Steve and I have been trying to write what we hope is our last entry on this site for a while and up and till now Steve has been the one to take on the responsibility for keeping everyone updated.  I decided it was probably time for me to write this last one myself.  

I will cut to the chase quickly for any of you who haven’t already heard the wonderful news that I had a completely clear PET scan on Aug 3rd and am in full remission! 

I realize you haven’t heard from us for a couple of months – so I will catch you up a bit.

We had two glorious weeks after Gabriel was born before I had to start chemo back up again.  We got to bring him home to his little sister – who greeted him with a balloon bouquet, a shy smile, and all the curiosity a toddler can hold (which is quite a lot I realize as I’m writing this).   We celebrated Mother’s Day by going back to church as a family for the first time in person since Christmas.  We took Gabriel on several adventures to the Morton Arboretum, to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants in Oak Park, to the garden shop to buy all the plants we wanted to fill up the backyard for summer.   I had just had major surgery, but I felt the best I had in months!

Then we had to go back to the hospital.  Time to face four more infusions of chemotherapy.  Time to breastfeed Gabriel for the last time.  Time to finally lose all my hair (pregnancy hormones really kept it hanging in there for a while).  Time to finish the race.

My oncologist added a new drug for my final doses that I couldn’t take while I was pregnant.  It targets Hodgkins cells specifically and I am fortunate to have been able to get on it as it is so new.  All of the data on patients who have been able to take Brentuximab Vedotin is very encouraging and it will reduce the likelihood that my lymphoma will return.  The additional side effects were not easy to tolerate but we were fortunate to have our parents taking turns staying with us so that we had help around the clock.  Knowing Gabe was safe and out of the battle was a deep comfort. 

I had my last chemo infusion on July 6th and got to ring a big bell to signify “when the job was done” (apparently adopted first at MD Anderson after an admiral completed radiation therapy and wanted to follow a Navy tradition of ringing a bell to signify a job done).  I was happy to mark what was hopefully my last time being hooked up to bags of medicine that make you feel so sick and yet are supposed to heal you at the same time, but it also felt anticlimactic.  As any cancer patient knows – chemo isn’t really done until after the 10 days of feeling sick after each infusion.  I also didn’t feel free.  I still had to wait for my PET scan. 

Waiting…something we were all too familiar with now.  This was the hardest wait – mostly because after completing 6 rounds of chemo (12 total infusions) – I didn’t feel like I had anything left to give.  The thought of maybe not being done was enough to unravel me.  I tried not to think about it very much. Watching Gabriel grow and thrive and come more alive each day was a wonderful distraction.  Seeing the trees and flowers bloom in our backyard and the sun begin to shine longer each day invited me to hope. 

August 3rd was a beautiful day and Steve and I were able to walk around the University of Chicago campus after my scan while waiting to meet with my oncologist to get the results.  Steve was working at the University of Chicago when we started dating so it was fun to reminisce about that season of our lives.  We had a picnic lunch and then visited our favorite coffee shop.  We had many people praying peace over us, and we felt it.  The waiting ended up being easier to bear than I had imagined.  Truly “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness” (Lamentations 3:22-23) God gave us his daily bread – as he had throughout this entire journey. 

What an incredible relief to hear the words come out of my doctor’s mouth, “your scan was completely clear”.  She walked us through some of the imaging they took prior to and during treatment and it was amazing to see the mass in my chest completely disappear.  Praise God!  He is mighty to save.    

We got to celebrate the good news by calling all our close family and friends on the way home from the hospital and then drinking some very expensive champagne with the family that was able to join us that evening.  Steve and I left the next day for a night away to celebrate our 5th wedding anniversary.  My dad was a hero and watched both kids for 48 hours so we could get away – there are no pictures of this for obvious reasons 😊 – I don’t think he was even able to use the bathroom alone for two days. 

We have started the long slow exhale.  There is a relief that washes over you so immediately and forcefully when you hear the news that you are in remission, but we have realized that it will take a while for it to fully sink in.  We have been on this journey for over a year and so it has been quite a while since life has felt anywhere near normal to us.  We celebrate all the positive milestones: MJ returning to school, attending church in person, having friends over for dinner, getting Gabe started in daycare, returning to work myself this week – and for the first time in person in 9 months!   We are slowly finding new rhythms, new routines, building new scaffolding to sustain us in this next season.  We are so eager to be thriving, and in some moments we are, but mostly we are still tired and learning to process all that our family has weathered over the past year. 

Some people have told me I am a champion, others that I am stronger than I thought.  We had a sign hanging up for a while after the news that said “I kicked Cancer’s butt”.  I actually feel like it kicked mine pretty hard.  I don’t feel braver or stronger or like I did anything special.  I feel like a whole army of family, friends, and the prayers of people I may never meet carried me to where I am today.  God made a way and the body of Christ surrounded us with the strength we didn’t have to walk this road.  “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”  (2 Cor. 12:9)

I have often listened to and sung this song over the past year which captures my feelings about this so well: 

Red Sea Road

It takes courage to enter this new season fully, to believe it’s really over and to take off all the armor we were wearing.  One thing you definitely feel after having cancer is vulnerable.  I am grateful for the way the suffering shaped me, but I also don’t want any more laps around that track.  I am not sure what to do with the knowledge – the real first hand knowledge - that God doesn’t spare us sickness – or that some peoples stories don’t end the same way mine has.  I am reminded of the quote from the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe where Susan is asking the Beavers about Aslan.

“Aslan is a lion – the Lion, the great Lion.” “Ooh” said Susan.  “I’d thought he was a man.  Is he – quite safe?  I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion”… “Safe?” said Mr. Beaver… “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe.  But he’s good.  He’s the King, I tell you.”

God didn’t spare me cancer and that feels pretty scary.  He doesn’t promise me that it won’t come back.  I will see my oncologist for regular check-ups and scans for the next 5 years before I am completely released from care.  It doesn’t feel safe.  But I have to trust in the goodness of God.  When I have feared what it means to really follow Jesus, I have often thought of the words of Peter the apostle, “Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words of eternal life.  We believe and know that You are the Holy One of God”.  (John 6:68-69)  He’s the King, I tell you.

I was sharing with a friend recently that I often wondered if my faith came more easily to me because I hadn’t really been through anything “hard” in life.  Would my faith be strengthened or weakened by the kinds of trials we all fear?  My faith is stronger today – after the hardest (by a super duper long shot – and let’s hope it stays that way) year of my life – and not because I spent hours pouring over scriptures or in deep prayer.  I wish that had been the case – but I honestly didn’t have the strength for it.  But because I can look back on the last year and see Jesus walking with us, sustaining us, giving us the strength for every weary step.  I could not have done it – so it must have been God.  What a mercy. 

“To them God chose to make known how great among the Gentiles are the riches of the glory of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.” (Colossians 1:27)

We often sing this song at church and it has become an anthem for this season, for my life:

Yet Not I but through Christ in Me  

The words “thank you” have never felt more inadequate to communicate our appreciation for all the prayers and the tangible acts of love and support from our family and friends.  We are so deeply grateful.  Thank you for walking this red sea road with us.  Thank you for being the body of Christ.  We look forward to celebrating in ways big and small with all of you.

All our love,

Holly, Steve, Mary-Jo, and Gabriel