Sometimes it’s hard to even begin to describe the difficulty of managing all of this.
It’s easy for people to see the cancer, the chemo, the appointments, the hospital stays, and the upcoming stem cell transplant. They see me advocating for myself, researching treatment options, asking questions, and doing absolutely everything in my power to beat this disease.
But it’s hard to describe everything else happening in the background. Because life doesn’t just stop when you get cancer. Right now, I’m essentially managing two households in two different states. There are bills to pay, schedules to coordinate, and an endless list of logistics to figure out.
I’m trying to coordinate a rotating schedule of caretakers who will need to come to Houston to help me through my transplant and recovery. That means working around family schedules, their health, availability, and travel arrangements. And what makes this really fun, other than the obvious unknowns of the things listed above is that I still don't even know when my transplant is happening or when I'll be admitted to the hospital. So I'm trying to coordinate an elaborate schedule around dates that don't actually exist yet.
I'm trying to get my disability insurance benefits started while still keeping everything financially afloat. I'm managing my children's school schedules, activities, appointments, and all the things that come with raising three kids solo, except I'm doing it from over 1,000 miles away. This isn’t to take away from all the amazing help that I have at home. I am so lucky to have the world’s best au pair and parents who have stepped up, but I’m still the one in charge of decisions.
And then there's the actual parenting. Three children with three very different personalities, emotional needs, and responses to discipline. Again, I’m so incredibly grateful for the people at home that are caring for them, but I'm also trying to navigate how to guide everyone through situations from afar. Trying to make sure we're consistent, that the kids feel supported, that the caretakers feel supported, and that the kids are getting what they need emotionally while I’m is halfway across the country fighting cancer.
I'm also still responsible for my business, which is still in its infancy. Although thankfully I have an incredible team that has largely taken over the day-to-day operations. I cannot overstate how grateful I am for them (Yelly, Kenzie, and Lilly- you all are my dream team and I can’t unstate how much I appreciate you all).
There are employees to pay, household help to pay, bills to manage, travel to arrange, and a thousand little decisions that somehow still need to be made every single day.
And then, just for good measure, let's throw in a custody trial.
Because having leukemia and preparing for a stem cell transplant isn't quite enough to have on my plate.
After approximately 11 months of not seeing the children because he has refused to comply with court-ordered alcohol testing, Greg has now decided he wants to resume visitation. But, only if he doesn’t have to comply with the the testing requirements that were put in place for the children's safety.
And so, on Monday, between my blood draw and my appointment with my stem cell team, I'll be remotely appearing in court in order to continue to fight to protect my children.
Again.
It’s really difficult to describe the amount of time, emotional energy, and financial resources I have had to devote over the years to protecting my children from the effects of their father's behavior.
And right now, that feels really heavy. I am literally fighting for my life. And somehow, at the very same time, I still have to fight to protect my children's stability and well-being.
The kids have already been through so much. I was diagnosed with leukemia, then disappeared into the hospital for weeks, and then had to move halfway across the country for treatment. Their entire world has been turned upside down. We have worked incredibly hard to create as much consistency, security, and normalcy for them as possible.
And now I'm having to divert precious time and energy away from my own medical care to defend that stability in court. All because their father continues to seek visitation without first meeting the requirements that have been in place for years.
Right now these children need stability. They need consistency. They need peace. They do not need more uncertainty or disruption. And I wish I didn't have to spend any of my remaining energy fighting for something that should be so obvious.
I don’t share all of this because I want sympathy. I share it because I think people need to understand that life still moves on even in the face of a serious illness. The responsibilities don’t disappear. And the difficult people and situations in your life don’t suddenly become easier or more reasonable just because you’re fighting for your life.
The chaos keeps coming. You just have to keep managing it while also trying to stay alive.
Although, if anyone happens to possess the unique ability to talk Greg down from trying to interfere with our lives, I will gladly accept that kind of support too.
There are days when I feel like I'm managing a hundred different moving parts, any one of which could fall apart if I stop paying attention. And at the same time I'm also supposed to be resting, healing, staying positive, and preparing my body for one of the biggest medical challenges of my life.
It's a lot.
But I’ll showing up. For my kids. For my business. For the people counting on me. And, most importantly, for myself. Because as overwhelming as all of this can be, I have worked too damn hard and come too damn far to let any of it prevent me from my ultimate goal:
Getting healthy. Getting home. And getting back to being the mom my kids need me to be and being the vet that I my patients need me to be.
And someday, I really hope that the only thing on my to-do list is something wonderfully normal.