top of page
Search

Living between control and surrender

Hypervigilance is not a new state of being for me. Maybe it’s C-PTSD, being neurospicy, something written in the stars for an empath… or a mix of everything. All I know is that it’s a familiar space and my body often feels trapped in it.


It’s literally made me chronically ill, a trip to the Mayo Clinic in my early 30s confirmed fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue syndrome and the only prescription was essentially to figure out how to calm the f down. Easier said than done… especially right now.


So when we scheduled Kara’s brain MRI, it took a monumental effort to convince my own brain not to go off the deep end. I wasn’t hopeful. I wasn’t stressed. I just was... (probably disassociated). But I just kept reminding myself that there’s nothing about this that I can control, it's a part of the journey and so I set my worries aside and pushed forward. Still, the night before, the scanxiety began to creep in.


That night, my mind found new ways to torture me. I dreamt of Kara requesting coffee and spilling the entire hot cup on her leg. It played out in slow motion, she’s screaming and I can’t help. I wake up frustrated that I can’t control my dreams.


The morning of the scan, the rumination starts. How often she’s been rubbing her eyes and one side of her face. The blank stares a few weeks ago. The small memory lapses. Her angry outbursts... are they normal frustration, or something darker, like a tumor changing her personality?


At the imaging center, our favorite tech Autumn was on vacation but Kara took to a new face right away. She picked holiday music to listen to during the test, just like last year. It hit me how far we’ve traveled since her first MRI. I want to feel confident about the steps we’ve taken but I still wonder... did the break after her last treatment give the cancer a window to spread? Did our hesitation or a decision I made, somehow make things worse?


A clock is always ticking in the background. Sometimes it’s quiet; sometimes it’s deafening.


I try to ground myself. I scroll my phone and open one of the daily prayers Coach Rasche sends me. I'm reminded that God is in the driver’s seat, always. Whatever the results, I’ll respond however I’m called to through Him.


Kara, as always, does great during the test. She charms everyone she meets. When the tech asks if we have a follow-up scheduled soon, my stomach flips. I read too much into her tone, her body language and I convince myself she knows something horrible. I let Mom finish the conversation while Kara and I slip out.


As we exit the parking lot, Kara has a coughing fit that sends me scrambling for the puke bag. I’m tired of the chaos. I dart across the street into Kwik Star for a drink; she’s thrilled and tells me we’ll need the wheelchair for the next appointment. It’s a delicate dance with her, when to accommodate and when to encourage building strength. Hard to know which lever to pull when.


Back home, I help her get her purse ready for an outing with Marci. Then the results post. I read them quietly, alongside Mom. I scan for the bad news, once, twice, three times - until I trust my own eyes.


Then the message comes in from her nurse:

“Brain MRI is negative. No evidence of intracranial metastatic disease.”


And suddenly, my body releases a wave of tension I didn’t even know I was holding.


The Body Keeps the Score is real and despite my best efforts to stay calm, I know my body is carrying every ounce of this journey. But today, it finally takes a moment to let go. And for a little while, I get to breathe.

We’re taking the win. We’re celebrating the good news.

God is so, so good.


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 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.

 
 
 

2 Comments


Guest
Oct 29

TOOT TOOT... MAYBE IT'S THE POPCORN.........


Like

Mike
Oct 28

Control & surrender is the perfect emotion. We ( my wife Sue Kist) know how you feel. Our Grandson was born premature, was 2lbs.2oz,( about the size of a squirrel). He’s now 15 y.o. But, we carried the load you’re carrying, between control & surrender. Keep praying, doing the things that youre doing… and smile when you can, let others make you smile.

Like
bottom of page