I am humbled and honored to be invited to represent A Celebration for Life because they support two things I’m most passionate about, support for cancer warriors and their families, and creating opportunities for kids.
My journey began in December of 2019, when after a full day teaching high school, I came home and collapsed on the couch. I had been doing the circuit of doctors and specialists trying to figure out the cause of my fatigue and flu-like symptoms.
When my husband, Jeff, came home from work, we went to the emergency room, hoping to finally figure out what was going on. I was diagnosed with some kind of leukemia and quickly transported to the Penn State Cancer Center in Hershey. My ambulance attendant for the ride was a dear former student.
There, I was so blessed to fall into the care of Dr. Myles Nicolich, whom along with Jeff, I credit with my survival. A finer doctor and human being has never walked the halls of a hospital. At Hershey I was diagnosed with B cell acute lymphoblastic leukemia, Philadelphia positive, an especially challenging genetic mutation, and immediately my battle began.
The doctor who explained my diagnosis said it’s normally not one you want to hear. But, there had been some remarkable advancements just out of trial, that created some positive options.
I was among the first at Hershey to receive TKI therapy along with standard chemotherapy. TKI therapy comes in pill form, has generally few side effects, and blocks the genetic mutation that causes my leukemia. Standard protocol at the time of my illness was intense chemo followed by a bone marrow transplant. As many of you know, the transplant itself is harrowing. My doctor advocated strongly on my behalf to think beyond a transplant. I am happy to be here today representing the success of current chemo and TKI therapy.
In spite of brutal inpatient chemo, many complications, multiple blood transfusions weekly, and weakness that kept me in a wheelchair, I came through the first year as a battered survivor. That was followed by 3 years of maintenance chemo. Kind of a two steps forward one step back experience.
I’m grateful to be speaking today on the recovery side of my journey, not just a cancer survivor, but a cancer thriver. For every person on this planet, the only guarantee we have is each moment. Being a cancer thriver means that today, in this moment, I am going to live the very best that I can.
My cancer battle brought me opportunities and experiences that continue to flood my heart with joy daily. I found an army of support I didn’t know I had. Kindness and compassion from strangers showed up in wonderful unexpected places. I got to experience my husband’s endless compassion and support.
I can share from my soul what it’s like to fight cancer, but I can also share from my soul what it’s like to have it take a loved one.
I consider myself the most fortunate person in the world to have lived in the light and the love of my husband, Jeff Landis. He was the most loving, unselfish, altruistic person I’ve ever known and I don’t think I could have continued to put one foot in front of the other through the worst times without him by my side. When my difficult induction chemo ended, and I began regaining strength, he took early retirement so he and I could spend months on the road exploring.
As my maintenance treatments were winding down, and I continued making great progress regaining my strength, my husband experienced difficulty swallowing. A few doctors appointments and an MRI showed us stage 4 esophageal cancer.
We researched like mad and found a trial. He was randomly selected, had initial success, but quickly had growth in his metastasized liver tumors. We found another trial and a wonderful doctor, Dr. Calabrese, willing to administer it locally. I still think had we started this earlier, it may have stopped his cancer. But, it was too advanced. He passed away 6 months after his diagnosis, in December of 2022.
I had once told him, well before he got sick, “there aren’t enough days left in my life to repay you for everything you’ve done for me”. And near the end he told me when I was at my sickest, hospitalized in the Intensive Care Unit, that he dropped to his knees and begged God to take him instead of me. He was grateful that I had the opportunity to live for both of us.
My battle with leukemia and the compromise of my health was devastating. The loss of my beloved husband was so much worse. I knew my journey through grief was going to be brutal and never ending. I had choices to make.
Jeff and I had the opportunity to talk about what comes next. He insisted that I live for both of us, and continue to fulfill the dream we had of long travel in our rv. He asked me to spread his ashes in all of the beautiful places we had visited together, and all the beautiful places I found myself.
And so I did. In May of 2023 my little dog Rosie and I embarked on a solo journey that took me north through Canada’s Maritime Provinces, west across Canada, north to the Yukon and Alaska, south along Canada’s spectacular western coastline, through our beautiful national parks as far south as Death Valley.
I cried, I sang, I drove 32,000 miles over seven months, and I met people everyday, mostly an army of single women traveling alone because they weren’t going to wait for somebody to join them, who shared their journeys through life and loss and rising from the ashes. It was cathartic. I flew home mid trip to celebrate my last round of maintenance chemo with all the angels on earth that helped me through.
I cannot think of a more inspiring, profoundly beautiful way to process my grief and honor my husband. There aren’t many iconic spots in all of North America where his ashes don’t rest.
Since then I’ve been checking things off my bucket list. I’ve had the opportunity to travel extensively both in North America and internationally on solo trips that really aren’t because I’ve made many friends along the way. I joined our local ski club, made wonderful friendships and gained skiing buddies.
I now claim 47,000 of the miles on my faithful 2005 24′ motorhome and every single day has been spectacular. Before leukemia ended my career, I was technology education teacher for 37 years. I my husband and I planned and chaperoned dozens of summer science and service trips for kids. I’ve been sharing with people recently that I was searching for an opportunity to serve kids, as I had before cancer. And then this opportunity showed up. It couldn’t be a better fit.
