Embracing Normal

On October 14, 2026October 14, 2026 By HschichieIn blogLeave a comment

During COVID, I found a place to swim outside.

I could book a lane for an hour and just swim. When the world seemed so unknown, I knew that for one hour, I could submerge myself in a pool and swim.

It became my solace. My place.

As I swam, day after day, week after week, I watched the seasons change until the world slowly opened up again. And things became normal.

I found myself back at this pool this week.

Somehow, the seasons had moved from summer to fall. The leaves were orange and gold. A squirrel had found a pumpkin.

A very noisy nest of birds was preparing for a migratory trip.

And the light.

That brilliant autumnal light, peeking through the trees and dancing across the water.

It was magic.

And I swam.

And life felt normal. More normal than it had felt in a while.

And I was grateful.

I am hoping that normal is the direction we are headed. And right now, things seem to be pointing that way.

Cynde had chemo on Friday. Before each infusion, she meets with her gynecologic oncologist. They draw blood, review numbers, and assess how things are progressing.

In summary, everything is moving in the right direction.

Her white blood cell count looked good. So good, in fact, that she didn’t need the evil/helpful/prickly little med fairy to rattle her bones.

We are looking at just one more round of chemo.

Cynde feeling good with her Suzzipads.

And…

They are weaning her off TPN.

This one is big.

Really big.

It means fewer tubes, less reliance on the central line, more sleep for Cynde and Pops, and a return to something a bit more normal.

Because eating. Eating actual food. Is kind of normal.

And I say normal knowing full well that this family is anything but normal.

The last two decades have taught us to tread lightly when it comes to normal. We’ve learned that normal can be fleeting. That life can change in an instant. That sometimes the things we take for granted are the very things we find ourselves longing for.

But those same two decades have also taught us something else.

To embrace the normal. Embrace the Phews football games, marvel at how tall, strong and stinky they are. Laugh loudly with friends. Notice a pat on the tushie from your Hubs. It is all love. It is all life.

Embrace it fully.

Embrace it with a hug that wraps both arms around you and gives you slightly uncomfortable, full-lipped kiss.

And if you know this family, you know that hug and kiss.

Embrace it.

What Cancer Cannot Do:

On September 30, 2026September 30, 2026 By HschichieIn blogLeave a comment

Cynde continues to battle a cough and the remnants of a cold, and she would really, really like to feel better. So here is a reminder of what cancer cannot invade, shatter, silence, suppress……

Stupid cancer.

And along the way, we are learning some things.

We learned that the little Med Fairy that attached herself to Cynde’s arm and flew away 72 hours later has the potential to be quite disruptive.

Unbeknownst to us.

If you remember my last post, the Med Fairy was there to inject a drug that stimulates white blood cell production. Chemo can wreak havoc on your immune system, so white blood cells are needed, wanted and celebrated.

But the matter of HOW this little fairy stimulates that production—and the potential side effects—was never really discussed.

This is not the Med Fairy’s fault. She was just doing her Med Fairy job.

And I don’t want to blame anyone on Cynde’s care team.

But perhaps this is a learning moment.

Perhaps.

White blood cells are produced deep within the marrow of your bones. After Cynde got her poke from the Med Fairy, she said:

“It feels like there is an electric shock going through my bones. It is scary and painful.”

Well.

Neither scary nor painful sounds particularly good.

“How are you feeling?”

“I am scared and in pain.”

No bueno.

Turns out, the Med Fairy was doing exactly what she was supposed to do. The medication was stimulating white blood cell production, which again, are produced deep in your bones.

And what we didn’t know was that significant bone pain can happen with these medications.

Or—perhaps more importantly—that there are things her care team may recommend to help manage it, including, in some cases, Claritin.

A couple of days later, her electric bones stopped firing.

And her white blood cell count was great.

BUT…

The process might not have been quite so scary—or felt quite so overwhelming—if we had been armed with a little more knowledge about what might happen.

Because pain is one thing.

Pain you weren’t expecting, when you already have cancer, is something else entirely.

Expectations are hard on this journey.

And maybe I’ll just leave that here.

Approximately ten more days until the next round.

Beware, little Med Fairy.

We got your number…..and A LOT of Claritin.

How Far We Have Come

On September 19, 2026September 19, 2026 By HschichieIn blog4 Comments

Happy Saturday, dear Tribe!

Cynde had her first round of chemo post-surgery yesterday and, so far, so good. Everything is moving in the right direction.

Sometimes it feels like things are moving slowly in the right direction, but the right direction is good. Very, very good. And we will keep holding onto that.

Science is pretty cool.

The advancements being made in cancer therapies continue to astound us and fill us with gratitude. Chemotherapy is pretty harsh stuff. It is designed to kill cancer cells, but that also means the whole body can feel the effects.

When we think of chemotherapy, we tend to think of days of intense nausea, not being able to keep food down, and the whole body becoming weaker as it battles not only cancer but the side effects of treatment.

But as the science of killing cancer has advanced, so has the science of taking care of the whole body while doing it.

Cynde is on some pretty powerful anti-nausea drugs designed not only to calm the Tum but also to help stimulate her appetite and help her sleep — all pretty important things when your whole body is fighting some terrible cancer.

Chemo can also cause peripheral neuropathy — damage to sensory, motor, and autonomic nerves.

We watched Ryan suffer from increasing neuropathy, and it affected his ability to walk, eat, hold things, and balance. It’s difficult to rely on your feet to move you through the world when you can’t feel them.

Fortunately, cooling gloves and socks are now being used during certain chemotherapy treatments to try to reduce the risk and severity of neuropathy. And apparently, they also feel kind of nice on your hands and feet.

Cynde went with Suzzipads.

We kind of like the name, too. 🙂

Cynde and the Suzzipads at the infusion center.

And then yesterday, after chemo, a nurse came in and put a patch on Cynde’s arm.

This patch is basically a tiny infusion robot. It hangs out on her arm for about 27 hours after chemo and then gives her a little needle prick and delivers medication that helps boost her white blood cell production, making it easier for her body to fight infection during the time after chemo when those counts can drop.

Once the medication has been delivered, its job is done.

It’s like a little med fairy that hangs out on your arm, gives you a boost, and then goes on its way.

Cynde and her med fairy.

As we move into this chapter of recovery and next steps, it’s easy to get impatient. To want to feel better right now. To yearn for life to return to something resembling “normal.”

I say that without pretending to know what Cynde is really going through or what it feels like to be in her body right now.

But personally, I really look forward to the day when cancer doesn’t take up quite so much space.

When Pops and Nonnie can talk about their next vacation instead of infusion therapies.

When appointments aren’t the things around which everything else gets scheduled.

When life gets to be boring again.

Until then, we will keep moving in the right direction — even when it feels slow.

And we will be grateful for science, med fairies…

and Suzzipads. 🙂

Walking

On August 28, 2026August 28, 2026 By HschichieIn blog8 Comments

I write to you today with a head full of introspection and gratitude. Bear with me as I pontificate a bit. 🙂

It’s always a funny thing, driving onto the Anschutz Medical Campus.

For our family, this place holds a lot of history.

This is where Samantha received so much of her care. It’s where brilliant doctors tried to understand a little girl’s complicated mitochondrial disease and where we learned words and acronyms we never wanted to know.

Years later, this is where Ryan came for answers and care as mitochondrial disease began taking more and more from him.

And now, it’s where Cynde is fighting cancer.

So yeah…driving onto this campus hits a little differently for me.

Anschutz is a busy hub of people who are really sick. Behind almost every window is a family waiting, hoping for good news, sitting beside someone they love or trying to figure out what comes next.

But that’s only part of the story.

It’s also a busy hub of researchers searching for answers to some of the most complex diseases — cancer, mitochondrial disease, ALS, epilepsy and so many others.

It’s a place where thousands of doctors, nurses, researchers, therapists, techs and caregivers come to work every day and say, essentially, Let’s see what we can do.

There is something incredibly hopeful about that.

Maybe that’s why I always feel a tad nostalgic, weepy, hopeful and proud when I drive onto Anschutz.

Our family has experienced some of its hardest days here.

But we’ve also experienced extraordinary care here. We’ve watched people fight like hell for the people we love. We’ve benefited from science, research, medicine and people who have devoted their lives to making someone else’s impossible situation a little more possible.

Yesterday, they did that for Cynde.

Cynde did not have a great night last night.

She had some nausea, it took a while to get her settled into her bed, and someone checked on her about every 15 minutes.

BUT…

It was so much better than having a terrible night because she was in terrible pain. Or because her vitals were out of whack. Or because, because, because.

A very complex surgery went well.

Today looks good.

And I am grateful.

This morning, they laid out a plan for her to do some walking.

I thought, Well, that seems pretty aggressive considering you pillaged her belly yesterday.

But who am I to judge?

Here is Cynde, walking the hallways less than 24 hours post-pillaging.

And Pops and I got to complete the puzzle.

And today I am so stinkin’ grateful.

Grateful for an amazing surgical team.

Grateful that Cynde decided, from the very beginning, to face this head-on. That she decided she could do hard things.

Rest with a good blankey post walk!

Grateful that Pops has a little spark back in his eyes.

I will not lie to you. This has been hard.

I am grateful for good friends, a good therapist and a good hubs who held me as I kind of lost it — as I said out loud that this was way too much for my family. Way too much for me. As I looked to the universe and pleaded for just a pause in the trauma.

Maybe that’s part of gratitude, too.

It doesn’t mean pretending the hard things aren’t hard. It doesn’t mean we aren’t tired or scared or sometimes really, really angry about what life has handed us.

Maybe it just means recognizing the moments when the weight gets a little lighter.

Cynde still has a hill to climb. This is the beginning of a new chapter, not the end of the story. Her body needs to heal. We still have more rounds of chemo ahead, and then we will reassess.

But today?

Today feels like we can breathe a little.

Kiss the Phews on their stinky heads.

Walk the dog.

Laugh a little louder.

Finish a puzzle.

And revel in the seemingly ordinary miracle of walking the hospital hallways less than 24 hours after a very complex belly pillaging.

Today, I am so stinkin’ grateful.

Thank you, dear Tribe, for continuing to walk with us. ❤️

Mid-Day Update:

On August 27, 2026August 27, 2026 By HschichieIn blog2 Comments

Hello Dear Tribe:

We are six hours into this process, and things are looking good.

The surgeon came out and talked to us while the team was bathing Cynde’s abdomen in a nice, warm chemo wash. We have about two more hours to go before she is in recovery, but so far, so good.

Here is what we know…

Her cancer was pretty aggressive and had set up shop throughout her belly. The oncology team removed her ovaries, uterus, omentum, appendix and part of her large intestine. They also spent about an hour carefully looking for small tumors and zapping them with what I am calling their anti-tumor gun.

There are still a few tiny pockets of cancer cells that need to be evicted. We are hopeful the chemo wash today, along with her ongoing chemotherapy, will take care of those remaining areas.

How are we feeling?

Mostly, we are anxiously waiting for the surgery to be over and for Cynde to be safely resting in recovery.

But we also feel incredibly grateful that these first six hours have gone about as well as they could have. There were no unexpected surprises, and when we asked the surgeon how she felt about the outcome so far, she used one very important word:

“Optimal.”

Here’s to optimal.

We will take optimal ALL DAY LONG.

I will update everyone as soon as she is out of surgery and in recovery.

Next Steps

On August 14, 2026August 14, 2026 By HschichieIn blog1 Comment

Happy Friday, dear Tribe!

Please forgive another quick update, but I wanted to put everyone’s minds at ease so you can go enjoy the weekend. ❤️

We got good news today.

The surgical consult went well, and Cynde’s team is happy and optimistic about how she has responded to this first round of chemo. Most importantly, they feel good about moving forward with surgery.

Surgery is scheduled for Aug. 27 at 7:30 a.m. at Anschutz Medical Center in Aurora. It is expected to take six to seven hours, depending on what the surgical team finds. The current plan includes a full hysterectomy, with the possibility of removing additional intestinal tissue if necessary.

After surgery, Cynde will spend some time in a higher level of care — somewhere between a traditional hospital room and the ICU — so they can keep a close eye on her. Her total hospital stay is expected to be about four to seven days.

Recovery will take some time. She won’t be able to drive for at least a couple of weeks, depending on how she is healing and whether she is still taking pain medication. We are also hopeful that surgery will allow her to begin transitioning back to a regular diet.

In September, she’ll begin three more rounds of chemo.

If that sounds like a lot, it is.

But here is the part we are holding onto: Her team is very optimistic. This is the path they hoped she would be able to take, and they believe this is the best treatment plan moving forward.

So tonight, we are grateful. Grateful the chemo did its job. Grateful there is a plan. Grateful for an incredible medical team. And incredibly grateful for all of you who continue to surround Cynde and Pops with so much love.

One step at a time.

And remember…

We can do hard things.

Much love ❤️

Forward

On August 1, 2026August 1, 2026 By HschichieIn blog4 Comments

Franklin D. Roosevelt once said, “There are many ways of moving forward, but only one way of standing still.”

Forward looks different these days.

Sometimes it’s healing. Sometimes it’s better lab results. Sometimes it’s walking the dog or having lunch with friends.

Forward isn’t always dramatic. Sometimes it’s simply finding a little more normal in the middle of the storm.

On Monday, Cynde will complete her third and final round in this first set of chemotherapy. The second treatment went really well, and we are incredibly grateful for anti-nausea medications and TPN, which continues to give her stomach the chance to rest and heal.

The nutrition pump is giving us good news, too. Her infusion time has been reduced from 18 hours a day to just 12, and her team adjusted the formula to provide a little more protein and calories.

The pump still has a personality of its own. It can be a bit persnickety, demanding attention with the occasional beep that always seems to happen at the least convenient time. But we are so thankful for what it makes possible. Without TPN, this journey would look very different.

Forward.

After this round of chemo, Cynde will have another CT scan so her medical team can see how well the treatments have worked. From there, they’ll begin planning surgery, with the extent of the procedure depending on what the scan reveals.

At her last oncology appointment, the doctors shared that her blood work looks really good and the chemotherapy is doing exactly what they hoped it would.

Nice work, Chemo.

Life, thankfully, continues alongside doctor’s appointments and infusion pumps.

Both Pops and Cynde have been reconnecting with friends. The photo above was taken during a lunch outing where Cynde was able to enjoy real food—a milestone that felt worth celebrating. She has also embraced a new hairdo thanks to a good wig and a great stylist.

Forward also meant taking Ryan’s service dog, Coulie, out for a walk. As soon as Coulie saw the walker, something clicked. He slipped right back into service dog mode, as if no time had passed at all.

Dogs remember.

The rest of us are moving forward, too.

The Phews are making the most of what’s left of summer, although it’s hard to believe school starts in just a couple of weeks. Nothing says “moving forward” quite like watching a passel of teenage boys wrestle in the pool, consume second and third breakfasts, or argue over the best NFL team. Looking back at where this summer began and where we are today is almost mind-blowing.

We know there is still surgery ahead. There are still unknowns.

But today, we celebrate forward.

Because forward doesn’t always mean you’ve reached the finish line.

Sometimes it simply means you’re still moving.

And right now, that’s more than enough.

Break Out

On July 13, 2026July 13, 2026 By HschichieIn blog4 Comments

Happy Sunday, dear tribe!

I apologize for the late update. I escaped to Grand Junction this weekend with my sister-in-law and my Phews. Colorado has been hot and smoky, so we escaped to dear friends with a pool, a movie room, and what may be the world’s most powerful air conditioner.

Little did I know that while I was breaking out for the weekend, Cynde and Pops were planning their own jailbreak.

The weekend got off to a rather exciting start.

On Thursday morning I got a voicemail:

“Call us! We’ve had an exciting morning!”

I reminded them that details are important. Given the “excitement” we’ve had over the past month, I now end every conversation with, “May this appointment be really boring and uneventful.”

Excitement is a tad loaded for me. 😊

Thursday’s plan was simple. Cynde was scheduled to have a chemo port placed. It’s a fairly routine procedure that takes about an hour and makes future chemotherapy treatments much easier.

Except…

The night before, her TPN pump decided to go on strike. It stopped delivering the nutrition and hydration her body depends on. Since her nutrition is infused over an 18-hour period, missing eight hours is a pretty big deal. It throws everything off, including blood pressure and lab work.

Sure enough, when they arrived, Cynde’s blood pressure was too low to safely do the procedure.

Now what?

Chemo was scheduled for Friday, and without a port everyone assumed that plan was about to change.

While the doctors and nurses discussed their options, Pops asked a simple question.

“If she already has a central line, why can’t the chemo go through that?”

The room got quiet.

Great question, Pops.

After a few minutes of discussion, the team agreed. There really wasn’t a reason to place another line right now.

Victory!

One less procedure. One less opportunity for infection. And chemo could stay on schedule.

Cynde and Pops headed happily toward the parking lot.

They were halfway there when both of their phones started buzzing.

“Come back.”

“Your blood pressure is too low.”

“Please report to the emergency department.”

Fiddlesticks.

They dutifully headed to the ER and began the process of getting checked in.

Except…they really didn’t need another hospital admission.

What Cynde needed was a little nutrition, a working TPN pump, and some time for her body to catch up.

So they made an executive decision.

They broke out of the emergency room and went for an ice cream cone.

To be fair, “breaking out” was really more like:

“We don’t think we need to be here. We’re going to get an ice cream cone.”

Rebels.

The good news is that Friday’s chemo went much better than the first round, and for that we are incredibly grateful.

The chemo cocktail includes dexamethasone, a steroid that helps reduce nausea while providing a little extra energy and appetite. She may feel pretty good for a couple of days before the fatigue catches up.

But that’s tomorrow. Don’t borrow trouble from tomorrow.

Celebrate today.

If today is a day for an ice cream cone, eat the ice cream cone.

Tomorrow will take care of itself.

Today, we’re simply grateful.

Rebels.

Gettin’ Wiggy With It

On July 7, 2026July 7, 2026 By HschichieIn blog6 Comments

There is a quote that floats around the internet that says something like, “Losing my hair didn’t make me feel beautiful. It made me feel like a cancer patient.” I imagine that’s true for many people. Hair loss isn’t just about hair. It’s another reminder that cancer has arrived, and it announces itself to the world before you’re ready.

So here we go…..

This is a busy week for Cynde and Pops. On Thursday she’ll have her chemo port placed, and on Friday she’ll head back for another round of chemotherapy. Nurses continue to come and go, monitoring blood sugar, TPN, and her central line, but everything is moving in the right direction, the direction that gives her body the best chance to be as healthy and as strong as possible for treatment.

Tomorrow, Cynde meets with her hair stylist to talk about what comes next.

She’s always said she doesn’t want a wig.

But I also think we have an opportunity to have a little fun with this, because, Lordy…we could all use a little fun.

So we decided to imagine a few possibilities.

The Basics

What if we just embraced it? No wig. No pretending. Just Cynde- beautiful, striking, and strong. Add a colorful scarf, a cute hat, some fabulous earrings, and let her smile do the rest.

Then We Got a Little Creative…

#1 Soft Pixie #2 Sleek Bob

#3 Textured Pixie #4 Soft Layered Bob

And Then…Well…Things Got a Little Crazy.

The best part?

When you’re getting a little “wiggy with it,” you can be whoever you want to be. Cher one day. Meg Ryan the next. Maybe even Dolly Parton if the mood strikes. Whatever makes you laugh. Whatever makes you feel fabulous. Whatever helps you forget, even for a moment, why you’re wearing it in the first place.

This week is another big step in this journey. We’d love your healing thoughts, prayers, good vibes, and positive energy as Cynde heads into another round of chemo.

And if you have a favorite look from our little fashion show…feel free to vote.

Thanks, dear Tribe. ❤️

Happy Independence Day, Dear Tribe!

On July 4, 2026July 4, 2026 By HschichieIn blog3 Comments

We wish you a safe, joyful, and festive Fourth of July.

The word independence is a funny one, isn’t it?

Its meaning changes as we grow and as life changes around us. Over the last fourteen years, I’ve watched my Phews become more independent—venturing farther from home, trying new things, and seeing the world through their own eyes. Their independence is exciting, and every day they stretch its boundaries just a little farther.

This past week, independence looked very different.

It looked like coming home.

It looked like sleeping in your own bed, hearing the sounds of your own house instead of the constant buzz of monitors, nurses, and doctors coming and going. It looked like reclaiming a little piece of normal after weeks of uncertainty.

Sometimes independence isn’t about doing more. Sometimes it’s about simply being where your heart wants to be.

Cynde is finally home, carrying a blue backpack that delivers eighteen hours of nutrition each day through her central line. Funny how backpacks are with us through so many seasons of life and through independence. Backpacks take us to school, on adventures around the world, and, in this case, they brought her home.

Of course, no blue backpack of such importance could remain unnamed for long. The Phews and their cousins immediately got to work. Current favorites include:

• Violet Beauregard
• Smurfette
• Bluey McBlueface
• R2-Blue
• Marvin
• Mr. Drippy
• Percy the Pump

The debate continues, so if you’ve got a great name, we’d love to hear it!

Meanwhile, Jim, also known as Papa and my stepdad, celebrated a little independence of his own this week with a brand-new knee. Sometimes we have to take one step back so we can take many more steps forward; this time without pain.

Our bodies are incredible. And so is the medical science that helps us keep living the lives we want to live for as long as we can.

So today we’re celebrating many kinds of independence: a new knee, a blue backpack, the comfort of home, and the hope that tomorrow brings just a little more freedom than yesterday.

Happy Independence Day, everyone. ❤️🤍💙