This goodness can HEAL

I’m stunned and so very grateful. I’m pretty certain my heart has grown 3 sizes from the outpouring of love coming our way this weekend. Y’all! I’m in awe of everyone who is praying, sending us positive messages, making meals, entertaining Miles, taking care of Kona the rambunctious puppy, moving their schedules around, gifting a family photo session, offering free housing for guests, even suggesting a Poker Tournament fundraiser, and just wow: donating so generously to help with the expenses flooding in.

I was quite reluctant to accept a fundraiser. Many close friends and family were nudging me to accept help. Loved ones were sending care boxes, donations via Venmo, and even handing envelopes to family members to pass along to me, “to lighten the load a bit.” If you know me well, you know I’m incredibly private, probably to a fault – AND I’m learning very quickly that this fight requires a village. So, I gave my blessing for a fundraiser to Dawnita, Heather Leanne, and Cristina. (We all work in marketing, if you couldn’t tell…) Heather Leanne ran full-speed ahead on a mission. When she went live with their Go Fund Me fundraiser, I spent the first hour crying. Yesterday, as donations climbed towards $15,000, I was simply speechless. What I didn’t expect to feel was this big hug from around the globe. Prayers and love and support palpably radiated through hundreds of texts, emails, and comments. As Heather Leanne eloquently texted me last night, “Take this into your heart, my friend. This goodness can HEAL.”

Yesterday, I logged off the computer, limited my phone, and spent the day just being with my miracle Miles (8 years old). He and Bill were typically rowdy and ridiculous in the morning. (I slept in…) Then, we joined up with grandparents to watch his basketball game, and later we went to Dog Man in the theater with our good friends, Mitch and Christina and family. It was one of those perfect days.

Today, I feel drawn to reach out to all of you with deep appreciation and to provide more details about the journey ahead. But first: welcome to the first post on the website that my sister and I have been talking about creating for years. We started “Rooted in the Middle” as a joint adventure, but it sat empty for months. Now, we’ve decided this is the perfect place to share updates. And other fun things, no doubt!

Why Rooted in the Middle? A few reasons, we think. Our roots run deep in middle America, growing up in Wessington, South Dakota. Our big-hearted little village held us tight and grew us up within an extended-family community. We wouldn’t trade that experience for the world. Rooted in the Middle is also about just being average. We live largely unremarkable lives that we enjoy. We’re aiming for good enough and sometimes awesome, not Insta/Pinterest worthy. We also strive to lead our lives in the “middle way,” which essentially means walking a path of balance, moderation, and harmony.

My Fight and the Road Ahead

 On January 3rd, Miles and I set out to meet up with friends at a local kids play venue. I had a cough I couldn’t shake, some shortness of breath, and a tendency to get bronchitis in the winter. So, I thought it wise to “swing through” the University of Iowa Urgent Care to make sure I wasn’t contagious and get some antibiotics. I will forever be grateful to the nurse practitioner who listened intently. He said, “So, I hear we have a cough and maybe a winter cold coming on?” I responded, “Well… this feels different.” He trusted my intuition, ran a blood test for possible tumor markers, and took an x-ray that showed fluid filling half my lung, which was also partially collapsed. I was immediately sent next door the Emergency Room, where a team was waiting for me, hooked me up to an ECG, took a CT and more bloodwork… They feared a pulmonary embolism. I was entirely naïve and several steps behind. When I first walked in, I asked to use the restroom. They asked, “How bad do you need to go?” That was my first clue that they suspected something serious. My response: “I guess not that bad?”

After many tests and scans, the staff was perplexed. I was young and healthy and had relatively mild symptoms. They could not pinpoint the reason for the fluid buildup. So, several days later, I underwent a thoracentesis to remove 1.5 liters (!) of fluid, which was biopsied. This procedure was by far the worst so far – even harder than the 45-minute tumor biopsy I later had.

January 8th was a dark day. I had arranged a follow-up appointment with my family doctor at the University of Iowa. We planned to simply review my tests and decide possible next steps. As I was sitting in her office, my lung biopsy results coincidentally came in: metastatic cells of gynecological origin. She immediately hugged me, I broke down and called my mom, sister, and friends, and felt so very confused. We still didn’t have tangible answers. We assumed ovarian cancer and prayed it could be removed with surgery. My doctor made numerous calls and scheduled an immediate CT of my abdomen and pelvis.

As I was driving home that night from the CT appointment, a notification came through on my phone: the scans were back. I opened the results and skimmed them… multiple metastatic nodes throughout my abdomen, ovaries, lungs… My blood literally ran cold and, afraid I may vomit, I pulled into a trailhead parking lot. I googled words I didn’t understand (never recommended) and sat there, in the dark, crying and remembering to breathe. Then, I pulled it together, walked into our home with a smile, exchanged knowing glances with Bill, and together we put Miles to sleep. Then, we had a good cry, researched for hours (also not recommended), and called his parents to cry some more.

My Navy Seals Medical Team

The next day, after cheerfully getting Miles off to school, we sat with our coffee trying to digest the last 24 hours. My friend, Heather Leanne, had texted at 4am to request my insurance card. She was determined to get me into a leading cancer center. Bill dubbed Heather Leanne, Cristina, and Dawnita my “Navy Seals Medical Team,” while he and I alternated between despair and numbness. At 9am, Dawnita called and said, “I’m 2 hours away from your house. I have a hotel room, and I’m staying there until we get you into Mayo.”

Man, everyone deserves a sister like Dawnita. She swept into my house with all her big little-sister energy, and filled the walls with joy and hope. She immediately called Mayo, and an angel answered the phone. Kimberly and Dawnita exchanged the required details, and my scans were triaged to the oncology teams for review. Then, Kimberly told us about her husband’s fight with cancer. She said, “This will be the hardest year of your life. But you will get through it. People come to Mayo from all over the world, because they’ve been told there’s nothing more to be done. And we heal them. We heal them. Stay positive. Believe you can be healed.” This was the receptionist! Dawnita, Bill, and I were a puddle of tears in the living room sitting on speaker phone with Kimberly, our new favorite person. We haven’t spoken with her again, but everyone at Mayo has welcomed us with this same energy. They consistently tell us, “We believe we can cure this.”

Over the next few days, my Mom drove down and took care of me as only a mom can. She cooked healthy food, did ALL our laundry, and we all sat late into the night talking, crying, and laughing. Dawnita called Mayo so often, they knew her name and number. They gently encouraged her to be patient as my records were being reviewed by the oncology teams.

By Friday afternoon, I had an appointment at Mayo on Tuesday! We screamed and cheered and celebrated, and texts were sent far and wide. Dawnita headed back to her own family, and swept out my front door, leaving a much happier, hopeful home than the one she walked into only 3 days earlier.

Meanwhile, my Navy Seals Medical Team grew to include a local care division of friends and family who jumped in to help in countless ways. They’ve created a meal train and planned after-school and weekend play dates to entertain Miles. We basically have a shared custody arrangement with Bill’s sister for Kona, our adorable, energetic puppy who begs for more attention than we’re giving her. Bill’s parents shuttle Miles to/from school, host sleepovers, are on call to entertain and feed him, attend school functions, even throw all-day Minecraft and pizza parties with the grandkids on my roughest recovery days, supply me with ginger cookies (for nausea, of course…), and so much more.

On Monday, Mom and I traveled 3 hours north to Mayo, met up with Dawnita again, and sat with the Medical Oncologist and Gynecologic Oncology Surgeon. They ran more tests, sat with us for hours, answered all our questions, and showed us incredible compassion as we attempted to accept “aggressive stage 4 ovarian cancer” and the high likelihood that it could return. Not gonna lie: it’s still hard to swallow that pill.

The Sandwich Plan and Folate Receptors

Because cancer cells have spread to my lungs, we’re doing a “sandwich” treatment approach: 4 chemo sessions, then surgery, then 3 more chemo sessions. The tumors around my lungs are small and few, but it’s challenging to remove them with surgery. The hope is that 4 rounds of chemo will largely eliminate the cancerous cells in and around my lungs. Mayo has a surgical philosophy: they leave nothing behind. The surgery will be a full hysterectomy, and they’ll also remove the omentum in my abdomen, which has many small tumors (complementary tummy tuck, anyone?). They hope to leave my lungs untouched by surgery, but we’ll cross that bridge if we have to.

We also learned about a promising trial drug, called Elahere, that more precisely targets ovarian cancerous cells. To qualify, my cells must contain more than 75% Folate Receptors. I’m not joking when I say we had prayer warriors across the globe sending out a call for “folate receptors.” Never in my life did I imagine receiving endless texts inquiring about the state of my folate receptors! And then the best news came: I qualified for the trial. I got the news while I was driving to Rochester for an appointment. I had to face time Mom, Dawnita, and aunt Marcie to deliver the good news. Because of the aggressive nature of this cancer, the trial will follow me closely for 2 years. And should I hopefully enter remission, I will remain with Mayo for frequent check-ups. Again, bridges to cross later… Today, we choose the middle way.

Telling my mom, aunt Marcie, and Dawnita the good news: folate receptors, baby!

Exactly 2 weeks after the Dark Day when I received the lung biopsy result and pelvic CT scan, I was sitting at Mayo, next to Dawnita, receiving my first chemo treatment. Two weeks to the day! My side effects were relatively mild, because I received only half the treatment. Once all the hoops have been hurdled, the trial drug, Elahere, will be added to my treatment. This is tentatively slated for February 12th.

Receiving the Goodness

I’m wrapping up my contract marketing work for now, and I’m being more intentional with my time. I’ve scheduled “catch up” calls with old friends from my past lives to fill the long drives. My dad calls to check in often and always on appointment days. Minneapolis friends are popping down to Rochester to have coffee and lunch with me. I’m even hosting chemo slumber parties. Friends and family are driving or flying(!) in to sit with me during my all-day chemo treatments. Dawnita joked that I may need to request more treatments to fit them all in. I think I’ll pass… but I can’t lie: I look forward to these grown-up slumber parties.

I’m making future plans, like celebrating my 50th birthday in June dancing with friends at the Cat Empire concert in Chicago! I happened upon this little Aussie band when I worked in marketing at Naropa University in Boulder. We often received tickets to events as appreciation for buying advertising. Some friends and I randomly went to a concert at the Fox Theatre on the hill featuring a quirky-named band touring out of Australia. And I’ve been hooked ever since! When they come to the U.S., I will travel. They were also Miles’s first concert 2 years ago.

Before cancer (not a phrase I ever imagined writing), I admit that I was mildly dreading this 50-year milestone. Now, I’m praying for it and plan to celebrate. I intend to embrace the privilege of growing old surrounded by a lifetime of generosity and love.

Well, friends, thank you for reading today’s novella. We’re so incredibly grateful for the outpouring of support and compassion. If you’re interested in staying in touch, we’ll post updates here. I expect future chapters will be much shorter (but I make no promises).

Go squeeze the ones you love,

Billie Jo 

GoFundMe Campaign

Welcome to Rooted in the Middle – Pull Up a Chair

Hey there, friend! You found us—two Midwestern sisters, navigating life with a little grace, a lot of coffee, and more than our fair share of chaos. We’re so glad you’re here.

We’re the voices behind Rooted in the Middle, a blog about life smack dab in the heart of the Midwest. That means we know a thing or two about unpredictable weather, the art of a well-timed casserole, and the importance of always waving to your neighbors (even if you don’t actually know their names).

Between us, we’ve got kids to raise, one with a career to manage, one with cancer to manage, and laundry that never seems to end. But what really ties us together—besides our shared childhood in a small town —is that we’ve walked through some pretty big life moments side by side. One of those moments? Facing ovarian cancer together. In this season filled with fear, faith and hope, and so much community love. But like everything else, we handle it the way we do best: together.

Now, before you start thinking this blog is all deep reflections and life lessons, don’t worry. We firmly believe in the power of humor, good food, and the daily coffee to get through whatever life throws our way. Some days we’ll be dishing out heartfelt wisdom, and other days, we’ll be debating the best way to remove permanent marker from a toddler’s forehead. (Spoiler: there is no easy way.) Or, sharing our latest podcast find.

So, welcome to our little corner of the internet. Consider this your invitation to pull up a chair, grab a cup of something warm, and stay awhile. Whether you’re here for the laughs, the encouragement, or just to feel a little less alone in the madness of it all, we’re so happy you’re with us.

Follow us on social, share your own stories, and let’s do this whole life thing together—one messy, beautiful, hilarious day at a time.

With love,

The Sisters of Rooted in the Middle  Dawnita & Billie Jo