August 30, 2021 “There are no random acts. We are all connected. You can no more separate one life from another than you can separate a breeze from the wind.” This quote comes from one of my most beloved books, The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom, and I feel like it perfectly sets the tone for the story I’m about to tell you. And yes, I call it a “story” because some of it might seem like a crazy work of fiction. But make no mistake – I believe God wove two seemingly random souls together long before they ever met on this Earth, with some very specific blessings in mind. Now every good story has a beginning, middle and end – so let’s start at the beginning. I was diagnosed at the end of April 2021 – and it was during that devastating call I learned that my primary care physician had the misfortune of having to share a breast cancer diagnosis with another young woman under 40 on the very same day. Once I had some time to process my situation, to sit in those emotions and in that pain, I found myself wondering and worrying about this other woman. Who was she? Did she live nearby? How old was she? What plans had she made for herself this year? Did she have a strong support system? Was she scared? Does she know Jesus? I was wrestling with all of these unknowns and as much as my heart was aching for my own struggles, I couldn’t get past the thought that somewhere out there was another woman who at this very moment was going through the exact same pain and heartache as me, and I needed to know that she was resolved to fight like hell right alongside me. So I prayed. I prayed for this mystery woman and I begged God to make her feel supported and never alone in this fight. Because even if I didn’t know her, I knew about her and I was going to pray for her every step of this parallel path we were on. Time passed, I learned more about my diagnosis and what it meant for treatment. I sat in the Cancer Center during a marathon of visits with what would be my care team of doctors and found myself wondering if that woman was on the other side of the wall, waiting for my oncologist to walk over and talk her through her prognosis. Tests and imaging were scheduled and conducted, and I dove head first into quick start fertility preservation, pushing back my cancer treatment by a few weeks, but doing everything I could to hopefully ensure the growth of our little family in the future. Eventually day-1 of chemo came, June 1st, and I stepped into the scariest, most uncertain phase of this battle. Chemo round 1, nausea, fatigue, tears, prayers, chemo round 2, nausea, fatigue, insomnia, hair loss, shaving my head, prayers, tears, exhaustion. So many battles, so many milestones. Cancer never takes a day off, and neither could I. Each experience during my fight with cancer has revealed to me the goodness of my Lord Jesus – His faithfulness, His graciousness. He is a waymaker and continued to show me the way through this valley, every hardship brought so much light into my life. So many people were showing up for me and my family in ridiculous ways, loving us fiercely and lifting us up in endless prayers. I felt so unworthy of this love, so honored and yet so confused as to why God had chosen me to witness these miraculous acts of service and love. But He was just getting started. Wednesday, June 23, 2:19 p.m. – my friend Audra reached out via txt – she had been walking with me through the initial stages of this diagnosis and her generosity and kindness had been such a blessing to my family. Her message was lengthy, as I read the first words she had written, tears started streaming down my face. “Hey Cassie! I just got off a call with my friend Sarah (she was in our virtual advent small group last year if you remember her) and wanted to let you know that she is also in her thirties, attends Eastview, and was diagnosed with breast cancer on the exact same day you were.” I sat on my bed reading these words and I swear to you that the Lord was sitting right next to me, filling the room with a higher power, a greater purpose. Here she was, the mystery woman. This was her name I was holding in my hands. This is the person I have been praying for. She goes to my church. She might want to meet me, to know me too. This was God. There was no doubt in my mind. This entire “chance encounter” had nothing to do with chance and everything to do with predestined purpose written into our stories by the Waymaker Himself. Audra shared Sarah’s phone number with me and basically said, no pressure but thought you might want to make this connection. I responded and let her know that I had been aware of another woman under 40 that was diagnosed on the same day by my PC physician and I knew in my heart that Sarah was that woman. I told her to please also share my name and contact info with Sarah and that I would definitely be reaching out to her. And then I prayed. I sat in the shock of finally learning the name of this person that I already cared so deeply for, that I had been covering in prayer without even knowing her and yet feeling so close to her because of our shared diagnosis, and I prayed. I asked God to give me the words. To help me know what to say to Sarah. I asked Him to make me brave, to make me strong enough to wade into her struggles with her, to be part of her support system if she’d have me, and to invite her to be part of mine. You don’t really think about this until you have to, but a cancer diagnosis brings so much fear. And to protect yourself from falling victim to that fear and crawling into a deep, dark place your mind and heart put up walls to keep out the things that might trigger you. I can no longer watch hospital dramas on TV, I mute commercials about cancer medication, I had to fast forward through parts of the Bachelorette this season because one of the contestants lost his wife to breast cancer and I couldn’t handle hearing that – because I cannot allow myself to even entertain the possibility of not beating this disease and not being able to live a long and healthy life with my baby girl and husband. I didn’t join any support groups because I knew that as an empath my heart would not be able to carry the weight of their struggles and the possible harsh realities of so many of the other cancer patients in my church family. As selfish as that sounds, it’s what I’ve had to do to protect myself and stay focused on beating this thing. It has been my mental armor. However, when I learned Sarah’s name there was no wall, there was no hesitation. I knew that I was meant to join her in her fight and she in mine. I felt God working in this crazy way, bringing our circles of friends together and helping us to find one another at the exact right moment. I felt like we were going to need one another and despite the potential fear of getting too close to Sarah’s fight, personally taking on the good and the bad that she might experience, I wasn’t afraid. I was honored. And I sat there sobbing happy tears, thanking God for her name and trying to find the words to say to her. But bless her heart, she beat me to it. Less than 1-hour after Audra had reached out to me I got a text from Sarah herself. We spent those next few days and weeks messaging one another; talking about how we had always been aware of one another and praying for one another. We couldn’t get over how we both knew that this was God bringing us together, that we were meant to be part of each other’s journey. We compared experiences, discussed our interactions with our care teams – both recommended by our PC physician, both comprised of the same exact set of doctors. She told me she was almost certain that she was sitting in the room next door on the day that I was going through my marathon of meetings at the Cancer Center, just as I had suspected! We talked about how chemo was going, our experience with telling our friends and family the diagnosis, at what stage I started losing my hair and eventually had to shave it off – she told me she was quickly approaching this dreaded milestone. And then I asked her if she would be interested in getting together in person – and so we began to make plans. But it’s never really a good idea to make plans when you have cancer. First my daughter got sick and I didn’t feel like it was safe to potentially expose Sarah to those germs so we rescheduled. Then my daughter got a rash and had to stay home from daycare and go to the pediatrician and Sarah wasn’t feeling the greatest after a round of chemo so we rescheduled again. Somewhere in there, Sarah and her beautiful servant heart, brought me a devotional by Lysa Terkeurst called Seeing Beautiful Again and left it on the porch for me to find. She had said she was reading it during this season of life and it was speaking so directly to her, she wanted me to have my own copy too. Truth be told, we didn’t really even know one another, but so many things kept showing me that our souls were connected and we had known each other for much longer than we realized, God made sure of that. And finally schedules aligned, immune systems held up, and the morning came when we were going to officially meet live and in-person! I kid you not when I say it felt like Christmas Eve – the anticipation, the anxiety, the excitement – what if she doesn’t like me, what if we don’t click, what if she thinks I’m a giant weirdo (probably am)… I think we can all agree that making new friends when you’re in your 30’s is super hard for some reason. I mean c’mon, there are memes all over the internet about the awkwardness that is making new friends as an adult. I found myself laughing at how silly I was being, all worried and what not, it felt like a blind date and that was hilarious to me. But as soon as her car pulled into my driveway – of course I saw it pull in because I was sitting out on my front porch like a kid anxiously waiting on the school bus to arrive – I hustled down my front sidewalk and wrapped her in a tight embrace. I’m not certain she was even all the way out of her car (maybe a bit aggressive there, Cass – tone it down girl). But she hugged me right back, and that serendipitous feeling came rushing in and I knew this was going to be one of the greatest best friend hangs in history. She had picked up coffees for us and I had made some zucchini bread, so we grabbed all the fixin's and posted up in my front porch chairs – it was a beautiful, cool morning and we would sit there for the next 2.5hrs talking about everything under the sun. She was my soul sister and sitting there in each others’ presence, I felt like a piece of my heart had returned home and I knew that this was an everlasting kind of friendship in the making. It was rare, something this beautiful formed out of tragedy by a God who can redeem all situations, all pain and all suffering. The time came for her to go but I knew we’d see each other again soon, and we would of course be talking regularly. Sarah continues to find ways to lift me up and bring light into this difficult time, all the while fighting her own battles. She is a special soul with a heart on fire for Christ and her friendship brings me so much joy! I still think about that day on my porch – we laughed so much, we talked like lifelong friends, we connected in a way that only God could contrive. “We are all connected. You can no more separate one life from another than you can separate a breeze from the wind.” This is only just the beginning of our story. It’s still being written – with every day, every round of chemo, every win, every trial – and I know I’m biased but it’s a kickass story to be a part of. And it will have an epic ending, when we both reach remission we will honor that milestone together in what I can only imagine will be the most glorious celebration this town has ever seen! And just as swiftly as that ending comes I know our next beginning will start as we set out to richly live the next chapters of our lives. I’m sure we will continue journeying through this life together as survivors – warriors against breast cancer – souls intertwined for the purpose of serving God’s Kingdom. So that’s our story, or at least the start of it. I hope you found encouragement and joy in the miracles and blessings from our amazing God. Be praying for me and Sarah as we fight together. We thank you for your support and for coming alongside us in this battle. And thank you, Sarah, for the opportunity to share my perspective in your Detour Chapter. I am grateful to call you a dear friend and feel unworthy, but honored, to have penned the details of our “not so chance” encounter for all your loved ones to experience. *This post was originally written for and shared on Sarah's blog, The Detour Chapter. Photos of Sarah and I together, each celebrating our final days of radiation therapy. Sisters in this life, joined by a devastating reality, redeemed by a God greater than it all.

Tuesday, August 24, 2021 I went to bed last night with pain and anxiety about the surgery and woke up ready to get this thing outta me. We reported to the surgicenter at 6:00am, got all checked in, and this time when the nurse called me back I was led into one of their hospital bed bays that are divided by a curtain (instead of the private room that I had the last 2 times I was there - 1st for gallbladder removal and then for the port placement). But no sweat, I figured it just meant they had a busy day and probably a lot of more high-attention patients that needed those rooms. My nurse was very sweet and got me all settled in my hospital gown with all the fixins - i.e. those super cute (eyeroll) hospital socks with the grippers on the bottom and an equally sexy blue hair net… because, well, I’ve got a lot of hair that could become a problem in the OR. *wink* She was helping train a new-to-the-surgicenter nurse, so she took care to explain everything she was doing in great detail for her “shadow.” Then it came time to insert my IV - she asked if the training nurse wanted to do it and ultimately they decided that the trainee should watch a few before she takes the reins. I secretly breathed a sigh of relief because y’all, IV’s in your hands freakin' HURT and I want that stick done once and done right. But I forgot one important fact of life -- it’s statistically impossible to do anything right when someone is watching you over your shoulder. We all know that phenomenon, I mean I’m the world’s best driver until my husband is sitting in the passenger seat and then it’s like I’m 15 all over again and learning what it means to parallel park for the first time. eek. So yes, you guessed it - she confidently took that needle, stuck me in the top of my left hand and then proceeded to wiggle it around a bit, eventually pulling it out and admitting defeat - whilst I cringed, eyes closed tight, and held back tears of angst from the pain. They called in another nurse to check out my other hand and place the IV there. That nurse did just fine, inserted it in my right wrist and called it a day. Still hurt, not as much, but I lived. The lead anesthesiologist came to check-in with me - she was a beautiful and bright ray of sunshine and just made me feel completely at ease. We talked about how I woke up during the port placement surgery (yikes) and she assured me that she would talk with the anesthetician and that it would definitely not happen again. Then Dr. Naour popped in to say good morning, take another look at the infected area and let us know it was time to get this show on the road. A sweet older nurse, Nan (love her) - came to wheel me down to the same operating room I’ve occupied the last 2x’s. We laughed about how I should get a frequent flyer miles card for all the times I’ve been to their facility in the last year and a half. And there’s still one more to go (hello lumpectomy this fall!!) I gotta say, every single nurse in the operating room was soooo sweet. They were all kind and cheery for first thing in the morning, we laughed and joked. I climbed onto the operating table and got swaddled in surgical blankets by two elderly nurses and it was the coziest thing I’ve ever experienced - swaddles are the bomb y’all, we should take a lesson from babies and start swaddling adults. Anyway, once I was all settled the anesthetician talked with me, she asked how I reacted to the sedation after the port implant. I told her that I felt pretty good after it (I unfortunately have had a history of really bad reactions to anesthesia - nausea, migraine, etc. that lasts for hours) but I reminded her that I woke up during the last surgery. She said she’d go take a look at what that concoction had been. She came back into the room and assured me that this new “recipe” was similar to the last one, but slightly different and she began administering it. I started feeling groggy, the voices in the room started to sound very far away, like I was falling down a tunnel apart from everyone there, and without knowing, I was out. I woke up back in the recovery bay with Cory and my nurse standing near me. This time I didn’t wake up during the surgery and I didn’t wake up from the anesthesia crying. I remember my eyes feeling a bit itchy and the intense need to rub them despite what the nurses told me, but that was about it. I was still a little sleepy as I came out of the sedation, but I knew right away that this time was already much better than any prior experience I’ve had and I was so grateful. Also, aside from a little stinging in the infected area, the intense pain seemed to be much less - praise Jesus! Dr. Naour checked in on me, we talked about post-op care and next steps and then we packed up and headed home. We were back home around 9:30am and my mom met us outside to help me in the house. I was feeling tired but pretty good. I had gotten my medicine and painkillers in my system at the surgicenter and now I just needed some food and to push fluids. I spent the day resting and recovering, but by the time my mom left in the late afternoon I was feeling pretty great. All in all this was a very good day. The anesthesia didn’t mess me up. The infection will hopefully clear up quickly, and most of it was removed and drained when the port was removed. And my chemo treatment was finally rescheduled for this week Thursday so we’re not going to get too far off track with everything. I’m so thankful for all of the nurses that looked after me, and especially for Dr. Naour who worked his magic and kept me safe all throughout the process. I remember coming out of sedation, telling Cory how everyone was so nice to me and took such good care of me, and asking if we could buy lunch for everyone working there - maybe a nice assorted sandwich tray and fruit and veggie crudité - he laughed but I’m pretty sure even in my drugged up state I was completely serious. I’m putting it on the list of things to do after the lumpectomy, they’ll have earned it. And I think I’m gonna make myself a punch card too - 4 surgeries in under 2 years and you get a free coffee mug, right?

Monday, August 23, 2021 I’ve been struggling today, the past couple days really. Emotionally, physically, I’ve been struggling. I had a bit of a hard weekend... Saturday was wonderful - we celebrated my brother and future sister-in-law with a bridal shower and it was so fun. We saw family members that we hadn’t seen since long before the pandemic and I did everything in my power to soak up every minute with them because they are my people and I need them, and I fiercely missed them, and it fed my soul to be with all of them. I was so hot and sweat rolled down my neck from my wig and practically melted off my makeup all day long. But I didn’t even care, because I was with my people. And these last couple months keep reminding me how much I really need my people. But after all the fun was done and we said our 'goodbyes,' this cancer crap snapped back into focus. Saturday night my port implant started hurting. It felt like a bruise, like I had been punched in my port and it was a deep-tissue bruise. I sat in bed complaining to Cory about how much it hurt but at the same time thinking it was probably nothing. But as the night went on, I kept waking up when I’d move in my sleep from this deep, burning pain in my upper chest. In the morning, I could tell that it had gotten worse, whatever “it” was. I talked with my mom and we thought maybe it was a muscle strain from all the heavy lifting and set-up for the bridal shower the day before. However, as time passed the pain became so intense I knew that it needed to be checked out. My surgeon’s practice is closed on the weekend so I txt my oncologist and asked him if I should be concerned and needed to get it checked out. He responded quickly and said yes, I needed to go to Prompt Care and get it looked at right away. So I headed out around 11:30am to the prompt care nearby, sat in their waiting room for a little while and then was ultimately told that they wouldn’t have the resources to check me out and I needed to go over to the hospital’s ER instead. Back in the car and over to the hospital's emergency facility. By the grace of God, when I arrived there was no one in the waiting area and I got checked in right away. And would you believe the luck, but my surgeon who placed my port was the on-call surgeon for the hospital that day. After being checked out by the ER Dr. and having nurses coming in and out to run tests, draw blood cultures, etc., my surgeon stopped in, all on his own - the nurse said that never happens and seemed really amazed that he did that - either way I was grateful for the familiar face. He took one look at the port and said “yep, it’s infected” and after talking to my oncologist and confirming that I only have 2 rounds of chemo left to go, he recommended we go ahead and remove the port and I would do my last 2 rounds of chemo with an IV instead of the port. He said that an antibiotic would help but that there’s no guarantee it would clean up the infection completely and it would be best to just take it out. As scary as all of this is, as unexpected and uncertain it makes me feel, I’m trusting that my doctors are making recommendations based on my best interest and will do everything in their power to keep me safe and take the best care of me. I am praying for a smooth and successful surgery with an easy recovery - the surgery had originally been set for this morning, but was later changed to tomorrow (8/24). I’ll have to check-in at 6am and then we’ll go from there. Since the surgery is set for tomorrow, which is usually my regular chemo day, we’ll have to push chemo back in the week - hopefully not too far though. I don’t want my schedule to get too off track, we’ve got my brother's wedding to get ready for and I want to be feeling my best. I’m still waiting to hear back from my oncologist about when we’ll reschedule the 7th round of chemo. And then last night I had another nasty dose of reality. I was trying to get ready for bed and couldn’t get myself undressed because of the excruciating pain from the infected port, when I tried to raise my arm over my head I had to ask Cory to help me. I stood there with my sports bra halfway on halfway off and feeling like a complete invalid. It was embarrassing having to ask for help like that. Yes, even though he’s my husband, I was mortified and I started crying because that’s not what I want for my husband, for our marriage. We’re young and in love, we’re supposed to be doing young and in love things, not this. He’s had to do so many not-sexy things for me. He’s had to shave my head, hold me up in the shower when I was feeling too weak to stand after chemo, help me get dressed, watch me struggle with loving myself and my self image throughout this whole fight. It’s not what I would have ever wanted for our marriage. But I am so incredibly thankful that he is in this, deep in this, with me and I pray that it truly does just strengthen our marriage and our love for one another once we’re on the other side of this. A friend of mine who is also fighting breast cancer right now said it best when she said, “Thank You seems like too cheap a word to express how I’m feeling right now,” and she’s right. “Thank you” will never be enough, but it’s all I’ve got right now I guess, so I’ll never stop saying it. All that to say - I’m struggling. Cancer sucks. It really f*cking sucks. And the struggling - I think I’ve been pushing it down and pushing it away and trying to ignore it, but it’s starting to bubble up lately. It feels odd because I can sense that light at the end of the tunnel on this chemotherapy crap, but the instinct to cry and the desire to sit and wallow seems a lot more present for some reason. Maybe because I’ve been lucky and I haven’t really done that a lot throughout this whole battle. Maybe because I’ve been pushing the trauma down to be dealt with when I’ve got the ‘bandwidth’ for it… maybe because the really hard part is almost over, my body is telling me it’s time to start dealing with it. Who knows, but it’s been rearing its’ ugly head more often lately - the grief, the pity party. I’m aware that it is all waiting for me just below the surface. Everyone continues to comment on how strong I am, what grace I have dealing with all of this, the courage and bravery I’m showing as I fight this battle. Truth is, any strength I have comes from my Lord God; or from my husband or my daughter or my parents or family or friends. I’ve been fighting this for all of them, all of you, with the strength of God holding me up and driving me forward. But when it’s all said and done I’m just a human, a weak and broken human and I cry and I bleed and I hurt - and I still ache for this to be anyone else’s story but mine.

Tuesday, August 10, 2021 Everything went smoothly for this round of chemo. I checked in at 8am and this time I decided to bring my friends/family members that follow me on social, along for the treatment - virtually of course. So I posted to my Instagram/Facebook stories throughout the process. I got a lot of really awesome and supportive feedback from everyone that they really appreciated me taking them along for the journey. I also met with Dr. Migas during my treatment today to review my blood draw results and discuss any concerns/questions and next steps. He said that he was really pleased with how I’ve been moving through the treatment and that my blood counts all looked really healthy. He said after Round 7 of chemo we will connect with my surgeon to schedule my lumpectomy and get the ball rolling on those next steps. I couldn’t be more excited, let’s get past this chemo crap and I’ll be so happy! Round 2 Post-Taxol chemotherapy side effects: Wednesday (8/11) - felt good, felt normal and was able to work a pretty normal schedule. Thursday (8/12) - I woke up still feeling pretty normal, but definitely had some aches and pains as a result of the chemo. As the day went on I started feeling more and more tired. Friday (8/13) - The exhaustion is real. I'm also having a rough day, struggling with the frustrations of it all as well as just my body not feeling like itself. I’m in pain and achy and just so annoyed with it all. So I crawled into bed after working for most of the day, and threw a very decent sized pity party for myself. Aches and pains continued into the weekend, I started feeling more like my normal self around Sunday afternoon. Definitely seeing that “cumulative/compounded” impact of the chemo taking effect. I’m going to remain optimistic and hopeful that the last 2 rounds of chemo aren’t terrible, but will be prepared to give myself grace and rest as/when needed.

Thursday, July 29, 2021 I woke up a bit apprehensive, Thursdays are usually the start of my “tough days” during chemo weeks. But I felt good - I felt pretty "normal." I did not experience the typical exhaustion and nausea for most of the day. I did experience some aches in my traps, neck and shoulders - it mostly just felt like I did a really tough overhead/arms/shoulders workout, but that was about it. My mom was still here and Cory surprised me - it’s my birthday - and he took time off from work and kept Macy home for the day. He made a big breakfast for us all, and of course the beloved Mickey Mouse pancakes for this birthday girl. When Cory brought over the pancakes with the candles lit and they started singing, I felt my throat getting tight and my eyes start to water because for the second time in my 32-years I knew exactly what I was wishing for - the first time was when I turned 29 and wished with all of my heart to be a mom. And today, I wished, hoped and prayed with all of my heart once again, to be rid of this cancer, that it never comes back, and for it to never touch anyone I love, ever again. It was such a joy being able to spend the day at home with my loved ones. I worked a little bit and then took it easy for most of the day. Cory took me out for a late lunch date and Macy stayed home with my mom. In the evening, my dad and brother, John, came over and surprised me with a special birthday dinner. We ordered some tacos and spent the evening laughing at Macy being a little goofball, showing off for everyone. We finished the evening with some confetti angel food cake made by my wonderful mom. Because I was feeling so good, my mom decided to head home. She typically stays through Friday, but since the recovery from this round seems to be much better than before, it made sense for her to be back in Champaign -- because in case you haven’t heard, my older sister is very pregnant right now and we’re waiting on another little baby Barnard boy to arrive and Grammy and Grandpa need to be home to watch big brother when the time comes! Eeekkkkk!!!!! I am a very excited aunt anxiously awaiting the arrival of our newest family member.

Tuesday, July 27, 2021 Today felt like it dragged on foreverrrrr. I went into the Cancer Center at 8am and didn’t head home until about 1:30pm. It might sound like a pretty typical day for treatment, but knowing that I only had one chemo med today, I was hoping it was going to be a faster day. Turns out it takes about 3 hours for the Taxol infusion, and for whatever reason, it seemed to take even longer for me. You also have to go through the blood draw first thing in the morning to make sure my levels look good enough to take the treatment, then there’s the waiting for the pre-meds to take effect and finally the actual chemo medicine can be administered. One of my pre-meds is Benadryl, and the second it was administered I could barely keep my eyes open, so I took a bit of a snooze. I felt drowsy the rest of the day and wasn’t really up for doing much of anything, I’m guessing that was also a big reason why the day felt like it dragged on, because I wasn’t really up for doing anything to pass the time while sitting in my infusion chair. When I got home, Cory and I ate some lunch and then I went upstairs with every intention of getting caught up on work but I could barely keep my eyes open and ended up passing out for another snooze. After Macy got home from daycare we had a nice evening together, she played outside for a while and enjoyed the warm weather. And after she went down for bed Cory and I caught up on The Bachelorette and then came upstairs to fold some laundry and I felt strong enough to play a bit of catch-up and send out some work emails around 11:30pm (sorry folks). But then we turned in for the night and enjoyed some deep sleep. Round 1 Post-Taxol chemotherapy side effects: Felt so much better after my Taxol treatment than I usually do after my rounds of A&C. I was a bit achy on Thursday and felt this restless leg syndrome, discomfort in my legs and muscles at night and had a bit of a hard time sleeping, but never really experienced a big drop off in energy level or fatigue which was a huge change from the AC treatments.

Tuesday, July 20, 2021 Poor Macy girl had to stay home from school today - she and ¾ of her classroom at daycare, has RSV. She’s been coughing and I know this is just the beginning. Praying that my immune system can fight off this virus. I know that it usually affects young kiddos and the elderly much worse, because of their underdeveloped airways. I am going to take all the vitamins and do everything I can to stay healthy. But my 1st priority is always going to be Macy and her health and well-being. So virus be damned, my baby needs me. I'm gonna be there to hold her and snuggle her and get her through this. Friday, July 23, 2021 My mom came into town this morning to help take care of Macy. We’ve had a really hard week, Macy continued to get worse and worse every day. I think the absolute worst was yesterday, but she’s still coughing pretty bad and has a runny nose. So mom came in to help watch her and keep her comfortable so that Cory and I could focus on work today. Hopeful that she’ll be able to put this behind her this weekend and head back to daycare on Monday. So far, I’ve been able to avoid any bad illness - I’ve had a brief cough and some congestion here and there but nothing that would make me think I won’t be able to get my treatment this next week.

July 13, 2021 Today was my last round of Adriamycin and Cytoxan (AC) chemotherapy! It was unfortunately the most nauseous that I’ve ever been during treatment, but after today I won’t have to get them anymore. We’ll be moving on to Taxol for my next 4 rounds of chemo. Today also marks the half-way point in my chemo treatments. I took it as an opportunity to celebrate, but also to share my journey with a wider audience. I put together a video detailing my diagnosis and my experience thus far, but also using it as an opportunity to hopefully raise awareness around the importance of breast health in young women and also draw attention to everything that God has been doing to make a way for me and my family as we walk through this fight together.

Wednesday, June 30, 2021 Felt pretty good today, thank you WBC shot. Red blood cells are pretty low after blood draw… not sure if I should be concerned by this or not. I do notice a bit of difficulty breathing and I seem to get tired faster. Worked a full day per-usual. Started feeling kind of worn down around the afternoon/evening. Thursday, July 1, 2021 Woke up with a sore throat and knew something was off. Txt my oncologist with my symptoms and he sent in a script for an antibiotic right away. Stayed in bed for most of the day. Head cold symptoms and congestion progressed throughout the day. Ears were plugged up and intense head pressure by the end of day. Started sleeping upright in bed to help my breathing and airways with the pressure/pain. Friday, July 2, 2021 Cold/flu/viral symptoms are the worst. I hate cancer. I hate being sick. I hate being sick with cancer while my body is fighting to recover from a round of chemo. This is the absolute worst. In bed basically all day. Saturday, July 3, 2021 Happy (almost) 4th of July. Thought I might be feeling a bit better so we went out to Crestwick in the afternoon/evening so Macy could ride in the parade and we hung out with family and cousins. Enjoyed a BBQ dinner and then headed home. Felt pretty crummy by the time we got home and knew I was in for a rough night. Continued with sleeping upright. Sunday, July 4, 2021 I had hoped we'd be going to Champaign to celebrate the holiday with my family but I will be staying in bed for most of the day instead. This disappointment led to a pretty big breakdown. I had told Cory to take Macy to the park, to get out of the house and enjoy the day instead of staying inside as I wallow in my self-pity. When they were out I just broke down and threw a fit, screaming, crying, yelling at God for the first time in all of this. I hate that cancer is taking away the fun moments, holidays, memories - from my family and I. But my tantrum came as quickly as it went. I felt God calming my heart, reminding me that this fit was only going to make me sicker, and settling my aching soul. Breathing is still a struggle and my head pressure is out of control, the tantrum certainly didn't help. Monday, July 5, 2021 Woke up feeling a bit better (praise the Lord). Decided to make the most of our last day of the holiday weekend, after a weekend full of bed rest, pity parties, tons of Kleenex and snot. So Cory went and scoured the town to find an inflatable pool for us to enjoy with Macy. He ended up coming home with 4 inflatable water toy options - one wicked awesome large inflatable sports themed pool, one regular ol’ kiddie pool, one splash pad and another splash “blob.” This is the BEST day ever. Macy has loved playing in the water. We spent almost the entire day outside in the shade, enjoying the warm weather, lounging in the pool. I will remember this day fondly for the rest of my life.

June 29, 2021 I can officially never again eat an Italian ice. You know the ones that you get at baseball games - lemon, strawberry - you name it. They’re usually delicious on a hot summer day, exactly what you need to quench your thirst. But not for me, not anymore anyway. I was trying to use them the last 2 rounds of chemotherapy to keep my mouth iced down during the Adriamycin infusion and now just the thought of them makes me feel sick. *Womp, womp* Chemo went fine, it seemed to go pretty quickly today, but I was dog-tired as soon as I got home. I had to crawl in bed and sleep to restore as much energy as I could for when Macy got home from school. My friend Melinda told me at the beginning of this journey that during treatment, we have to rely on others. We have to do as little as possible, do everything that we can to save energy for the things that only we can do. Anyone can clean the house, make dinner, fold laundry - but only momma can do bath time, hold her baby for story time before bed, sing “You Are My Sunshine” and say prayers together. So I will keep doing everything I can to be present for those moments that only I can do, I live for those moments with my baby girl.

Friday, June 25, 2021 I took the afternoon off today to join my mom and Jessa in Champaign to meet with a wonderful leukemia survivor, Macy (gotta love that name) who is a hairdresser and a friend of my sister’s. Macy offered to help me get comfortable with my wigs. Wigs are hard y’all. They’re hard to buy because you’re most likely shopping online and you don’t know what color, style, size, etc. will work best for you. They’re also HOT, and itchy. Like really hot, and really itchy - and it’s summer - so wigs and summer, not a great combo. But I’m hopeful that with some help from Macy, I’ll start to feel more comfortable with sporting these new accessories. Meeting Macy brought me so much joy - not only is she a survivor of what could be considered one of the scariest forms of cancer, leukemia, she’s also currently pregnant! She’s young and beautiful and kind and her story gives me so much hope. I sat down in her chair and removed my hat. This was the first time I’d been in public with my shaved head. I was very aware of everyone’s eyes, it’s hard to not look at someone with no hair, to not wonder why… I was probably imagining most of it, but even in my head it was anxiety inducing. But after a while, I stopped noticing. Macy started putting my wigs on, trimming them up, shaping them out, showing me how to adjust them, teaching me about maintenance and how to try and make them more comfortable. And as she worked we talked about her battle with cancer. She was even younger than I am when she was diagnosed, and had literally just gotten married, talk about putting those vows into play right out the gate. Her fight was long, years long, and it brought many challenges - but she beat it, and it has only made her stronger. She is fierce and I felt so lucky to have met her. She understood where I was at in my walk, the pains that not many can empathize with, she lived over and over again and helped me to believe that life after this can and will be more beautiful than ever. I left that day so thankful for the people that God continues to place in mine and my family’s lives. People that are literally carrying me through this fight, renewing hope and restoring faith with every chance encounter. I mean really - my sister met Macy randomly at a birthing class. The odds that they would strike up a friendship, learn about each other's lives, have something so specific in common just at the right moment in time - can only be orchestrated by our Heavenly Father. All I can say is, keep it coming, God - I’ll take all the help I can get.

Thursday, June 17, 2021 I was able to be up a bit longer this morning. I helped Macy get ready for daycare and then sat with my mom for breakfast. We sat outside on the back porch a bit, and then I started feeling pretty tired so I went upstairs and slept. It felt like I was in bed most of the day. Friday, June 18, 2021 I experienced more fatigue with this round of chemo than the 1st one. But I was reminded by my friend and BC survivor, Melinda, that chemo is unfortunately a cumulative process and with each round I will probably need an additional day for recovery. I stayed in bed for most of the day and didn’t really eat much. Saturday, June 19, 2021 Unfortunately, I felt nauseous for most of the day. This was new, last round I didn’t feel any bad nausea really, or if I did it was more like “hunger nausea” where if I would get ahead of it and eat small meals throughout the day I could hold off the nausea. But this time it was just nonstop feeling crummy and nothing sounded good to eat. Sunday, June 20, 2021 Same as Saturday, just felt nauseous most of the day and wasn’t really able to eat much. I should have called/texted my Dr. about it, I learned later that he could have sent in a prescription to help with this. I’ll know for next time. Monday, June 21, 2021 I woke up feeling pretty close to normal finally. I was able to get back to work and I'm planning on working all week, I have an appt and check-in with Dr. Migas tomorrow to talk about how things have been going, ask any questions, discuss side effect management, etc. Tuesday, June 22, 2021 My sister Jessa joined me for my bi-weekly check-in with my oncologist. We were able to talk through some of my questions, apprehensions and fears - and he really did put my mind at ease. We discussed the “triple negative” classification that my breast cancer carries. He explained to me that the greatest risk for recurrence is in those first few years after treatment, which is why we are throwing everything we can at it now so that we will hopefully avoid any recurrence down the road. And as scary as that word “recurrence” can be - what I hold onto is that year-1, year-2, year-3 of remission - each one will bring me closer to a lifetime of not having to be afraid of this crap coming back. And that helps me to breathe a bit easier. I’ve got a lot of life left to live and as scary and challenging as chemo has been, every minute, every day, every year that it gives me with my husband, with my daughter - will make it all worth it.