To my dear friends, family, and prayer warriors,

I wanted to take a moment to share an update on where things stand with my health. Lately, I’ve been reflecting on the verse, “But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength”(Isaiah 40:31). Sometimes, waiting feels like the hardest part of the battle, especially when the path forward isn’t a straight line.

The Complexity of the Diagnosis
As many of you know, I am navigating a rare blood cancer called Myelofibrosis. It’s a complex disease where the bone marrow develops scarring (fibrosis), making it hard for the body to produce healthy blood.

Recently, the doctors ran a specific calculation called the MYSEC-PM score. On paper, my score is currently low risk for certain long-term outcomes. While that sounds like a relief, the reality inside my body feels very different. My spleen has grown to nearly 18cm, and my inflammation markers and cell turnover (LDH) are very high. This is why I struggle with profound fatigue, lightheadedness, and shortness of breath every single day.

The Reality of the Shift
I’ll be honest: lately, I have struggled with feeling dismissed because of a statistical risk score. When a chart says low risk, but your body feels like it’s failing, it’s easy to feel like you’re losing your mind. But the physical reality is clear. In 2019, my bone marrow biopsy showed no scarring. Today, I am in an overt fibrotic phase with intermediate scarring.

That isn’t just a number, it’s a physical change in my body. My marrow is being replaced by scar tissue, which is why my spleen has grown and my LDH levels (a marker of cell damage) are over 600. The shortness of breath and exhaustion I feel are real, physical symptoms of a disease that has progressed. I’ve had to realize that I’m not crazy, I’m fighting a very real and evolving cancer.

The Emotional Roller Coaster
I went into my recent appointments at UAMS mentally and spiritually prepared to move forward with a transplant. I had braced myself for the big battle, gathered my courage, and was ready to say let’s go to the only known cure.

When I heard that low score and not right now for the transplant, I felt like a fraud. I felt deflated and frustrated, as if I had made a big deal out of nothing. I started questioning everything, the money raised, the support shown, and the tears shed. I felt like an imposter because I wasn’t in a hospital bed today, even though my body feels the weight of this disease every hour.

But in talking with my family and friends, I realized something vital, a low score on a chart doesn’t erase the spleen, the LDH, or the shortness of breath that stops me in my tracks. You all reminded me that this is still a cancer, it is still a battle, and it is still a journey toward a cure. You helped me see that the support isn’t for a single moment of crisis, but for the entire marathon. I’ve had to learn to be kind to myself and remember that being stable for now doesn’t mean I’m not fighting a serious war.

Steps Taken and the Road Ahead
A stem cell transplant remains the only potential cure, and we are officially preparing the way. I have already completed two critical baseline tests:

• Pulmonary Function Tests: To ensure my lungs are strong enough for the road ahead.
• Nuclear Medicine Heart Scan: A detailed look at my heart’s strength to ensure it can handle future treatment.

With those tests behind me, the hospital is now officially putting me into the national database to find a potential stem cell donor. This is a huge step. We aren’t rushing into surgery today, but we are finding my match now so that we are ready the moment the window opens.

A New Season of Treatment
In the meantime, I am starting a new targeted medication called Momelotinib. Our prayer is that this medicine will calm the storm, shrinking my spleen, improving my blood counts, and giving me back the breath and energy I’ve been missing.

Why Your Support Matters
I’ll be honest: there are days when I feel like a fraud because I’m not in a hospital bed today. But then I remember that a marathon is won in the miles of training, not just at the finish line. Your prayers, your donations, and your encouragement are the provisions for this long middle stretch. You are helping me prepare for a transplant that is a matter of when, not if.

Thank you for standing in the gap with me. We are trusting that God is the Great Physician, and that He is guiding the hands of the doctors at UAMS as we navigate these tests and new medications.