One Day at a Time
It’s been a little while since I’ve written here. Cancer has a way of throwing curveballs—things you never see coming, no matter how prepared you think you are.
Most recently, I underwent an open adrenalectomy on January 27th to remove a tumor from my adrenal gland. I’m incredibly grateful that the surgery was limited to just the gland and tumor, without involving any other organs. Even so, it took a lot out of me. I’m just now starting to feel like I’ve truly recovered from that procedure.
That surgery came on the heels of something even more intense—three craniotomies that happened almost back-to-back. Originally, I was scheduled for procedures on March 11th and 12th, but things took a turn when I became seriously ill and had to go to the emergency department on March 4th. My first surgery ended up being on March 6th, followed by additional surgeries on the 9th and 10th.
Recovery has been a process, to say the least. Altogether, I spent 32 days in the hospital. I made it home just in time to spend Easter with my family—something I don’t take for granted—and enjoy a small but meaningful moment of normalcy.
Post-surgery, I temporarily lost the ability to lift my left arm and move my left leg. That led to 10 days of inpatient rehabilitation, which was a critical part of my hospital stay. Now, in my early 30s, I find myself using a four-wheel walker and a brace on my left foot just to get around safely. It’s humbling, and at times frustrating, but I’m holding onto hope that with continued outpatient physical therapy, I can regain more independence in the weeks ahead.
Right now, my days require structure and discipline—working on cognitive and speech exercises at home, staying consistent with physical therapy, and doing everything I can to support my recovery.
There is a silver lining in all of this: four large tumors were successfully removed from my brain. That’s a meaningful step forward. But the reality remains that cancer is still present—in my lungs and in my brain. This journey is far from over.
That’s been one of the hardest truths to sit with—how much of this is outside of my control. So I’m doing my best to stay grounded in what is in front of me. My focus is on the here and now: getting strong enough to enjoy the spring and summer in whatever ways I can. I want to golf again. I want to camp, kayak, fish, and spend time with friends. Being outdoors has always been a huge part of who I am, so having my mobility impacted has been bittersweet.
If I have any takeaway right now—maybe more for myself than anyone else—it’s this: take things one day at a time, one problem at a time. There’s no one-size-fits-all approach to cancer, especially in a case like mine. Each part of my body requires a different strategy, a different level of attention. It takes patience, energy, and a willingness to adapt.
More than anything, I’m grateful. Grateful for the people in my life who continue to show up for me—my family, my friends, my support system. I wouldn’t be getting through this without them.
That’s all I have for now. I just wanted to share a quick update for anyone who’s still following along.
As always, take care of yourself—and be good to others.
