When Brandon's cough turned out to be more than just a minor annoyance, our world tilted. Enter Arnie, the malignant gatecrasher we never asked for. From heated barista confrontations to tear-filled nights in hospital corridors, join us on our wild roller-coaster of love, fear, and resilience. This isn't just about battling cancer; it's about finding laughter in the face of darkness and rediscovering love amidst chaos. Dive into our crazy cancer ride and discover how we tackled Arnie head-on.

In the aftermath of completing chemotherapy for lymphoma, a couple faces the daunting challenges of life post-treatment. As they return home, the weight of uncertainty looms, with lingering physical and emotional effects of cancer still present. The caregiver wrestles with their own fears and expectations while trying to support their loved one, who battles depression and the struggle to redefine normalcy. Together, they navigate the uncharted territory, discovering the need for patience, self-care, and a newfound appreciation for the healing process. This heartfelt story explores the complexities of life after chemotherapy, shedding light on the often-overlooked struggles caregivers and their loved ones face.

One winter day, I stopped at a coffee shop that was also in the hospital. I finished my coffee and stopped by the location right inside the hospital lobby. The barista noted I had the wrong cup and told me I needed to buy a whole coffee not just a refill. I lost it. I was stressed about my husband upstairs on chemo, I was not sleeping well and, I just lost my temper and stared yelling. When I calmed back down I was mortified. What had I done, and how could I do better? I apologized and slinked off back upstairs to my sick husband.

Cancer treatment is expensive, but a cost that is worth every single penny. But in the midst of all the other things happening, one of my struggles was, how are we going to pay for this? Thankfully we had insurance, but what about what insurance doesn’t cover? Here are some steps to help think through the expenses.

It all begins with an idea.

I named my husband’s tumor Arnie. I assumed this mass was likely some random fat cell gone wild. My husband, Luke, was a healthy forty-four-year-old. Now the little bastard, Arnie, had made us spend Friday night in this dirty hospital emergency room. How would they get rid of Arnie, anyway? Surgery? I hoped it wouldn’t be too dangerous.

When the doctor told us my husband Brandon had a cancerous tumor, we decided to name it. Its name was Arnie, and he was a jerk.

We met Arnie on a Friday afternoon in the Emergency Room. Only hours before, Brandon had gone to his general doctor for a check -up due to a lingering cough. We sat in a dank room with staff buzzing like a swarm of bees. They shaved patches off Brandon’s chest, hooked him up to heart monitors, IV tubes and other contraptions I cannot name. We looked at one another and laughed out of nerves and confusion. We thought he must have pneumonia. He'd get a bag of antibiotics and we'd be on our way, back to our normal life.