Stable

Phillip had his scan on Friday, December 5th and the results were posted the same day - thank goodness we did not have to go into the waiting game over the weekend. While I am trying not to analyze every word or "finding" on the radiologist's report, this scan came back indicating everything is stable.

(As a side note, there's a notable gap in patient care, particularly in reviewing and comparing imaging over time. However, I'll save that discussion for the next person who buys me a drink).

Stability is excellent news in a cancer context, particularly for Phillip, since the heavy-hitting chemotherapy drugs have been removed from the treatment regimen for the past few cycles. It is positive news and we will take all the glimmers of positivity throughout this journey!

We had a great meeting with Dr. Tatineni today and it helped me feel more anchored from my spiral after last cycle's appointment. Since last appointment and after receiving the scan results, my grief has been wild and raw. I am so lucky to have Phillip and that he can manage my pinball emotions everyday. Whether its walking in the door in sobs just needing a hug or screaming "F*****" outside at the top of my lungs from goat head butts, he defuses my internal rollercoasters. This past week, he recognized my need for more information and encouraged me to make a list of questions to send to Dr. Tatineni ahead of today's appointment. This was brilliant and it allowed me to focus my energy toward my questions so we could better understand maintenance mode and what lies ahead.

Today we learned scans will happen again in three months to see if there has been any progression. I'm hopeful healthier eating, positive mindsets, and magical mushrooms will keep everything in hibernation for the rest of winter.

We also discussed the possibility of additional interventions. The chemo has caused calcification of tumors, which means tumor death. (Take that, Cancer). The calcified tumors are squatters on his liver and are taking up valuable real estate and could be removed to make room for healthy tissue growth. It was an encouraging development when Dr. Tatineni suggested the Mayo re-evaluate Phillip's case for surgical intervention. We are now on standby for this subsequent referral to the Mayo; however, we've learned our lesson from our July appointment and are remaining cautiously optimistic. Cancer is a strategy game and hopefully the Mayo surgeons recognize this may be the optimal time for a surgical attack.

We walked away from today's appointment feeling aligned and with an understanding of what the next few months will entail. As cancer newbies, this next plan makes sense. We look forward to calmness amidst the unknown and some precious time as a family to feel normal again.

That said, even as we enter maintenance mode, Phillip still battles significant fatigue. My hope is that this phase will truly allow him the space to recover over the coming months and rebuild his strength and be more present for the moments that matter most.

I think about what maintenance mode means for Lenie. She hasn't displayed obvious signs of missing her Daddy during the harder days, but I've noticed something, when Phillip has the energy to be fully present again, there's a sparkle that lights up in her. Their relationship is something I have always treasured witnessing. Before the diagnosis, Phillip once came home from a grocery trip with Lenie and shared that a stranger had stopped them to say, "Your daughter is so lucky to have you. I can tell you're such a great Dad." And since his diagnosis, Phillip has done his best to be that same Dad to Lenie and its still so beautiful to see.

Before Diagnosis Day, I genuinely believed parenting with a hangover was the hardest thing. Wow, I was so wrong. Parenting through Phillip's diagnosis is a different universe of hard. I've learned things I never wanted to know, like how to cry silently from only one eye while lying beside Lenie at bedtime, so she drifts off to sleep believing everything is okay. Lenie asks questions about the size of Daddy's cancer and we try to explain, knowing this all will just bolster her compassionate soul.

Hard things change you...there's no denying the transformation in us since May. Phillip has become this quiet, strong presence, a new version of him that I love. The person who once needed to be the center of attention has stepped back and learned to simply be present. The emotion in his hugs reverberates through me with an energy I've never felt before. Instead of opening a bottle of wine on Saturday nights, we cozy up with tea together. As a girl who gets uncomfortable in silence, I'm learning to love the quiet moments between us and the realness it has brought to our life together.

For me, (when my emotions are level-set), there is a peace in this hard love as I quietly whisper for karma to stop. I have envy for everyone I see but also wonder if they know how fragile life truly is. I am exhausted, but trying to wear all the hats, even though there are some that I know Phillip will always wear best. My relationship with Phillip has never been stronger. He manages my crazy, but also maintains so much grace as we navigate this unknown together. Lenie is resilient, aware and kind. I know her soul is what will keep me tethered.

As we enter the holidays, I hope you all love and hug harder.

Kelley