Have you taken a breath yet?

It’s a common question after a festival. And a fair one with AC, which isn’t just a music fest - - - it’s a comedy fest, a film fest, a makers fest, a mural fest. It’s all the arts over four days in three cities. The only bi-state, multi-city event of its kind.

I’m a bit ashamed to admit that it was even in the top ten thoughts I had upon learning Kara’s cancer diagnosis. How in the world would AC happen while I’m under this kind of duress? It barely comes together when I’m at my absolute best. I’ve felt like I was climbing Mt. Everest, except all the while I knew that the second the festival wrapped, the climb to another stratosphere would continue. So no, I definitely haven’t caught my breath.

On the bright side, the festival was incredible, as it always is. I dwelled over 1,000 little things that I wished I had the time and energy to improve. But in the thick of the action, not much of it mattered. And Kara was there. That was a selfish goal of mine, that she got to be present and see her friends. Shout out to Ashlee and Mitch for making the trek from Nebraska and Lisa and John from Naperville. It was so fun to host you and surround Kara with so many who love her.

The sweltering heat made it nearly impossible to get Kara out around downtown. And when she is out, people always comment on how good she looks. It’s sweet to say and pretty true, but my mind flashes to the moments in the day that no one else sees. She moans and groans, unable to find comfort until Advil hits her system. I’m grateful for that little pill, because at least something is giving her poor body a reprieve. She spent most of her time in her room and the Hotel Blackhawk lobby. Some of my favorite moments was her greeting from the Hembree boys, meals in artist hospitality (man, did she love the pulled pork!) and catching up with our new friend, Muralist Molly Keen. Kara's basically a celebrity and it was sweet to see everyone enthusiastically interact with her.

Since our trip to Indy, the pain seems harder to manage and she’s been sleeping more. When we went back for a round of treatment, it was delayed because her blood counts were bad. The next week her symptoms grew worse and her oncologist hit pause on treatment until her PET scan. We’ve been in a waiting pattern ever since, managing pain until we could get a clearer picture of what’s happening.

Her CT scan on Tuesday was traditionally good, but I was honestly hoping to see a kidney stone so I could pin her pain on something non-cancer related. Instead, the scan ruled things out, which only heightened my anxiety. In my gut, I knew what the PET scan would say. As my mom clung to hope, I broke under the weight of it Wednesday night and rattled off all the reasons I knew the cancer had spread. I have these moments where I get frustrated carrying the realities. I probably need to do better about biting my tongue, because there’s no reason why other people can’t sit in hope even if I can’t.

Thursday morning Kara woke up in pain. She couldn’t have anything but water after midnight, which made her morning dose of Advil a challenge. A scoop of applesauce has always been the way we get pills down, but this time she had to try with water. She was reluctant, but she’s such a pro, she did it anyway. Twenty minutes later the spark was back. She was up and moving.

At Genesis Imaging, we had a nice visit in the lobby with our friend Autumn. Kara got her finger pricked (twice) to check her blood sugar and didn’t even flinch. She was thrilled that the tech didn’t put a bandaid on her. I always warn them, she’ll take a needle like a champ but the minute you want to wrap her in coban or a bandaid, watch out. She was so quiet all morning and immediately back to her chipper self when she realized no bandaid was in her future. It doesn’t make sense, but it doesn’t have to. I’m just grateful gauze is what she bucks.

After that the IV was put in and we were instructed to leave. They don’t want us near the radioactive tracer. It always feels strange to leave her for 90 minutes. An eternity in the lobby. But the moment she rolls out, a wave of relief washes over me. She’s here, smiling, still shining.

She picked Culver’s for lunch. Sadly, it’s no longer her favorite burger. In fact, a few of her top foods don’t hit the same anymore. She looks to us for reassurance when she doesn’t eat much. She asks if she did a good job eating. Any bite is a win. I’ll always be her hype girl. She’s crushing it in my eyes.

Then the scan results came through the portal. Kara’s cancer has progressed since May. The disease in her bones is more active, especially in her sternum, spine, and skull. New lymph nodes are lighting up in her chest and neck. A small spot on her skin could be a metastasis. And in her pelvis, there’s a very bright area that the radiologist thinks is most likely related to her bladder, either urine pooling or a small outpouching called a diverticulum. Worth noting, since Kara has had urinary symptoms and blood in her urine.

The one piece of encouraging news is that her major organs: liver, lungs, and others do not show new involvement. That hopefully gives us a little breathing room as we figure out next steps. But overall, it means the chemo she’s been on isn’t working the way we hoped, and her care team will be talking with us about what comes next. Pain management and quality of life will be at the center of those decisions.

I cried today for the first time in a very long time. It’s hard to sit with her and see her eyes dart around the room, searching for answers. The other day when I got off the phone with a provider, she asked me, “Did the medicine make the cancer go away?” I’ve never felt so heartbroken. I don’t know how to explain it to her. I don’t know how to help. All I can do in this moment is keep living as best as I can.

Tonight her heart is set on going to Music on the Ave to see CJ Parker perform with 10 of Soul. Personally my soul needs rest, but I’ll keep doing whatever makes Kara happy and I’ll savor every single second I have with her. This moment is all we have and I’m determined to keep living it. I can catch my breath later.

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If You're New Here

Hi, I’m Alisha, Kara’s sister and biggest advocate. Kara was diagnosed with Stage 4 Triple-Negative Invasive Ductal Carcinoma (TNBC) in December 2024. Her cancer has spread to her bones, liver, and other areas, making this an incredibly difficult and uncertain journey.

Despite it all, Kara’s light still shines so brightly—she’s full of love, giggles, and endless positivity. This blog is where I share updates on her fight, the highs and lows, and the incredible community rallying around her.

Thank you for being here, for your love, support, and prayers. We need them more than ever. 💛 And of course, Go Hawks!

Team Kara Support Fund

Your gift helps cover travel, caregiving, and comfort-related expenses for Kara’s support team. While Kara cannot receive funds directly, your generosity provides the relief and resources we need to keep showing up with love.

https://givebutter.com/teamkara