Holding Both: Budgets and Breakdowns

One minute I’m knee-deep in building a festival budget for a grant application, and the next I’m crying because Kara fell asleep in her chair before I had a chance to make it over for a morning visit. I don’t know what hits harder - feeling like I’ve let her down when I don’t do what I say I’m going to, or the gravity of the situation. Logically, I know it’s the latter. But the guilt still sticks.

I always laugh about how my parents can never explain what I do for a living. To be fair, I pause when people ask me too, because my hands are in a lot of different things.

Usually I start with my main gig: Director of Programs & Events for the Downtown Davenport Partnership. Which is an affiliate of the Quad Cities Chamber... so yeah already complicated to explain who I work for. With nearly a decade at the organization, "Programs" encompasses quite a bit. This morning it was grant support for a small businesses, the start of a streetscape project, downtown safety initiatives, and social media campaigns. One minute I’m drafting an overview of our public safety collaboration with DPD and local social service agencies, the next I’m connecting with my employee Haley (our rockstar new Marketing & Placemaking Manager), and then I’m back to working on festival budgets - festival work pretty much never ends.

On the events side, I serve as Festival Director for Alternating Currents (my favorite and most meaningful project), and also lead Icestravaganza, Red, White and Boom, and a number of downtown activations during Bix weekend + work with Haley on smaller neighborhood and retail oriented activations throughout the year.

That’s all the stuff I haven’t been able to drop because it pays the bills. When Kara was first diagnosed, all I wanted to do was clear my plate. I couldn't imagine working through any of this at all. And while it may seem like I didn’t succeed, I actually did clear a lot: I stepped down from my official coaching position with the Clinton River Queens tennis team and stayed on as a volunteer, paused weekly lessons at the club, (mostly) stopped working at the Capitol Theatre, declined advisory councils and board opportunities, and I'm turning down any freelance project or event that’s come my way.

Last week, my team gave me kind, thoughtful praise about how well I seem to be handling everything. I appreciated the sentiment, and also knew how fragile I am. I could collapse at any moment, like truly I have to remind myself to literally breathe because I've found myself holding my breath with anxiety flooding over me.

The truth is, I love my work. I have what I’d consider a few of my dream jobs. I’ve been surrounded by incredible colleagues and bosses who have supported not just me but Kara, too. She’s tagged along with me to the office, legislative events, even backstage at festivals. We’ve been a package deal for as long as I can remember.

I can’t bear to imagine a future without her. We had big plans for this next chapter, and I’m so angry that cancer blew it all up. So instead of spiraling, I try to stay grounded. I try to restore my faith and just be where my feet are. But sometimes that means I sit at my desk wondering why I’m answering texts about something trivial when none of it feels important. How'd you all get my number anyway? :)

I just want to be where she is.

I’ve been given so much grace and flexibility to be with her. And have an unbelievable support system that I know I can tap into at anytime. But with the gravity of the situation, nothing will feel like enough. I've always been tethered to her and any distance at this point my body responds like it's a full-on emergency.

So that’s where I am today. April 1st.

Kara, on the other hand… dare I say, is doing great! I think we’ve made it over the hump from the repercussions of the last treatment. She’s back to her bossy self, and she’s moving so much better. She’s even jumping up and down and clapping again—something I haven’t seen in months. Praise the Lord.

We still don’t have access to palliative care (a rant for another day), but we had a good visit with her primary care provider and a grounding, productive chat with our retired family doctor. We’re making a support plan for another dose. Our goal is to push through one more cycle so we can get a PET scan and have clearer insight into what’s next.

Kara isn’t phased by the thought of more treatment. She’s just… brave. And incredible.

I’m endlessly grateful for the village that surrounds us (especially the neighborhood’s never-ending supply of potato salad and popcorn—it’s a vital part of our survival mechanism at this point).

Hopefully I’ll have time to post another update soon. But for now, I need to stop crying and submit that grant application.

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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!