
02/01/2025
After 18 months of intensive frontline treatment- including chemo, over 25 hours in the OR, radiation, isolated MIBG therapy, two bone marrow transplants, and immunotherapy—Emerson transitioned to a two-year maintenance phase. During this period, she swallowed 6,480 tablets of DFMO- a trial medication turned FDA approved during our time on it, aimed at preventing the recurrence of neuroblastoma.
As she takes her final dose, I find myself inundated in a maelstrom of emotions: profound elation tethered by deep-seated apprehension. For two years, DFMO has served as our protective shield against the resurfacing of neuroblastoma. Now, stepping into life without this safeguard, we face uncertainty. Something you think we would be comfortable with by now. 🥴
The adage “better the devil you know than the devil you don’t” resonates, yet in this context, its wisdom feels ambiguous. I’d do almost anything before having to face that devil again…
So as we step into this uncharted chapter—life “after treatment”—I find myself eschewing the notion of returning to a pre-cancer “normal.” The life that existed before Emerson’s cancer has become a distant memory as my perspective has been irrevocably transformed since then.
Though I know I’m not the only one with a heart of tempered steel here. This sentiment is true for many of us and the different fires we’ve been refined by. In the context of my own world, the words by Stuart Scott feel like my own: “You beat cancer by how you live, why you live, and in the manner in which you live.” Our lives are not defined by a return to the past, but by how we choose to move forward, enriched by the new perspectives and insights we’ve collected along the way.. and with that, no matter what the future holds, I’ll always feel like we “beat” cancer.
So here’s to 2025- where we will continue to scan, draw labs and keep a close eye on our girl, but we won’t be tied down by any more treatments or medications. Though the ground here feels a little unstable, I trust the lamp that lights my path.
Thank you to all of you, who have been pillars of support and strength for us. Without your prayers, your love and your generosity the weight of cancer would have felt impossible to bear. Thank you for carrying it alongside us for these last 3.5 years. 💛
Here in 2025, may we all look to heavenly and eternal shields of protection before earthly and temporal ones. May we trust them and believe in their truth no matter the fire before us.
In this next season of time and matter under heaven, I pray the weight of whatever has held you in 2024 slowly releases you into the perfect timing of what 2025 has waiting for you. May we continue (as you have all so graciously done)- to bring heaven here, while we’re here.. one step, one day at a time ✨
Sharing here, December then and December now… both countless little and great steps in between these photos. Some days they were only to the coffee pot and others we made it many miles. Wherever you’re at, just keep taking steps.. one foot, one day at a time. 💛
Happy New Year from our grateful family to yours.
✨🎗️💛