore that they would return next year (I'm personally holding the Lymphomies to that promise). The weather was perfect during my stay, and the food was fresh, healthy, and delicious. On the second night, a bunch of us stayed up late playing board games and card games. There were moments on this trip where I felt like a kid again, and although I had only known the other campers for a couple days, I felt comfortable opening up and talking about my story multiple times. It was an incredibly healing experience.

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I left camp feeling so rejuvenated and energized, so much so that I made a few spontaneous stops along the way home. First, I stopped by the cemetery to visit my Dad's grave before swinging by his hometown of Glassport. This town was admittedly a bit run down and had changed drastically since my childhood days when I would go up to visit my grandparents/relatives in the summer. Despite that, I revisited all the old destinations and grabbed some food to go from the diner my grandfather frequented. Half the workers there recognized me instantly as "Joey's kid," and I took some time talking to each worker while looking at old pictures of my dad and grandfather. On my way out, I swore I'd come back again soon. Then a few more miles down the road, I decided to veer right to check out Fort Necessity, spending an hour out there before hitting the road again (It's not a proper road trip for me unless I find something historical about it).

This truly felt like a long overdue vacation despite it lasting less than a week. Sure, I came back tired/sleepy, but overall I felt less tense or stressed. Instead, I feel motivated and empowered going into this new semester of classes......And speaking of which, I should probably get back to my studies. 

If you are a cancer survivor, I highly recommend checking out YASU's Young Adult Cancer Camp next year. And if you aren't a survivor but know someone who is, please spread the word, as it is open to young adult survivors from anywhere in the US or Canada! YASU also offers online resources, hosts support groups and healing workshops, and holds events like this throughout the year. I also encourage anyone who is feeling generous to donate to this non-profit organization, and I'll leave the link to their webpage here: https://yasurvivors.org/

And remember...

The Beginning of the End

Hello from Baltimore!!! 

I've finally made it to the start of transplant!! On Monday I packed the car with all my comfy clothes, activities, and even my ukulele for the long stay at Johns Hopkins. My mom and I stayed in a hotel the first night since I had to wake up super early for my first procedure, and I couldn't check into my apartment until Wednesday. I took advantage of the hotel's pool and did a few laps since I was told I wouldn't be able to swim for several months. My mother also treated me out to a restaurant that serves all-you-can-eat meat since I was told any meat that I have for the rest of the treatment needs to be cooked well done (I'm not a fan of that). It was the calm before the storm and I definitely enjoyed every minute of it.

Tuesday rolled around and besides radiation day, it was a day I was absolutely dreading. I went to Johns Hopkins early in the morning to get a Hickman catheter placed in my chest. I was nervous because 2 years ago when I had my chemo port implanted, they had me on twilight sedation...and for some reason, it didn't work which made the procedure incredibly traumatic. So I was very tense going into this one especially since this catheter was going to be partially sticking out, and cosmetically, I didn't like the fact that I would be carving up my body even more.

Thankfully, the doctor who was overseeing the procedure was absolutely wonderful. Not only was he from the same area I'm from (which is out in the middle of nowhere), but he seemed to really understand what I was going through. He talked me through everything and was incredibly reassuring. And sure enough, the moment the twilight sedation hit me, I was out. Slept like a baby...and I was so incredibly happy to wake up to the doctor saying "it's all done!" that I had tears of joy. Not only did I not realize anything going on but they decided to do it on the same side at my chemo port meaning fewer scars. I'd tell you what happened after that but I honestly have no recollection of anything that happened besides waking up in bed at the hotel again. Crazy.

Anyway, the following day was Wednesday...moving day!!! More importantly CHEMO DAY!!!! At around noon I checked into my first appointment in the transplant clinic (known as the IPOP...no idea what that stands for yet). I quickly learned to appreciate this catheter since they do all the bloodwork and chemo through it. I will never be pinched again while I have it in...thank goodness, my veins can take a rest. Once the bloodwork came back all clear they hung up my chemo bags on the IV and got started. The chemo was quite honestly so much easier than I thought it would be. I mean...I've already done several over the last couple years so I'm kind of used to it by now. I even felt totally fine when I was finished and walked out of there proud.

It wasn't until after chemo that the whirlwind of events happened. First I had to check into my apartment. After figuring out the parking and filling out the paperwork, my mom, my amazing caregiver Linda, and I drove down the street to the closest supermarket to pick up some food to stock the kitchen. It was really confusing figuring out what to buy since I may have an appetite now but later on I know I probably won't. After zooming up and down the aisles we finally purchased some meals and went back to unload EVERYTHING out of the car. I lost track how many trips I made...and it didn't help that I'm on the top floor either haha!

Needless to say, I slept very soundly last night. Today was Chemo Day 2 out of 5 and all went well again. Chemo lasts for about 2.5 hours so it's not too bad. Here's hoping the rest of the week goes as smoothly. Transplant day is this coming up Tuesday and I can't wait!

Yes...I really miss my pug.

It's Happening

I hardly know where to begin. I'm currently in the middle of a tornado of events, most of which are positive but shocking. I finished my second and most difficult chemo round about 2 weeks ago and did a repeat PET scan just to be sure of the previous results. I got the phone call just last night....the scan shows absolutely no cancer activity whatsoever!! My doctor was so excited for me on the phone and he told me that the transplant team over at Johns Hopkins was so siked to hear the news. They want me to prepare for a transplant set for March 16th!!!

So naturally this morning I got a phone call from the transplant coordinator to discuss what needs to be done. I've already had a dental exam last week which showed no need for any additional work, and once I get the paperwork done on Tuesday (stupid Presidents Day weekend) they will start setting up my appointments for next week!! She told me however, I need to start getting my caregivers organized so that I start getting 24/7 care starting March 7th....which is only a couple weeks away!!

Yup...this has definitely been me since I got the call.

All day I've been scrambling to get in touch with a few people who previously offered their assistance and I have a few days set...but still a lot of empty slots. I need to get 24/7 care for at least the first month of treatment (the second month, my mother is planning on taking unpaid leave to be there for me).

I know it's a lot to ask of my friends but any help is so appreciated!! It's going to be complicated as I'm working with a lot of people's work schedules. It's truly a stressful scramble, but I just need to keep reminding myself I still have time. I just hope it all works out...and I'm sure in the end it will.

I'm also a little on edge since I'm going to have to get another catheter put into my chest on the 9th and I'm already really kinda worried about that. When I had my chemo port put into my chest 2.5 years ago, not only was I completely awake and aware of everything, but it just wasn't a good experience at all; a bit traumatic to be honest. Hopefully, Johns Hopkins will be a little more considerate of my anxiety. I just really don't like the idea of having something else inserted into my chest...ugh. I'm trying to convince my mind that it'll be like Iron Man and his arc reactor. If he can be so chill with that, then I can be ok with this thing in my chest for 60 days.

I really shouldn't be worrying so much though...instead, I should be excited. I beat the odds! I've done what the doctors thought was impossible. I took the risk of chemo and ended up being on top with a chance of a temporary cure. I say temporary because most of the doctors believe that this transplant will only buy me time...possibly long enough until the next best cure comes along. The transplant alone is a major risk with a 1/3 possibility that I may not survive...but I'll take it the chance!! I've been fighting this for almost 3 years now...I'll be glad to finally be free.

A Risk Well Taken

About 20 minutes ago I received a phone call...what may be the best phone call I've ever had the pleasure of taking. I immediately stopped what I was doing and answered, despite not knowing who it was. The soft, timid voice of my oncologist was on the other end of the line and asked to speak with me...a sense of urgency was detected. I knew right then and there it was regarding my recent PET scan. He sounded as if he had little time to take the call but I'm so glad he did...because it was the best news I could have hoped for.

"The scan results show an almost complete response, with very little cancer activity detected. This is very surprising as you have only had one treatment and the scan having been done only a week after. I'm moving your next chemo date up to this Monday and I need you to go get your bloodwork done sometime this weekend. I don't even think it's necessary for you to repeat the scan as I'm sure you will be in a remission following one more cycle of this chemo. I will reach out to the transplant team at Johns Hopkins to see if you can get a transplant within the next few weeks. Congratulations!"

I was at a loss for words and only managed to utter a thank you before the conversation ended. I took a minute to process before staggering up the two flights of stairs to tell my dad and sister the news. The transplant is a go!!!! The pains of this chemo and the risk I took were worth it entirely!! I received news that many people thought would never happen. The odds weren't even in my favour and still, I was determined to seek the impossible! And I succeeded!

Needless to say, my faith has been restored through this news, and I'm so proud of myself for making the decision I did. It was all worth it in the end. All of it! Now I have to scramble yet again to find caregivers and rush to get the necessary appointments needed to proceed. I'm potentially looking at a transplant this next month so I have to act fast. But for today...I intend on celebrating the news and letting it sink in...I might just have a new lease on life.

Reflections And Moving Forward

Today is New Years Eve 2017. Today is also a Sunday. And today happens to be the day when my oncologist decided to give me a belated Christmas present...my last chemo start date!!!!

He said that even though the hospital has openings tomorrow, he wants me to prepare to be admitted on the 8th. One reason for this is because the hospital is planning on being super busy tomorrow, and he wants me to have the best monitoring possible, since I have a track record of having adverse reactions to new chemos...like not being able to breathe (which is the scariest thing EVER). It's probably best I have as much help as possible going into this.

Another reason for the one week delay is he has already scheduled my next PET scan for the earliest possible date (January 17th in the late afternoon...fun). He wanted me to have this PET scan shortly after the first cycle of chemo to see how quickly I respond to the chemo (the quicker the better), and also as a start point to compare with a PET scan after my second or third cycle. So as the appointments stand at the moment, I'm looking at being admitted next Monday on the 8th and if all goes well, I'll be discharged on the 10th, followed by 2-3 weeks off before I go in again for the second cycle.

In a way I'm a little pleased that I have a week to prepare myself, as my preparation is mainly buzzing my hair super short again, since I've been told I will most definitely be losing my hair immediately after starting this chemo. I plan to buzz it Wednesday, but I don't even really care about the hair loss factor anymore. The only priority I have with this treatment is that it works. It's a long shot but I just have a good feeling about this. I just hope I'm right. And if all goes well, I can proceed to transplant immediately afterwards. This new year is the beginning of the end.

Looking back on this past year is honestly one I'm very proud of. Despite getting the worst news at the beginning of the year, thinking I had run out of options, a miracle happened. My body proved that it can still respond to chemo (let alone a chemo that was only supposed to keep me stable, nothing more). I also felt the closest I was to being normal. The day after I received the horrible news in January, I marched with millions of women around the world for The Women's March. I made many new friends this year. I took non-credit courses, because I missed being away from school and wanted to learn more for the sake of learning. I also travelled EXTENSIVELY...the Caribbean, UK, Europe...all because of the kindness and love of others. Dreams came true when I was able to see my family in France after over 10 years. And even though I came back from my travels to once again bad news, I found both my faith and hope grow. This was truly the year I LIVED...and I wouldn't change anything about it. All I can do is move forward to whatever the future has in store. I feel ready and charged to take on this chemo and am whole-heartedly praying for a transplant in my future. So here's to 2017 and may the new year bring us hope and joy!! Happy New Year!!!

I Get Another Shot

Wow, what a roller coaster it's been in just a week. It always seems that a trip to NIH indirectly gives me a blessing in the strangest, unexpected way. At the start of last week, I was preparing myself for what seemed like a truly horrible experience and also one with very little odds. I went and had 20 vials of blood drawn, a CT scan, a very uncomfortable MRI, an echocardiogram, a physical, and a giant consultation. I even had a crazy ordeal where I tripped over a traffic cone that I didn't see and someone unnecessarily called an ambulance despite my attempts to say I'm ok....it was so stupid. And yet once again, it seems I may have done it all for nothing...but with good reason. I HAVE ANOTHER OPTION!!!

I was told by NIH that the clinical trial was still in its very early phase with the lowest dose possible. It was already done on two patients, both of which initially responded but relapsed after only 4 months. It's promising but at the moment it doesn't have very good odds to convince me to go through it all. So at the beginning of the week, I sent an urgent email (or two...or three...oops) to my oncologist explaining the situation and begging him for any other possible options.

While I was sending him one of the emails, I recalled what happened when I first relapsed in January of 2016. My oncologist at the time told me she estimated I only had 5 years to live (yeah I didn't stay with her for very long afterwards), briefed me on a transplant and told me that I was to do a very intense chemo treatment known as ICE. Eventually, I got a second opinion and we went with a different kind of treatment...one that wasn't so toxic but ultimately ended up being not very effective. And then it dawned on me...there was a chemo that I hadn't tried!!! ICE chemo was also statistically proven to be successful with primary refractory Hodgkins Lymphoma (the 1% of lymphoma patients...aka me). Immediately I sent my doctor an email with this information and asked for his opinion expressing my strong desire to aim for a transplant (even though there is no guarantee that I will respond to anything).

So as I waited for his response, every trip I took to NIH to proceed with screening I did so with the hope and prayer that I may not need to go back there and resort to a clinical trial that most likely wouldn't work and under the doctors who treat me like a lab-rat and not a human being. God knows I have been a bit weary in my faith these past 2 years with cancer....but I went to the NIH chapel after every appointment and prayed for one more chance at a transplant. Just one more chance.

About an hour ago, I received the call from my oncologist. He is definitely willing to give the ICE chemotherapy a try!! It will be tough, I'll be sick, I'll lose my hair...but he and I definitely think it's a shot...my only shot...at a transplant. He warned me if/when the time comes for transplant, I cannot hesitate or delay. And I told my doctor that if he told me I needed to get a transplant tomorrow, I'd be packing my things up right now and going first thing in the morning to Baltimore. I know what the stakes are now and I'm ready to get to work. BRING. IT. ON.

(If chemotherapy was a college course...)

So I'm supposed to get a biopsy done this week to double check and make sure I'm not dealing with a hybrid cancer (that would change the whole outlook entirely if it is...hopefully, that's not the case). During the rest of the week, my oncologist is going to get in touch with my transplant doctor again to get their opinion. If they aren't on board anymore, he's going to speak with other transplant specialists at Johns Hopkins and even the transplant coordinators at NIH if necessary. But it looks like my prayers have been answered and there's a chance transplant may actually be in my future. The fight isn't over yet and the battle to stay alive has begun. This has already been the best Christmas present I could ask for, to be honest. I'll update again as soon as I start the treatment which will be in the next week or two. I'm going to pray that I don't experience any adverse reactions and I tolerate it well. More to come but tonight is a victory!!

The following video was essentially what was going through my head this week...(the king and sheriff are the two NIH doctors I've been seeing) 

The Calm Before The Storm

Hey, everyone!! So much has been going on since my last post, and I apologize for not really documenting it this past month. However, I will try to sum up everything as best I can now. I last wrote about the fantastic news that I'm currently in a temporary remission...it still blows my mind that I can even say that. About a week or so after I got my results I received a phone call from Johns Hopkins; they have given the ok to proceed with a donor bone marrow transplant.

I was completely thrilled until the transplant coordinator told me they wanted to get me started on the process ASAP. She scheduled about 8 different tests and scans to do in a matter of two days and to start the bone marrow transplant the following week. I was like WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT!!!!!!

It was at that moment that I realized I was not mentally prepared for this. I was still getting over the fact that I wouldn't need to proceed with a clinical trial; that I had to wrap my head around the idea of being in a hospital on the brink of death for at least 4 months.

I asked the coordinator what the rush was, considering I hadn't anticipated starting transplant until October. She went on to say that my oncologist and transplant doctor were insistent that it was urgent. When I asked why I hadn't heard from either of them directly, she said my transplant doctor was on vacation and I would be hearing from my oncologist about further instructions. I then ended the call and told myself I wouldn't worry about it until I heard from one of my doctors directly.

Needless to say in 24 hours, I heard from my doctor but there was no sense of urgency in what he was telling me. In fact, all he said was "Johns Hopkins wants you to start soon...but it's not a life or death situation if you wanted to wait. You can continue the current chemo treatment until you are ready." I took a sigh of relief. A few days later I received an email from the transplant doctor at Johns Hopkins giving me the ok for October. I was relieved to hear this, but boy was I still upset at the transplant coordinator for causing unnecessary panic.

However as each day pass, the more I became anxious about the upcoming ordeal. I started to look into the details...and they aren't pretty. The transplant coordinator told me that at the start of the transplant process will be scans and tests to make sure I'm healthy enough to go into it. My sister, who is my donor, will also be going through these tests. When these are finished, I go inpatient and get a catheter put into my chest (definitely not looking forward to this after the experience I had with my chemo port). Then I begin 5 days of extreme chemotherapy (10x harder than what I've been on) followed by a day of full body radiation therapy. Out of everything that I will be going through, this will be the most challenging for me. Everyone always tells me "oh radiation doesn't feel like anything...it's not a big deal" but for me...it's a phobia. I've been scared of any amount of radiation ever since I learned about the after-effects of WWII's Hiroshima. Now I know what you're thinking..."Maddie, please, you aren't going to be exposed to THAT much radiation and treatment lasts about 15 minutes."....that's not it....it's the fact that other cancers (breast cancer especially) run in my family and this will put me at an even higher risk to develop that later on. The last thing I want is to expose my body to potentially enduring this nightmare all over again. But I guess, that's the payment we have to make in order to gain a few more years of life, right? It's definitely a mental dilemma for me.

Anyway, the day after radiation is when my sister comes in to donate her bone marrow cells and I receive them. Then the torturous wait begins. For about 2 weeks I will be monitored to make sure I don't have any serious adverse reactions, which is always a major risk with donor cell transplants. If all goes well, I will go into the outpatient housing across the street from the hospital for the remainder of my recovery period which can range anywhere from 3 to 6 months. I will be fighting on all fronts...physically, mentally, and emotionally I will be drained. I will also be restricted to how many visitors I can get. It's going to be tough...and with all these factors flooding my thoughts lately, I need to learn to accept it and prepare with the time I've been given between now and October.

Before I was diagnosed with cancer, I had been saving up to take a trip to see London and around Scotland (where some of my ancestors are from). I've also been dying to see my family again in France. Of course, everything was put on the back burner when I couldn't afford that and dealing with cancer. With the many challenges I've endured (barely making it out with my life at some points), and the risky path that lies ahead, my friend Katie decided to make a GoFundMe to grant me this wish. So with the remainder of the time I have left, I will be traveling to the UK and France for the month of September. I am so incredibly grateful to all who donated and cannot express how much I need this going forward. When I am in the hospital, I will have something to look back on....the medical miracles that have happened this year and the wishes granted to travel and see my family.

I will not be able to write while I'm away, but I will write all about it when I return (I'll take lots of pictures I promise). I will also have access to my blog while I'm in the hospital and I can guarantee that I will be writing A LOT then. For now, I'll leave you with this and see you in October!!!