A lighter, steadier update * from this phase of my colon cancer journey — a small laugh, a quiet season, and a reminder about staying hydrated.
If you’re just joining me, welcome. I’m grateful you’re here. The earlier updates in this journey are linked below if you’d like to walk back through the story with me.
- Update #1: Rooted & Established in Love — The Beginning of My Cancer Journey
- Update #2: Colorectal Cancer Awareness Month — My Story Behind the Statistics
- Update #3: Finding My Footing in the Hard Middle
- Update #4: Strength, Setbacks, and Small Victories
I walked into my December appointment already preparing my usual list of excuses. You’d think after all this time I’d have a polished answer for my doctor’s favorite question: “So, how’s the walking going?” But no — I still reach for the classics. Too hot. Too humid. Too cold. Too Florida. Too… something.
This time, though, when he asked, I didn’t even bother with weather. I just blurted out, “How ’bout them Cubs?”
He stared at me like I’d suddenly started speaking in riddles (or tongues if Methodists spoke in tongues). It was December. Baseball wasn’t even on the horizon. And truly, what do the Chicago Cubs have to do with my activity level or my life in Florida?
My husband didn’t miss a beat. “That’s her standard line when she doesn’t want to talk about something,” he said, shaking his head with that familiar mix of affection and amusement.
And just like that, the room softened. A tiny moment of levity in a season that has been more about slow, steady progress than big dramatic updates. A reminder that even in the middle of cancer treatment, my humor is still intact — even if my step count isn’t.
A moment with my dad at Wrigley Field — where laughter, love, and a little Midwest stubbornness meet.
A Quieter Middle
There isn’t a lot of headline‑worthy news this time, and honestly, that feels like a gift. I’m relatively stable. My body seems to be settling into a rhythm with the immunotherapy. Based on my most recent pet scan, I’m nearing the end of this chapter of my colon cancer journey — something that feels both surreal and deeply hopeful. It looks like I will finish up my immunotherapy in late April, Early May. We will then switch to monitoring the disease with periodic pet scans. I assume frequent blood draws as well to make sure the cancer markers stay in check.
This phase is quieter. Less adrenaline. More listening to my body. More noticing the small things — the way the morning light spills across the kitchen counter, the comfort of a warm mug between my hands, the soft hum of everyday life returning in little pieces.
Healing, I’m learning, isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s a slow unfurling, like a leaf deciding it’s safe to open again.
Faith Through Friendship
One of the unexpected blessings of this season has been the chance to travel a bit and spend thyme with old friends. Nothing extravagant — just simple, familiar moments with people who have known me across decades and chapters of my life.
Last month, I was able to fly “home” to Cincinnati for a short visit. I was able to reconnect with friends I hadn’t seen in quite a while. There’s something sacred about that kind of friendship. The kind where you don’t have to explain yourself. Where laughter comes easily. Where you feel seen in the ways that matter.
Being with them felt like its own kind of grace — a reminder that God often works through the people who know us best. Not in big, dramatic gestures, but in the steady presence of those who show up, sit with you, and make you feel like yourself again.
Those visits poured a little more strength into me.
Then and now:
Over thirty years of friendship, laughter, and life lived. The kind of love that feels like grace. God often works through the people who know us best.
A Gentle Reminder I Didn’t Want
Even in this steadier season, my body still has its limits. Yesterday I found myself back in the infusion chair — not for treatment, but for fluids. Dehydration snuck up on me again, faster than I expected, faster than most people realize it can.
Sunday started off with feeling “normal”. I had lunch and then one minute I was just a little off. I was tired, nauseous , just not feeling right. I took a fairly long nap. When I woke up, my body was waving a white flag. The next several hours weren’t pleasant. Couldn’t decide whether to go to the ER, call the Dr or just wait it out. Typical for me, I waited till morning and then ended up calling the primary care doctor and the cancer dr. The primary care Doctor’s office responded first and was able to get me in quickly.
It’s humbling. It’s frustrating. And it’s a reminder that even when things are stable, I still have to pay attention, still have to care for this body that’s been working so hard for me.
While I was waiting for the infusion “cocktail ” of saline mixed with vitamins and minerals, I had a chance to ask the nurse practitioner why this keeps happening. I get a bag of fluid with each treatment, and I just had treatment last Thursday. She said it is hard to pinpoint the exact reason. It could have been something I ate, a delayed reaction to treatment, a 24 hr bug, any number of things.
Moving Forward on the Colon Cancer Journey
So that’s where I am — holding steady, finding humor where I can, leaning on the people who lift me up, and drinking more water than I ever thought possible.
Thank you for walking with me through every chapter, even the quieter ones. Sometimes the soft seasons are the ones that teach us the most.
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*I share these updates from my own experience and faith, not from medical expertise. My journey is just one story, and every person’s path is different. Please lean on your own doctors and care team for guidance that’s right for you.
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