Strong Enough to Break

I’m struggling to find adequate words to describe how much of a rollercoaster each day has been. I’ve been told that once treatment starts and we settle into a routine, I might feel like the ground is more stable. But I’m starting to realize that settling just might not be in the cards for us.

Kara hasn’t been herself since her first treatment on Thursday. To be clear, I didn’t expect her to bounce back immediately, but I was still hopeful that we’d see glimmers of her. We made it through a rough weekend (as documented in my last blog), and she’s just now starting to get her appetite back. She’s listening to messages on her phone and smiling, but she hasn’t had the energy to respond to anyone. When she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper. Her coloring is peaked, and it’s hard not to look at her and feel the worry.

She’s been asking more questions about her chemo treatment and why she got so sick. At first, we hoped her incomplete understanding of cancer might shield her from some of the emotional toll, but now I’m tracking a girl riddled with anxiety and wondering what’s happening to her. It’s crushing. There aren’t many words that can bring her comfort. We made a plan with her care team to put preventive measures in place to help keep her out of the hospital next time. But it’s a delicate balance because I can’t promise her we’ll avoid it entirely.

My mind jumps to worst-case scenarios constantly, trying to logically think through all the hurdles ahead—part trauma response, part Deliberative strength from my CliftonStrengths (yes, it’s in my top five). This trait has helped me in my career but haunted me in moments like this. Right now, it feels like a curse.

But I’m working on recognizing those patterns and fighting to stay present. Every day is a battle. I pray fiercely for my higher power to ground me and pull me back to the moment we’re in.

With another treatment on the books for tomorrow, we hyped Kara up as best we could. We went in for bloodwork this morning. Then got the call from her nurse: She’s neutropenic. Her white blood cell count is 1.0. Great. Well, I guess that explains why she’s completely wiped out. She’s not strong enough, so treatment is postponed. She’s also at high risk for infection and ordered to stay home.

Not that she minds—she barely has the energy to make it from one room to another.

Now we wait for approval for Zarxio, an injection to help boost her white blood cell count faster. It’s frustrating on so many levels. It feels like we just got benched during the playoffs. I’m half relieved that we don’t have to put her through another round tomorrow and worry about more side effects, but I’m also terrified we’re losing precious time. What if this is just the beginning of a sign that her body can’t handle chemo at all?

I wish I had a video of Kara’s go-to phrase when things spiral out of control, she says: “It’s too much, too much, too much.” She's not wrong. I guess I'll try to find some solace in the fact that Kara seems to have experienced a wave of relief knowing another round of treatment is postponed.

On a lighter note, due to high demand - we opened the Team Kara store back up! For a limited time, products are back on sale. To purchase, click here: https://adcraftwebstores.com/tkara25/