General Updates
07.19.2025
Okaayyyy so chemo round #1 - donzo. Chemo round #2 - did it. Now we’re rounding the corner into #3. At this point, I’m pretty accustomed to the routine of it all. But I started #3 with a little pep in my step. My tumor is responding. Yes, you heard it here first, folks. The drugs being piped into my veins are taking out the bad guys.
I think a lot of you are wondering, is that normal? And to answer without sounding dumb, I don’t think there is any “normal” when it comes to a rare cancer. But I can tell you this: it’s good, and the doctors are happy.
We even got a little jump start on surgery planning. Tentatively, we’re looking at mid-October, after I complete and recover from all six rounds of chemo. Then, barring any curveballs, we’ll move right into radiation.
Chemo feels like my Mt. Everest. Although let’s be real… I would never be caught actually climbing a mountain. I’m more the girl at the chalet, posted in front of a roaring fire with a dirty martini in hand and decked out in faux furs. All that to say, chemo is a one-foot-in-front-of-the-other kind of journey. It’s moving fast and slow at the same time.
The team here has it down to a science. I get labs, they adjust my meds, and we keep things moving to keep me in tip-top shape. This last round, #2, my body handled it so much better than round #1. Although, looking back, the months of worry and going through the diagnosis of cancer may have had my body at a disadvantage going into that first round. I think I was already worn down before treatment even began.
Something I haven’t shared here yet: after round #1, I spent a couple nights in the hospital. I got what they call a neutropenic fever — which basically means my immune system was wiped out. So much so that my body couldn’t even fight off its own normal bacteria, let alone a cold. I tested positive for a cold virus and became slightly septic. Sounds dramatic, and I guess it kind of is. From what I’ve learned, it can go downhill fast.
But honestly, I felt okay. I actually woke up from a nap on a sunny Saturday with shivers. I’d been warned that any temp of 100.8 or higher meant I needed to go in. I had 101.
So I went to the ACC (Acute Cancer Center). Basically MD Anderson’s ER for cancer patients. How neat is that? Another reason to love MDA. I was admitted, given bags and bags of antibiotics, and the staff was subjected to me asking if I could go home every few hours. After two nights, I was discharged. I felt good, maybe even great, but they wanted to make sure my numbers were heading in the right direction and that I had at least a fighting chance against one rogue germ.
So yeah, I learned my lesson. For round #2, I masked up early and made sure everyone around me did too, even before my counts dropped. Antibacterial soap and hand sanitizer were out and ready. I wasn’t taking any chances. I found out it’s not uncommon for sarcoma patients to end up in the hospital during chemo because of how aggressive it is, and I wasn’t about to be a repeat guest. And it paid off. I avoided another neutropenic fever and my numbers stayed more stable.
And here we are. Chemo round #3 of 6. I’ve become a full-blown germophobe and avoid standing within six feet of anyone. Is this my own mini-COVID? Or maybe just a convenient excuse to keep my distance from people… kidding (maybe).
There are a few perks, though. I haven’t shaved my legs in over a month. Ladies... Can I recommend chemo?! Chemo gives you the smoothest legs of your life.
So that’s where we are. Halfway through this chemo climb.Thanks for sticking with me. And for everyone checking in, sending love, texting memes, donating, praying, or just reading along. You remind me constantly that I’m not doing this alone.
Until next time… may your immune system be strong, your martinis cold, and your legs smooth.
— Kendra
