Future treatment and is this one working?

Next week feels like a significant one for me.

On Monday, I'll have a PET scan that I've been anxiously awaiting. This scan will give us a much clearer picture of what my cancer is doing and help determine the next steps in my treatment journey.

There are certainly reasons for concern. Since starting my new treatment on June 11, my tumor markers have continued to rise, and my liver enzymes have steadily increased as well. We had hoped these changes might simply be a temporary effect of chemotherapy, but because they continue to trend upward, that seems less likely.

Even so, I'm holding on to hope.

Cancer has taught me that numbers and lab results tell only part of the story. Sometimes they point to progression, and sometimes they don't. Until we have the PET scan results, we simply don't know. I'm praying that this treatment is doing more than the bloodwork suggests and that we'll see stability—or even shrinkage—on the scan. That would be an incredible answer to prayer.

If the scan shows progression instead, my oncologist and I will need to carefully consider what comes next. The treatment options available to me are becoming more limited, but I refuse to believe that limited options mean no options. Medicine is constantly advancing, and I serve a God who is not limited by statistics, timelines, or expectations. I don't know what the next chapter will look like, but I know I won't walk through it alone.

When I last spoke with MD Anderson in May, there weren't any clinical trials available for my particular situation. The chemotherapy they recommended also doesn't cross the blood-brain barrier, which is an important consideration since I've had brain metastases and leptomeningeal disease (LMD). Ideally, I need a treatment that can continue protecting both my brain and the rest of my body. I recently reached out to MD Anderson again, and they've asked me to send my PET scan results as soon as I receive them so they can reassess whether any new options or clinical trials might now be available.

In the meantime, I'm continuing to look for every possible avenue. I've contacted a local physician who performs a procedure called histotripsy. Histotripsy is a non-invasive, FDA-approved treatment that uses focused ultrasound waves to destroy liver tumors. Instead of surgery, radiation, or heat, it uses microscopic bubbles that rapidly expand and collapse, mechanically breaking apart the tumor tissue. I have an appointment with the doctor who performs this procedure next week as well.

I have no idea whether I'll even be a candidate. That depends on how extensive the cancer is throughout my liver and whether the tumors can be effectively targeted. But I've learned that hope often begins with simply asking the question, "What if?" If there's even a chance this could help, it's worth exploring.

Right now, my greatest desire is to get the cancer in my liver under control. My last PET scan also showed progression in my bones, so this next scan will be especially important in helping us understand where things stand.

As I head into this week, I'm choosing faith over fear. That doesn't mean I don't have moments of worry—I certainly do—but I've seen God's faithfulness too many times to lose hope now. No matter what Monday's scan reveals, I know He is already there. He has walked with me through every difficult appointment, every treatment, every setback, and every victory, and I trust He will continue to lead me one step at a time.

I would be so grateful for your prayers this week—for peace as we wait, wisdom for my medical team, clarity in the decisions ahead, and, most of all, that this scan will bring encouraging news. Thank you for continuing to walk this journey with me. Your prayers, messages, and support have carried me more than you'll ever know.

In the meantime, here are a couple of photos from a much-needed get-away that Drew and I were grateful to go on while our kids were away on a mission trip in Alaska a couple of weeks ago. The weather was amazing in Monterey, CA. 

I was wearing three layers on my upper body while there, and it felt amazing!

One year anniversary of seizures--update

Happy July, everyone! ☀️

Exactly one year ago, on July 1st, a perfectly normal summer day turned our lives upside down. My brother Jeremy and his family were visiting, and we were having the best time—playing mini-golf, eating good food, and just hanging out. Around 4:30 PM, we all headed to the local water park to catch their after-5 PM discount. Drew was back home working, but I was there with my kids, my brother, and his family, having a blast.

Then, out of nowhere, things took a terrifying turn.

My left foot started moving uncontrollably, swirling around. Fearing the worst, I sat on the ground. Suddenly, I lost the ability to speak. Feeling like I was about to die, I tried to mouth the word "help" to a woman staring at me from across the way. None of my family was right next to me at that moment.

My very next memory is being wheeled out on a stretcher. I remember looking up and seeing my kids crying as the paramedics wheeled me past them. I had suffered a full-blown seizure right there in front of everyone. Having never had a seizure before, it was the scariest moment of my life.

At the hospital, the nightmare continued. I felt a second seizure coming on, and this time, Drew was by my side to witness it—which was incredibly traumatizing for both of us. After extensive testing, we got the devastating news: my cancer had not only metastasized to my brain, but specifically to the leptomeningeal area (where spinal fluid circulates). Along with my metastatic breast cancer, I now had a new diagnosis: Leptomeningeal Disease (LMD). It was heartbreaking, especially knowing how difficult the prognosis typically is.

Which brings me to today. To be standing here, one year later, is a huge PRAISE! 🙌

I just had a new brain MRI on June 30th and met with my amazing neuro-oncologist. He seemed pleased with the results. While there are still tiny bits of cancer in the leptomeningeal space and a bit on my cerebellum, the disease is stable and not growing. Even better, the new drug I’m on is known to successfully cross the blood-brain barrier. The previous drug, Enhertu, did a good job on the brain metastases, but unfortunately the liver tumors and a couple of the bone lesions progressed. He told Drew and I today that he is really hoping for all the cancer in my brain to clear up. It is so nice to have such a positive physician who believes I can heal there!

To backtrack a little bit to earlier this week: on Monday, I officially started cycle 3 of Trodelvy.

Going into the appointment, we really weren't sure what my oncologist would decide to do, especially since my tumor markers and liver enzymes have been on the rise since starting this new drug. But when she walked into the exam room, her first question was simply, "How are you feeling?"

Since our last visit, she had bumped my dosage up from a 50% dose to a 75% dose. I was happy to tell her, "I'm actually feeling surprisingly good, all things considered!" While chemo always brings a whole slew of side effects, it’s nothing I can’t handle right now.

When we looked at the lab results, it was a bit of a mixed bag and tricky to interpret. On one hand, my tumor markers are still increasing, and my liver enzymes remain high (though they do fluctuate). On the other hand, my circulating tumor cells actually seem to be going down. We really are hoping my tumor markers come down. Right now the biggest concern is the cancer in my liver.

Because my body is handling the higher dose relatively well—thanks to bone marrow stimulating injections that keep my white blood cell counts from dropping too low—we decided to move forward with another treatment cycle. The real answers will come at the end of the month, when I have a PET scan that will give us a much clearer picture of how well this treatment is working on the areas other than my brain.

My brother Jeremy and his family just headed home yesterday after another wonderful visit., one year later. This time around, there were no seizures, no ambulances, and absolutely no traumatic events—just pure quality time. It was such a gift to have a visit that wasn't overshadowed or tainted by my health issues. Even though I had to slip away for a few medical appointments while they were here, it comforted my heart to know that Luke and Abbey were having the absolute best time making memories and hanging out with their cousins.

Top Golf

Backyard basketball

God is good, and I am so grateful for another year, stable MRI of the brain, and all of you. Thank you for walking this journey with me! Now, let's pray this treatment starts working on my bones and liver!