October 13, 2026
It's been quite a week. So much happens in our days that I feel like I've lived a lifetime since I last updated the blog.
It's been nine months since Ollie's relapse. Nine months of clinic visits, bone marrow biopsies, blood transfusions and hospital stays, and it still feels like there is no clear path forward. That's not because we don't have an incredible team around us. It's because there isn't a clear path for this cancer. There's no binder with calendars, no chemo regimen proven to kill it, no clear steps to take if something goes wrong.
Ollie was supposed to be admitted for his bone marrow transplant last week. As I shared in a previous update, his biopsy showed there was still cancer, so we're back at clinic for one more round of chemo first.
Going to clinic daily is hard for me. My therapist suggested a better word is brutal. It's exhausting mentally, emotionally and physically, and that surprises me, because I adore everyone there. Ollie walks around like he owns the place. The nurses, doctors and child life specialists aren't just his team; they're my friends. I know their kids’ names, their Starbucks orders, and where they went last weekend.
But it is hard. It's hard to go in for chemo when we should be in the hospital for transplant. It's hard to sit next to other families carrying news you'd never wish on anyone. It's hard to convince a three-year-old to go to UNC seven out of eight weekdays. It's hard to drive, figure out childcare, and pack enough to entertain a small child for seven hours. This week I felt the weight of everything I carry, and it felt like too much.
I know I'm not the only one who knows hardship, discouragement and pain. Even if you can't relate to our situation, you have a story of your own. I've learned that taking care of myself (sleeping, eating well, drinking water, trying to lower my stress) matters, because as a friend told me last week: if the queen falls, the kingdom falls. It isn't all riding on me, but I have to care for myself so I can care for my children well.
As for Ollie, he's doing well. He's a little more nauseated, tired and grouchy, but he's in good spirits and is the strongest boy in the world. His last chemo infusion is tomorrow. After that we go in for labs and transfusions as needed until his biopsy on October 27. If it shows no signs of cancer, we move forward to transplant. If cancer is detected, we'll talk with our team about next steps.
His donor is international and was scheduled to donate cells this week, but got sick, so their collection has been rescheduled for November 2. Once we have the cells, they can be frozen until Ollie is ready. Will you pray that the donor is healthy and able to give on November 2? If anything falls through, we'll have to switch to another donor, which would take weeks to set up. The tricky part of transplant is timing: getting Ollie into remission, letting his counts recover a little, and not giving the cancer a chance to come back in between.
If everything goes to plan, Ollie will be admitted November 9, with his cell infusion on November 19. Until the biopsy results and donor cells come in, we won't have more news. Thank you for your continued prayers and support for our family. Once we go to transplant, I’ll have ways for this beautiful community to help. ❤️
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