From Garden Beds to PET Scan Blessings

Hope In Bloom

It’s been a little while. So much has happened since my last update, including my first combined GemOx and Glofit treatment. We were originally told it would be fully outpatient, but my oncologist decided it would be safer for me to stay overnight for monitoring, especially with the higher chemo dose. So we did the infusion in clinic and headed straight to the hospital afterward. Thankfully, everything went smoothly—no drama, no surprises.

While I was there, I decided to try a little embroidery project that claimed to be “beginner friendly.” Let’s just say... I’m convinced the label was a lie. But I’m sticking with it! I’ll share progress pics during upcoming treatments.

Meanwhile, something really special has been blooming at home. Knowing how much I love flowers, a sweet friend brought a little dream to life and came up with a beautiful garden plan—she figured out what would thrive in our garden bed and created a list for other friends to pick from and drop off on our porch. I check on those plants multiple times a day and it has brought me so much joy.

Then came the big moment: my PET scan.

This scan carried a lot of weight. With this treatment approach, doctors expect to see meaningful results fast—over 80% improvement by now. If that didn’t happen, we’d likely need to pivot to something else.

Because of the residual radiation from the scan, I had to avoid being around my little ones for several hours afterward, so I parked myself in a coffee shop to wait it out. My first two scans? My doctor called within the hour. This time? Crickets. Every minute felt like an hour. Don’t get me wrong—I know I’m incredibly blessed to have a doctor who calls directly instead of making us wait days. But when you're sitting in the dark, that silence gets loud. George was home with the girls, just as anxious as I was. Each time my screen lit up, my stomach flipped—was this it? The call that would change everything again?

Then it came: a text from my doctor. "Scan looks awesome. I’ll call you in a second."

I couldn’t stop smiling. I let out a massive exhale and tears rolled down my face, right there at my little table.

He called seconds later and said the words I’ll never forget—"It looks like the disease has melted away." And just like that, Holy Week began with hope.

I called George, and I could hear him telling the girls and my in-laws in the background. Laughter. Cheering. Relief. It was the kind of joy you feel in your bones. When I walked in the door, the hugs were tighter, the smiles bigger, the tears even sweeter. And to top it all off, our garden had just been freshly mulched by another generous friend and her family. It was blooming—just like us. Haha.. Have you gotten used to my corniness yet?

Wednesday rolled around—treatment day. Labs, oncologist appointment, and infusion.

We finally got to ask what the scan meant for our plan going forward. The answer? Stick with what’s working. Six more rounds of chemo. Ten more rounds of bispecific antibodies. It's crazy to me that with just 2 cycles completed, the scan is clear—but undetectable disease is still in my body. My particular type of DLBCL is aggressive, and can go from undetectable to stage 4 in weeks or a few months. That’s essentially what happened when I relapsed in February. We had a clean PET scan in September, and I felt great. Then in January, I started noticing a little weight loss—not nearly as dramatic as before—but then came a brief backache I chalked up to exercise. A scan in February showed advanced disease across the body with new spread to my kidney.

This time, we’ll also be doing Minimal Residual Disease (MRD) testing. It’s still relatively new in DLBCL, so time will tell how helpful it is.

A donor stem cell transplant is still on the back burner, just in case. My team reached out to my brothers, and one looks like a 50% match. A full match is ideal, but with advances in transplant science and post-care, even a half match is often successful. For unrelated donors, matches are found through international registries. The odds for a full match are low—especially for people in racial minority groups. Based on my results, my best chance of a match would come from the South Indian population. If you’re interested in joining the donor registry, I’ll link the site below. It’s quick and easy: fill out a form, swab your cheek when the kit arrives, and send it back. That’s it. And who knows—you could be someone’s miracle. Maybe even mine.

Learn more and become a donor by clicking here!

As for this past treatment—it went well. Side effects are definitely piling on now. More fatigue. More nausea. Cold sensitivity in my hands and feet. Dizziness. New joint pain, especially in my neck. But thankfully, I’ve been able to rest. And I’ll keep listening to my body as we go.

One treatment at a time. One step closer.

Happy Easter and Remembering Pope Francis

Happy Easter season to everyone! I hope you all had a Blessed Triduum and start to the Easter season. We had a very low-key Easter Sunday this year, which was actually very nice to be able to reflect on the past few months and what's to come.

I was deeply saddened to hear, just the next day, about the passing of our beloved Pope Francis. I still remember watching his election in 2013 and smiling when he chose the name Francis — a sweet detail that felt personal, since I was dating George at the time and knew my last name would soon be Francis too. That name has taken on such deeper meaning over the years.

Pope Francis showed the world that true leadership in the Church isn’t about grandeur, but about humility, service, and simplicity. He lived modestly, chose simple clothing and housing, and led with the heart of St. Francis of Assisi, always close to the poor and forgotten. He helped break the image of the papacy as a role of pomp and power, and reminded us that the Church should never lose sight of Christ’s call to live simply and love boldly.

As we pray for the College of Cardinals, I ask the Holy Spirit to guide them in unity and wisdom — that they may choose a shepherd who will lead with courage and deep love for Christ and His people. Someone unafraid of rejection. Someone willing to speak the truth with clarity and conviction, and to stand firmly in defense of Jesus’ teachings — even when it's not popular.

We’re living in a time that deeply needs this kind of leadership — one that will protect and preserve the faith in the face of growing moral relativism and cultural confusion. We've seen how easy it is for Christians to blend into the world, to trade sacrifice for comfort, and how that has come at the cost of so much: the value of children, the strength of the domestic family, and the bold witness the Church is meant to be. We need a leader who can lovingly but firmly call us back — back to the truth, back to Christ.

Current Prayer Requests

• For continued healing—that this treatment stays effective, that every microscopic trace of disease is wiped out completely, and that I reach full remission.

• For endurance and strength—especially as the cumulative side effects of treatment start to wear on my body and energy.

• For peace of mind—as we continue to walk through the unknown, that anxiety stays quiet and hope stays loud.

• For protection during my low-count (nadir) weeks—that I stay safe from infections and complications while my immune system is vulnerable.

• For wisdom for my medical team—as they continue to guide this journey and make decisions about next steps.

• For gratitude and perspective—that I never lose sight of the blessings, even in the midst of the battle.

With all my love,

Blessy