🌀Mood: Disappointed. Exhausted. Resilient. Relieved. Still moving.

The afternoon, after my first stem cell collection, I got the call.

The one we had all been waiting for.

The goal was to collect 8–10 million stem cells in one day. My team felt confident. I felt confident. We were rallying around the idea of “one and done.”

So when the phone rang, I answered with hope.

The number was 6.2 million.

And in that moment, my heart sank.

The First Thought

I didn’t cry. I was mad. Disappointed. Frustrated.

Because my very first thought wasn’t about the number.

It was:
More shots. More pain. More exhaustion.

I had pushed through four days of bone pain, fatigue, and emotional swings believing I was almost done.

And suddenly, I wasn’t.

The Weight of Pain Returning

The hardest part isn’t just the extra day of collection.

It’s the pain.

The bone pain from the stimulation shots is no longer coming in waves — it’s becoming constant. Sitting hurts. No chair feels comfortable. Sleep feels impossible even though my body is completely exhausted.

And the pain is in my lower back.

The same place that hurt for five months before my diagnosis.

That familiar ache brings memories I don’t want to revisit.

The sleepless nights.
The confusion.
The frustration of not knowing what was wrong.

I had finally moved past that chapter physically. So feeling that pain again — even for a different reason — has been deeply triggering.

Feeling Like I Let Them Down

I also felt like I let my team down.

They were cheering me on. Believing in one day. Celebrating the strong counts. Talking about “going for gold.”

And 6.2 felt like silver when we were aiming for gold.

But here’s what I’m slowly reminding myself:

6.2 million stem cells in one day is still a strong response.

My body is still doing the work.

This is not failure.

It’s process.

The Reality of This Journey

Cancer doesn’t move according to our timelines.

It doesn’t care about expectations, optimism, or plans.

It unfolds one step at a time — sometimes forward, sometimes slower than we hoped.

Yesterday was a reminder that this journey requires more endurance than speed.

And right now, I am tired.

Physically worn down.
Mentally fatigued.
Emotionally stretched.

But still here.

Still moving.

Still trusting.

More Shots. One More Day.

So today, I take more shots.

I go back for another collection.

Not because something went wrong — but because this is what my body needs.

I wish it were different.

I wish I were done.

But wishing doesn’t change the path.

What I can do is keep showing up.

And that’s what I’ll do.

Choosing to Keep Going

I may not feel strong today.

I may not feel energized.

But I am still determined.

Because every shot, every collection, every uncomfortable moment is moving me closer to transplant.

Closer to remission.

Closer to life on the other side of this chapter.

So no — it wasn’t one and done.

But it’s not the end of the story either.

It’s just one more step forward.

Showing Up Anyway

So yesterday became Day 2 of collection.

I was completely worn out.

Every day, my cousin and I walk to the clinic just to get some movement and fresh air. Yesterday, there was no way. I didn’t have it in me. The exhaustion felt heavy, and the bone pain was constant.

And underneath all of that was worry.

What if my body didn’t produce enough stem cells?
What if I needed a third day?
How would I get through that feeling as bad as I did walking into Day 2?

I couldn’t even imagine it.

But I showed up anyway.

Five Hours and a Quiet Hope

I made it to the clinic tired, nauseous — a new and unwelcome symptom — and unsure how the day would unfold.

Five hours on the collection machine is a long time when your body is already depleted.

But something surprising happened.

I felt better leaving than I did arriving.

Still tired. Still sore. But hopeful.

And then, a few hours later, the phone rang.

The Call

We collected an additional 3.4 million stem cells.

That brought my total to 10.1 million.

Over goal.

I felt relief wash over me.

Not because I needed a perfect number.
Not because I wanted a win.

But because it meant the shots would stop.
The pain would begin to ease.
And my body could finally rest.

What This Week Taught Me

This week didn’t go the way I imagined.

It wasn’t one and done.
It wasn’t smooth.
It wasn’t easy.

But it was enough.

And sometimes, enough is the miracle.

I’m walking away from this part of the journey with something I didn’t expect — a deeper respect for my body’s resilience.

Even when I doubted it.
Even when I was exhausted.
Even when I was afraid it wouldn’t produce what I needed.

It did.

10.1 million reasons to believe my body is still fighting for me.

The Next Step

The shots stop now.

The pain will fade.

And I get a week to recover before the next phase begins.

I know what’s coming.
The nerves are there.
But for today, I’m allowing myself to sit in relief.

This wasn’t the week I planned.

But it was the week I needed.

And I’m still moving forward.