It’s been a while since I’ve done an update on the blog, though I’ve sent out notes in my newsletter, so I thought I should take a moment to do that, now that I’m through the first six infusions.

I’ll admit it–they’ve been worse than I was hoping and praying. Not nearly as bad as full chemo, don’t get me wrong–but not great. I know I shared how my heart sank at my first infusion, when they, first of all, called it “chemo,” while in my head I’d been thinking of it as a blocker treatment more than an aggressive one, and then when they gave me all the anti-nausea pre-meds and refilled my Zofran. Well, as it turns out, I’m particularly prone to nausea with this cocktail. =/

Up until the fifth infusion, I was experiencing about 10-11 days of nausea, five of which also saw me fairly exhausted. Not ideal–given that my treatments are 21-days apart, that meant that half of my time was spent feeling fairly lousy. I had to write my Guideposts book, Secrets by Sea, during one of those stretches of icky, which wasn’t fun. Zero stars, do not recommend. 😉 I pushed through, though, and got it done…and was all relief when my editors came back and called it “nearly perfect.” Phew! But you can be sure I planned the writing of my next book, the one due to Tyndale around Easter (currently entitled The Memory of Freedom, though that could yet change), to NOT fall during a post-infusion week! (I just had my editorial meeting on this manuscript too, and am ALL RELIEF and praising God that they had only very minor notes as well. Yay!!)

In early March, I went in for my three-month scans, and I am ecstatic to report that those were CLEAR. No cancer cells spotted anywhere in my body, including my brain. Which is, of course, a HUGE praise!!

After those results, my oncologist dialed back the “nasty” parts of the chemo cocktail (this is called Enhertu, specifically targeting the HER2+ cancer cells, and the only treatment with good brain/blood barrier penetration, so my only real option). We were all hoping that would mean less nausea and hair loss, but…I didn’t honestly see any change in either.

For my fifth treatment, they gave me some new meds to take at night (Zyprexa, which was first developed as a drug to treat schizophrenia, but which, in micro-doses, is also used for both insomnia and nausea) and then a steroid to take in the mornings a few days after infusion. The nausea was definitely improved, though not gone by any stretch–it only lasted 7 days, though, and wasn’t quite as intense. Though the steroids gave me some swelling in my hands and feet, which my oncologist didn’t like. He cut the steroid again on my sixth infusion.

And that’s the one I just had last week. He also dialed back those “nasties” again, in the hopes that the nausea would be cut back to just a few days. And praise God, that’s exactly what I’ve seen! My stomach was still feeling a bit “off” on Friday and Saturday following the Thursday infusion, but not bad. And by Sunday, it was almost normal (though I still took my Zofran preemptively). Monday, though still tired, I felt perfectly fine and didn’t even take the Zofran. So YAY! I think it’s safe to say that this dial-back has been effective in the nausea-department, which is so great. I can handle a few days of tired and a weekend of “meh” when it comes to my stomach. Such a huge improvement! And such a relief, because it’s been rough.

Again, this is nowhere NEAR as bad as the full chemo of summer 2024. But it has its own challenges. First is the ongoing nature of the thing–because in 2024, I knew I only had 6 infusions. We counted down. We had that end always in sight. Now, though, I don’t honestly know how long this treatment will go on. A year, most likely. But we’ll have to pause for surgery, and I don’t know if that “year” is including the pause or if, however many we “miss” during it, will be tacked on at the end. I’m a very fringe case–in the best way, treating a disease no longer in my body–so there’s not a clear procedure here to follow. We’re winging it.

I also readily admit the hair loss is getting to me. Complete hair loss is unlikely on this course, so I certainly don’t want to shave it off like I did when I lost half of it within three days in 2024. But as someone who has always had very thick hair, seeing thin patches begin to emerge hits hard. I’ve bought some lovely wide headbands that help cover it and might just take up wearing hats–by which I mean cloches and fedoras and maybe a newsboy. I’m not a ball-cap girl, LOL, but I’ve always loved those vintage styles and already have several! Who knows, maybe I’ll even break out my 1940s fascinator that I wore to the American Library Association Convention last summer with my 1940s style dress. 😉 Don’t put it past me!

The most encouraging thing with this latest infusion, though, is that David has said, “You seem more you than usual after treatment.” Often, that first week or so afterward, I’m so tired and nauseated that I guess I feel “dimmed,” let’s call it. Not my usual, ahem, sparkling self. 😉 Which my darling husband, of course, hates to see. He’s described it as “you feel so far away.” But not this last time, and I am so, so grateful for that.

Oh, and a quick funny! So with the Patrons & Peers this year, we’re doing monthly Zoom chats on my backlist titles. We’re finishing up the Culper Ring Series now, and it has been SO long since I’ve worked on these that I had to reread them. I had Circle of Spies with me at my last infusion, and my nurse came in and said, “Oh, whatcha reading?

It was a little embarrassing, honestly, to be like, “Oh, my own book.” LOL. But also SO funny how her eyes went wide and she leaned in to see my name on it and was like, “Oh wow, that IS your book! That’s your name on the cover!” So I explained it was book number 5 of mine, and I just turned in number 55, and it’s been a LONG time, so I had to reread before a book club chat… and she just got more and more excited and dashed out of the room over to the nurses’ station to look me up and was shouting to all the other nurses about it. Which was hilarious. I told David, “Gee, maybe I should always be reading my own book when I’m at an appointment.” I think next time I might bring in a goody-bag filled with a variety of my titles. I sure have plenty to choose from these days, for any taste. (I did take my oncology team copies of several over the years, but I hadn’t ever brought any into the Infusion Center, given that I rarely have the same nurses, that team is so big.) Anyway!

My next scans are scheduled for July, and again, we fully expect those to be clear. Between now and then, I have my next appointment with my surgeon in late June, at which point we’ll determine if I’ve healed enough from my emergency surgery in February to proceed to the next step for reconstruction, which will be the intense diep-flap surgery, where they take flesh and fat from my stomach to recreate the breasts.

But before THAT, David and I will be celebrating our 25th anniversary on June 17, and we’ve decided to take a trip to Quebec City for the week. Our original plan was to go to Europe for this one, but my oncology team advised against any flight of more than 3 hours, given that I’m immunocompromised, so…we figured we’d better stick to North America. David looked up cities with the most European feel on our side of the pond, and Quebec City topped the list. I visited once when I was 15, for a French Club trip, and really enjoyed it. I’d originally said, “Oo, let’s stay in the Chateau Frontenac!” it being the most iconic hotel in the city. Then I looked at the prices, LOL, and realized we could get a really nice AirBnB for a quarter of the cost. So yeah. We’ll be doing that and can go tour the Chateau if we want. 😉 But mostly our goal will be to wander, sit outside of cafes and people watch, read, relax, and just take in the charm.

Thank you all, as always, for being so faithful to remember me in your prayers. I am always so, so touched when I hear how many people have me always on their prayer lists, and their church’s prayer list, and their small group list, etc. I feel your prayers, my friends. And I know God hears them. He has been so, so good to me. I know this is just a season–perhaps longer than I’d like, and man, am I looking forward to the day when I’m not just waiting for the next THING–the next infusion, the next surgery, the next scans. I’m looking forward to being able to strengthen my body again and to feel good. I believe that day will come. And in the meantime, I’ll keep on clinging to His hand and resting secure there. I’ll keep on doing my work and writing my stories and finding the joy in the everyday miracles He gives me.

And I’ll keep on praising Him and thanking YOU. Because I can’t imagine traveling this path alone.

In The Christmas Courier, my holiday novella that will come out in October 2026, my heroine thinks this about the hero:

“It wasn’t that Daniel was particularly handsome, probably. He wasn’t not either, of course. He was just…Daniel. That strong, sharp nose, the dark brown hair that was somehow always in need of a trim, even right after a trip to the barber. The mouth always so quick to smile, that she’d dreamed for so many years would kiss her.”

I loved writing this part, because it’s so true, isn’t it? Madeleine, the heroine, has known Daniel literally all her life. And she’s loved him all her life too, in one way or another. She doesn’t love him because of how he looks–but because she loves him, she loves that appearance too. And as for her? Madeleine was self-conscious when she was younger, constantly teased for not being fashionably slender. But Daniel had always told her she was beautiful.

And so, she believed him. Even though she didn’t necessarily love how she looked, she learned to see herself through his eyes, and so she became confident.

This is one of my favorite things about writing romance. Sometimes my characters are traditionally beautiful. Sometimes they’re not. But always, always, always they are seen as beautiful in the eyes of the one who loves them. Sometimes, much like Mr. Darcy’s view of Elizabeth, that grows and changes over time. Sometimes, they see immediately what others don’t. Sometimes, they’re immediately struck by that overt beauty and have to dig down beneath it.

Whatever the story, whatever the character demands, in the end, they all end up at that place where Madeleine in when she looks at Daniel–the place I am when I look at my husband. The place he is when he looks at me.

The place where you see all the features, and they stop adding up to pretty or handsome or ugly or beautiful or any other such label. And instead, they add up to mine. They add up to the one that I love. And once they’re that…well, beauty is a side effect.

It’s probably no coincidence that I wrote Madeleine and Daniel this way, as my body is yet again going through chemo-related changes. I can admit that it’s not easy, and there are moments when I’ve been struggling. 

When I was undergoing full chemo in 2024, I told a friend who was on the same journey, but a month or so behind me, that I found losing my hair to be worse than having lost my hair. I felt better once I’d shaved it, but those days of it coming out by the handful–those were HARD. 

Well, I’m now in a perpetual state of losing. Complete hair loss isn’t expected with my current treatment, but “thinning hair” is my reality right now. Which means that every day, I’m seeing it. Every day, if I touch my hair at all, I come away with two or three or four strands in my fingers. Every time. Day in and day out. It wears on me, yes. I don’t like it.

And sometimes, when I look in the mirror, that’s what I see. The thin patches, the receding hairline. I see the lack of what I usually am. I see the disfigurement from my last surgery. I see the evidence of two years of not enough energy to exercise like I used to.

But you know what happens then? I turn away from the mirror, and I walk out into the room where my husband is. And every time, he looks up at me with eyes of love. Every time, he smiles at me and says, “You’re so pretty.” It doesn’t matter what my hair looks like, or any other part of me. He sees me. And so, I see me too. Just as I see him. The eyes and the dimples and the grin that I love, yes–my love. 

When we think about our self-image, how we see ourselves, I think most of us have probably given some thought to seeing ourselves for who we are, not just how we appear. And I’ve certainly reflected on how we need to see ourselves as God sees us.

Lately, though, I’ve been so grateful that He gives us people who love us, to help us with that. God sees us through the eyes of love–and that’s how we see those we love best too. We don’t love them because they’re beautiful–but they are always beautiful because we love them. And so, the same is true for us.

We are beautiful because we are loved.

I’ve needed that reminder lately…maybe some of you do too. So there it is. It doesn’t matter if you’re classically gorgeous. It doesn’t matter if you’re in shape. It doesn’t matter is your hair’s falling out or if you’ve been changed by surgery or if you have acne or scars or anything else. You are created in the image of God himself, and you are beautiful. Walk in the confidence of that.