It feels like time for another update, and as always, I’ve gone back and forth on exactly what I want to say.

Every two weeks of treatment has definitely taken its toll, but I am still fighting and trying to live my life intentionally. I am lucky that besides being exhausted everyday I am still able to do most things that I want to do with some moderation. The good news is, for reasons no one can quite explain, my hair has not fallen out like I anticipated. I’m going to give my prayer warriors credit for that one (Sister Mary Monica and Sister Mary Martha, the names have been changed for entertainment 😉).

If you haven’t watched Shrinking on Apple TV, it’s worth at least a trial membership—lol.  We all can relate on many different levels and we can all use a good laugh.

On the show Harrison Ford’s character has Parkinson’s, and he starts many conversations this season with “F@ck Parkinson’s.” So Dave and I have turned that into “F@ck Cancer,” because some days… that’s really the best we’ve got.

I recently had another scan, and the results are a mix of good news and hard-to-process emotions. The good news is that things are moving in the right direction. The tumors in my lungs have decreased, and my CEA number has dropped from 13 to 6. That is a significant improvement—and not something I take lightly. There was a time not long ago when I was celebrating it coming down to 18, so I do recognize how far that number has come.

And yet, if I’m being completely honest, there’s also some frustration sitting alongside that gratitude.

I think part of me was hoping for more. After surgery, when my CEA dropped all the way down to 1.8, I held onto that number. It felt like a glimpse of where I wanted to be again. So while 6 is good, really good, it’s hard not to compare it to that place I’ve already been.

This road continues to be one of tension. Holding both hope and reality at the same time. Celebrating progress while still longing for more.

The plan moving forward is to continue with the next six treatments of this stronger drug and then repeat scans on May 28. So for now, we keep going, one treatment at a time, one day at a time.

I am grateful. I truly am. Grateful for progress, for treatment that is working, and for the continued prayers and support that carry us through this. There was no guarantee that this drug would even work. I hope and pray that it continues and keeps options available. New research and options are always something to look forward too.

But I also want to be real about the fact that this is still hard. There are moments of encouragement, and there are moments where I have to fight to keep my perspective anchored in truth and faith and not in fear or disappointment. I am still doing a lot of alternative treatments and feel very blessed to have that opportunity, knowing so many others do not. It is not fair to so many that this is not available to everyone and unfortunate that medical insurance covers none of it. Research and studies are so very slow when it comes to fighting cancer. At times, it feels a bit like playing a game of craps with your life… and I just keep praying it works enough for me to continue giving you these updates.

Thank you for continuing to walk this road with me. Your prayers, messages, and encouragement mean more than I can fully put into words. That is the driving reason that I continue to do this blog. I know so many of you are going through hard things too, and it’s a reminder that we never truly know what someone else is carrying.

We’re not at the finish line yet but we are still moving forward. Right now, that’s enough. Stability is good. 

I know in past posts I’ve tried to reflect in a way that gives something back to you. Today, that motivation has escaped me a bit. As I enter into my self inflicted chemo break, Dave and I are going to sneak away for a few days—to escape reality, snow, and sickness.

So instead, I’ll just say this: in this messed up world we’re living in, choose kindness. It costs nothing, and it’s good for all of our souls. Words matter even to strangers.

Peace, love, and gratitude,
Michelle