My Journey So Far: A Path of Recovery, Resilience, and Healing

Shortened Version - Bone Marrow Procedure Went Well and Healing Nicely on Schedule per Doctors

It’s hard to believe that three weeks have already passed since my cells were returned to my body. So much of those days have felt like a blur, but there’s also been incredible progress. The shortened version of this update is that I’m back home, recovering as planned, and I’m grateful to be on track regarding the recovery. Still, it hasn’t been a smooth ride—it’s been a journey of intense highs and lows, and I want to share some of the realities of this process, especially for those who may be walking a similar path or supporting someone who is.

Days 1-7: A Glimmer of Normalcy

After my cells were returned, the first few days were surprisingly normal. I felt well enough to enjoy meals, hydrate, and spend time in the Hope Lodge while under quarantine. These days were refreshing, and for a moment, I almost felt like myself again. It was the calm before the storm, and I took full advantage of the opportunity to rest and recharge. Sport and I enjoyed some of the sites surrounding the University of Minnesota and took walks as long as I had the energy.

Days 8-11: The Darkest Days

However, the next few days were a stark contrast. Days 8 through 11 were the hardest I’ve faced so far. The chemotherapy had taken its toll on my body, and the process of my cells re-grafting was draining. I was exhausted—so much so that getting out of bed and getting dressed felt like monumental tasks. Some days, I couldn’t even walk to the clinic, and I needed Sport to push me in a wheelchair to my appointments. The nausea was horrible and thank goodness they give you three different medications to help with this side-effect.

I was fortunate to have incredible nurses at the UoM, who reassured me that everything was progressing as it should. They reminded me to be patient with my body, to hydrate, and to rest, allowing my body the time it needed to heal. Still, those days were incredibly dark, and at times, I wondered how much more I could take. At the time, you have to dig deep and focus on the end goal - remission. Sport was an amazing nursemaid and took care of me throughout the entire time and I know without him I wouldn’t have been able to get through those days since I could barely get from bed to bathroom.

A Hard Goodbye: The Moment My Hair Fell Out

Just when I thought I was beginning to recover—feeling better, able to eat and drink without nausea—another emotional moment hit. On Day 12, my hair started to fall out in clumps. While I had been mentally prepared for it to happen around Day 14, it still felt like a shock. I had known this was coming, but seeing my hair come out so quickly, unexpectedly, sent me to the floor in tears. It wasn’t just about the physical change—it was the realization that this was part of the price my body was paying to heal, to fight.

But like everything else in this journey, you get back up. You keep moving forward. It was a painful moment, but I chose to put my mind and body to work harder so I could get out of the Lodge and back home to my own bed. Being at home with my kids and dogs felt like a beacon of hope—what I had been working toward through every difficult moment.

A Return Home: The Final Hurdle

By Day 14, I received the good news: I could finally leave the Hope Lodge and recover from home. But before I could fully settle in, there was one last medical hurdle to cross—removal of the central line. Thankfully, my team at UoM moved quickly to schedule the procedure, and two days later, I was free of the tubes that had been a constant reminder of this long process. With that final step behind me, I could finally imagine what life might look like without those physical reminders of treatment, and the idea of a normal shower again felt like a small victory.

The Long Road Ahead: Slowing Down to Heal

Now that I’m back home, I’m reminded every day that recovery is a marathon, not a sprint. I still have moments of fatigue—particularly since I’m still anemic—and every day tasks often feel like they take more energy than I have. My to-do list has a way of piling up, and I’m learning to listen to my body and slow down when I need to. Things I could easily do are not achievable at this point-in-time so cleaning lady hired and I reached out to our friends to help Sport with final preparations before winter hits Minnesota. It’s not easy, but I’m learning to be patient with myself. The process of regenerating new bone marrow is slow, and I’m still on this long path of recovery.

Looking ahead, I have my 28-day appointment with my UoM doctors next week, where we’ll discuss the next phase of my recovery. I’m also keeping my eye on the 100-day mark, where I’ll have another round of tests, including a PET scan and a bone marrow biopsy. These results, due in February 2025, will give us a clearer picture of where I stand and what the future holds. The goal but the 2024 diagnosis of “Stage 3 Multiple Myeloma” in the past and a new optimistic diagnosis “Remission” for 2025.

While there’s still a long way to go, I’m feeling hopeful. I’ve come so far already, and I know that, step by step, I’ll keep moving forward.

Final Thoughts: The Importance of the Journey

I’ve learned a lot about myself over these past few weeks—about strength, vulnerability, patience, and resilience. There have been incredibly tough days, but I’ve also felt the warmth of the support around me, from the incredible healthcare team at UoM to the love and care of my family and friends. Through all the ups and downs, I’m reminded that cancer treatment isn’t a straight line. It’s a journey, and while there are valleys, there are also peaks, moments of clarity and gratitude that make the hard days worth it.

Thank you to everyone who has followed along and supported me. I still have a long road ahead, but I know I’m not walking it alone.

Love from MN - Andrea