Because Cancer Doesn't Get the Vacation

As I write this, we’re driving home from a weeklong camping trip that Phillip had planned months ago. As some of you know, Phillip has a deep love for exploring, especially when it involves camping and checking off another National Park. And, as some of you know, I am not outdoorsy; but, Phillip has made every effort to create a "glamping" environment so we can explore together. Over the past few summers, our adventures have taken us to Yellowstone, Glacier, and the Black Hills. This year, the journey led us to the Great Smoky Mountains.

Given that Phillip’s first chemo treatment was four days before our scheduled vacation I had some hesitation about embarking on a road trip with 5+ hour driving days and a jam-packed itinerary only a spreadsheet could love. True to form, Phillip had meticulously mapped out the Smokies adventure months in advance, complete with scenic stops and tightly scheduled campground check-ins. My sister and her family were planning to join us too, but after the diagnosis, she and I started tossing around backup plans that didn’t involve crossing state lines or time zones. With this being Phillip’s first round of chemo, we had no clue how his body would respond to the pharmaceutical “cocktail." Chemo Education Day taught us you could expect a wide variety of side-effects, and of course, every person handles chemo differently.

All things considered, Phillip’s first chemo treatment on Monday, June 2nd, went surprisingly okay, as okay as getting pumped full of cancer-fighting chemicals can go. The nurses at MN Oncology were fantastic, giving a play-by-play of each infusion bag like it was a sommelier’s wine tasting: “This one may cause fatigue, with subtle notes of tingling.” But when the Oxaliplatin, a platinum-based drug that sounds like it belongs in a Marvel movie, started flowing, it only took about twenty minutes before Phillip needed a break. Cue the anti-nausea medicine, which thankfully did the trick and got him back on track. Platinum may be precious, but his stomach clearly wasn’t impressed.

Tuesday, June 3rd, was a day of naps for Phillip, and rightfully so. His chemo pump was infusing his body and exhaustion was in full-force. By Wednesday, he finally emerged from his chemo-induced hibernation looking a bit more like himself, refreshed-ish and still fully committed to the idea of vacation. After some back and forth, we made the decision to still go on this trip - we all have one wild and crazy life... let's make some memories.  Phillip was committed to listening to his body and doing as his oncologist suggested, "Have an escape route because when fatigue sets in, it will be fast and furious." On Wednesday afternoon, we had an appointment with MN Oncology to have his chemo pump removed, where the nurses cheerfully sent us off with a “Enjoy your vacation!

This trip was a testament to Phillip's determination and I am just in awe of him. We safely made it to our planned stops and soaked in the beauty of four national parks, scenic drives and interesting experiences. There were moments where exhaustion would set in and Phillip would know his limits and tap out for the day. It was in those moments where my anxiety would set in, hundreds of miles away from home and his doctors, my mind would jump to the worst-case-scenario. Touring Mammoth Cave felt like the longest hour of my life, knowing Phillip was alone at the campsite, while I was deep underground with no cell service, cut off by layers of limestone. Every step through the cave echoed with worry, my mind running wild with every what-if. His absence was felt at Dollywood, as the boys sought out all the thrills and us girls immersed ourselves into souvenir shops and all things Dolly Parton. Meanwhile, Phillip was living his best, most relaxed life back at the KOA. He discovered the lazy river and fully committed to it, especially after snagging a deluxe inflatable from Walmart, which he floated around in like royalty. Chemo recovery, but make it poolside.

There were ups and downs on this trip, a new layer of stress quietly lingered over us, one we couldn't shake, even hundreds of miles from home. Still, the moments we were all together were genuinely beautiful. At times, the weight of what we're facing lifted, if only briefly, replaced by a comforting illusion of normalcy. There were quiet tears but also plenty of smiles, laughs, and joy. Somehow, amidst the uncertainty, those little pockets of peace felt even more sacred.

Phillip’s second round of chemo is this coming Monday, and this time, we’re not walking in blind, we’re walking in with one round under our belt and a strategy in place. We have a better sense of what to expect, what meds to call in early, and when to schedule the naps. It’s still chemo, but now we’re coming at it with a bit more grit, a bit more grace, and the confidence that comes from surviving both Oxaliplatin and a week of camping. Let’s go, Round Two—we’re ready for you.