Chemo #5: This is the hard part
- Kelley Newman
- Aug 11, 2025
- 3 min read
The past two weeks have been some of Phillip’s hardest yet. However, still riding the effects of post-infusion steroids, he managed to play 27 holes of golf in just two days after chemo, which was impressive. But that feat of strength resulted in an epic crash this past week. Phillip's complexion was ashen, he had bags under his eyes that cucumbers couldn't help and definitely did not have any pep in his step. For those of you who know Phillip, you know he cannot be slowed down. I am glad he is listening to his body, and I am reminding myself that rest is good for him, but it also is a lonely reminder of where we are.
This is hard news to share, and it was only a matter of time for it to happen: Phillip has officially re-watched all of his favorite tv shows. I caught him the other day drifting off to Ratatouille, and later in the week, he had started the reality series Below Deck. His streaming choices have become questionable but I am assuming he is binging Below Deck to take note for when we retire on a yacht someday.
As Phillip continues to be silently judged by streaming platforms asking, “Are you still there?” and “Keep watching,?” I’ve been immersing myself in the colon cancer community by joining Colontown. It’s a highly exclusive club that no one actually wants to join, and while there are a few hoops to jump through before you’re “accepted,” the payoff is worth it. The resources are solid, the message boards are active, and the reassurance of connecting with people who truly get it calms me.
The Colontown community raised questions in his treatment plan, which prompted me to further explore options. As a result, I reached back out to his Mayo oncologist asking for surgical oncologist referrals. But all my wishful thinking only brought back the same reality as our July visit. Phillip cannot be referred right now due to the heavy burden of disease. Perhaps its denial, tenacity or a maternal instinct...but I will always fight for my family. This resulted in further phone calls to the Mayo, which only brought me to the roadblocks of the Oncology team once again. So what did I do? I researched the doctors I wanted to talk to and found their email addresses and messaged them directly. I explained our story and our family and politely asked for the surgeon to review Phillip's case. To my surprise, the doctor replied within 24 hours. I knew I was holding onto wishful thinking, but I placed a lot of hope in that message and when the doctor gave me the same answer I’d already heard before, I cracked.
The last two weeks have been challenging for both of us. Phillip constantly reminds me to have patience in the process. There is not a quick fix here. Through tears I told him, "But I just need hope" and his response was, "Kelley, I am your hope. Look at me. I am your hope, you do not need anything else." His words hit deep, because he’s right. He has always been the calm to my storm, and even now, in the middle of this hurricane, he still is.

We went to Chemo # 5 today. There were no surprises and it just feels as though we are in the thick of it. The compounded effects of the chemo are taking its toll on Phillip and he spent most of today's infusions in a slumber. I wish I had something funny to add here but, candidly, I am feeling emotionally exhausted and this is all feeling harder to make light of.
As we lead into the end of a summer dictated by a chemo schedule, I continue to try to look forward to brighter days ahead. Yes, we have laughed, loved and made some great core memories, but there has also been a lot of fear, tension, learning, and sadness. I never saw this on our life bingo card, but maybe that's the point and what makes life feel so achingly real right now.
I am leaving tomorrow for a trip to Paris and London with my closest girlfriends. This has been a trip planned for nearly a year and it brings me so much anxiety to leave. But I know this will be a week of quiet for Phillip, with lots of rest, and I truly hope he finds a new show to watch while I am away.
Au revoir.



My heart and eyes weep for you, your family and friends. Thank you for sharing an update as we are thinking of you and family everyday. The journey through cancer that touch so many families to me just seem so terribly unfair. Please remember that many send prayers for healing and strength.
Carol Schutz
Kel, hang in there. My prayers are with both of you. As hard as it is to leave Phillip, try to enjoy yourself in Paris and London. Your friends will be a help.
Je t’aime. Sous courageux. 🙏🏼❤️
Phillip is our hope too and we continue to wrap you both in love and prayers. ❤️🥰 love you both!!
Dean and Alice
Kelley, I wish I could wrap my arms around you and tell you this is a bad dream. You have shared your family’s journey so candidly and bravely and it’s ok to show vulnerability. Continued prayers for strength and courage to face each day with renewed hope in God.
Kelley, Thanks for the raw and honest update! We are walking with you in love, prayer and hope in God in the midst of this storm. We love you more than you will ever know! Bennett & Bonnie