The final chemotherapy infusion is today, the last round of 16 treatments that began February 3 and have dominated our lives for the past five months. Last night was the final time to pack up the Cold Caps in their plastic sleeves and place them in the freezer for overnight freezing. This morning is the final time to wheel the ice chest into Market Street at 6am to purchase 50-pounds of dry ice — thank you, Rosa, for your smiling face and consistent kindness! For the last time, I have packed the Cold Caps into the ice chest and the frozen gloves, slippers, and eye masks into the auxiliary ice bag. I have counted the Velcro straps, checked the batteries in the infrared thermometer, and packed the ear muffs and electric blanket.








Carrie-Anne is making her morning shake and we’re getting read to put the numbing cream on her port for the last time. We’ll sit down here in a minute and read from Isaiah and the Psalms and then pray thanksgiving to our God. Then we’ll head to T&T to get donuts for the infusion crew, drive down Garfield and navigate whatever construction there is at the Golf Course Road intersection, and pull into the Allison Cancer Center for the last two shots of the Red Devil.








If you had told us in February exactly how these five months would go, we would have taken it in a blink. By God’s grace, Carrie-Anne’s side effects have been minimal and short-lived. The doctors and nurses here and in Houston have been phenomenal in their care and concern. And our support team of Christian friends and family has been a direct blessing from our Lord.

And Carrie-Anne is a rock star. Seriously. She is inspiring everybody who knows her by her determination, her faith, and her cheerful spirit.

We thank God for his faithfulness to us. He has shown us amazing grace and mercy during this trial. And our hearts are overflowing with gratitude and praise.