The Finish Line

It’s been a while since my last update—mostly because I haven’t had anything too notable to share. Given how this whole lymphoma journey started, I’d say that’s a good thing.

I was admitted for my sixth and final chemotherapy cycle on Thursday, June 19th, and I’ll be heading home tonight, Monday, June 23rd.

After cycle two, I began experiencing neuropathy—numbness in my fingertips and colon (a polite way to say I was constipated). I brought it up several times, and eventually, my oncologist removed that particular drug from my regimen for cycles four and five since it wasn’t essential. For this final round, it was reintroduced. I’m hopeful that if neuropathy returns, it will be mild and short-lived.

One thing about Western medicine: if one drug causes a side effect, there’s a whole stack of others to deal with that new issue. In the hospital, I was offered Miralax and senna for constipation—but honestly, they didn’t do much. At home, I started taking daily olive oil shots with lemon and cayenne to encourage gut motility and lubricate my digestive tract. As a bonus, high-quality olive oil contains hydroxytyrosol, a powerful antioxidant that’s shown promise in promoting cancer cell death. In the evenings, I added Traditional Medicinals Smooth Move tea—gentle enough for sleep thanks to the chamomile. That natural combo has worked far better for me.

Another update: I was bumped up to Level 4 of my R-EPOCH chemo protocol because I’ve been responding so well. The goal with this stronger dose is to knock out any lingering disease once and for all.

I’ll get a clearer picture of where things stand after my next PET scan in early August. My type of lymphoma is inflammatory, which means we need to wait for everything to settle before getting an accurate read. I’m hopeful for no evidence of disease (NED). Still, my oncologist explained that residual scar tissue may light up on scans for years—even decades. That doesn’t necessarily mean active disease; it just means my body remembers what it’s been through.

While it will feel like being in limbo as I wait for that scan, I’ve given myself over to this process. I trust my medical team as much as I trust my body. Healing feels like the only option. I already feel so much healthier than I did four months ago—I almost forget that I’m “sick,” though my bald reflection and low stamina tend to remind me.

Outside of twice-weekly lab appointments, I’m mostly just... existing. And not in a bad way. While I feel good overall, my energy is still low. I cook, eat, clean a little, work a little, and in between, I rest. Sometimes I scroll or watch TV, but often I sit outside—reading, writing, thinking, listening, napping, doing Pilates, or tending to the garden.

My morning mat practice

It’s a big shift from how I used to live. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was rushing, hustling, pushing, and stressing. A couple of months before I got really sick, I remember telling a friend,

“Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to just be and take care of my body…”

Well, aren’t I lucky I got to find out?

And I mean that—with equal parts humor and seriousness. I wasn’t unhappy before, but I wasn’t fully in my own lane either. This experience rerouted me back to my truth. I can see now how much I let other people’s perceived expectations shape my work and schedule—both in real life and through what I saw online.

As I start easing back into my passion projects, I’m doing it differently. Authentically. Passionately. On my own terms. Life will speed up again—but this time, I’ll know my limits.

As strange as it sounds, I’m grateful for this experience. I’ll never be the same person, and I think that’s a good thing.

A few months ago, when my hair had just fallen out and my muscles had atrophied, I looked in the mirror and thought,

“I can’t wait to get back to normal.”

But as soon as I had the thought, I realized how absurd it was. There’s no going back to what “normal” was. That version of life no longer fits.

Now, I get to craft a new normal—one that feels more aligned with how I want to live. Before, I tried to fit life around work. Now I know: I need to fit work around life.

I want to savor things—cooking delicious meals, caring for our home, spending time with Jordan (who has been absolutely amazing through all of this), loving our dogs, exploring nature, being a Pilates student, being a Pilates teacher, and doing all the little things that make up a full, present life.

Sunset view from my hospital room, cycle 5