Sisters
Hello friends. I am about six weeks post-op, and I have been recovering well. I am working on improving my strength and endurance. I am trying to listen to my body more, accepting that rest is not weakness, and that this is just a season.
I celebrated my 45th birthday on April 20th, eight days later, our baby girl turned 5. This called for something big. Mande and I took our girls to the Happiest Place on Earth! I hope this is the first of many trips with CC & Ryan Kate.
It would be impossible for me to be where I am today without certain people in my life. Most of you know I am the middle of three children. Mande is my older sister by fifteen months. If you know us, you know we are as different as night and day. For starters, she has blonde hair and blue eyes.
Mande and I went to different high schools. While I enjoyed the small-town “Friday Night Lights” feel of Waxahachie High School, Mande did not. She found her home at Booker T. Washington High School for the Performing and Visual Arts. Mande was and still is a very talented actor. She also has quite a writing talent. Mande was always the entertainer. When we were kids and our parents had company over, Mande would take this time to perform her self-choreographed routine to “Top of the World” by the Carpenters. One time, my mom got up and turned the music off. I am not sure if Mande ever recovered from this betrayal.
Mande was the second person I called when I was first in the hospital in June of 2022. She continues to be one of my most significant sources of support. Mande has spiritually impacted my life in so many ways. She has the gift of prayer, and her faith is strong. She never takes credit for anything and has always said, “But God.”
When we were at Disney, there was an incident one evening when we were trying to load the ferry from the Boardwalk. There was a metal ramp leading down to load the ferry. There was an older gentleman with his wife, who was in a large motorized wheelchair. The wheelchair had lost power right at the entry on the ramp. Most people were just going around her. The husband was trying frantically to move the chair. The chair would not go into neutral. Two gentlemen were trying to help, so I took the girls and walked around, but when I got to the bottom of the ramp, Mande was not with us. When I looked back up, she was laying hands and praying over the woman. When she finally joined us, I asked her what she was doing. She said that the woman’s name is Bonnie. She said she asked Bonnie if she could pray with her, and the two gentlemen who had stopped to help, prayed too. Mande finally made her way down the ramp to me and the girls. Can you guess what happened next? The chair’s power came back on, and Bonnie could reverse safely off the ramp. This is a true story. God is in the details.
I feel incredibly blessed to have someone like her petitioning God daily for my healing. Actually, Mande praises God for my healing, believing it has already been done. I wish I could go back and tell teenage Mande and Karly that one day, they would be the very best of friends, and that they would be each other's other half.
“To the outside world we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other’s hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time.”
Mande is a 6 on the Enneagram, the Loyalist; they are most loyal to their friends and beliefs. This is a perfect explanation of who she is.
I asked Mande to share about our trip.
Hi, I’m Mande—Karly’s older sister, and for this trip, her steady presence behind the scenes. I’ve always loved her fiercely, but this season—walking with her through surgery, recovery, and now a trip that took so much courage—has deepened that love in ways I never expected.
When she asked me to come to Disney, I said yes without hesitation. I knew the days would be long and the emotions would be layered. I stepped in when her energy ran low and protected her peace as much as possible. But between the care and concern, there were glimpses of grace—moments where joy broke through, laughter came easily, and healing felt tangible. This trip reminded me that God doesn’t just give strength for the whole journey—He gives it day by day, moment by moment. And that was enough.
“Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28
Disney is known for its magic—the kind with fireworks, fairy tales, and characters that bring joy to life. But this trip? This trip had a different kind of magic. It looked like strength wrapped in a pair of Minnie ears. It sounded like laughter echoing through exhaustion. And it felt like holding joy and heartache in the same hand.
I had the incredible honor of being there for my sister — my brave, beautiful sister — who, just weeks earlier, underwent major surgery to remove part of her lung as part of her treatment for stage 4 lung cancer. And yet, there she was. At Disney. Smiling, soaking up the moments, choosing joy.
“Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.” Mark 5:34
Why This Trip Mattered
This wasn’t just a vacation. It was a victory lap—a breath of fresh air (literally and figuratively) after weeks of hospital rooms, hard news, and healing. For my sister, it was a chance to feel alive again. For all of us, it was a sacred pause—a way to soak up precious time and build memories we can hold onto forever.
We knew it would take a lot to make it happen. But we also knew that if we could, we absolutely should.
Behind the Scenes: The Caregiver Lens
Being the support person meant a lot of things. It meant carrying bags and snacks and sometimes emotions that felt too heavy to name. It meant staying tuned into her energy level, knowing when she needed rest, when she could push a little further, and when she just needed someone to say, "Take your time. I've got you." It wasn’t always easy. There were moments of worry, overwhelm, and wondering if we were doing too much or not enough. But every time I looked at her face, full of joy, awe, and LIFE, I knew it was worth every ounce of effort.
There is something sacred about being the steady presence behind the scenes.
Moments I Won’t Forget
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Watching her eyes light up during the fireworks show, laughing so hard we cried over "Why her name is Maybe," cartwheels, and dancing in the airport. Sharing a quiet moment on a bench while the world buzzed around us, walking as fast as possible to get to the next ride, and we were just as excited to see the pictures! I think pictures may be one of her love languages. These are the moments I will carry with me forever.
And the truth is, the magic of Disney didn’t just come from the characters or the castles. It came from her. Her strength. Her presence. Her joy in the face of it all.
“She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come.” Proverbs 31:25
What This Trip Taught Me
I learned that caregiving is an act of deep love. Showing up—fully, patiently, and without expectation—is its own kind of magic. I saw firsthand that joy and grief can sit side by side. Strength can be quiet. Healing can look like laughing with your whole heart while holding your side because it still hurts to breathe. This trip wasn’t perfect. But it was real. And it was beautiful. And I wouldn’t trade a single second.
“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” Lamentations 3:22–23
The Journey From Here
There is no clear path to deciding what the next treatment plan should be. As my oncologist said, “Karly, no data tells us exactly what to do next.” Surgery for stage IV lung cancer is not the standard of care. When a treatment is prescribed for oncology patients, its success is measured by its effects on the cancer in the body. When I had my surgery, all the active cancer was removed from my body. So, how do you decide what is next? One big change at a time. That is the path we are taking. My big change was the surgery. I will continue to take my daily medication. This is my “targeted” medication. We have learned from the recent biopsy that I have developed a new mutation, which is not a complete surprise. The new mutation is associated with resistance to EGFR tyrosine kinase inhibitors (TKIs), particularly osimertinib, the daily “targeted” medication I take.
So do we wait and see? Right now, I probably have what they refer to as NED (no evidence of disease). My next scans are in June. Please, God, hear our prayers, let there be no cancer in my body.
It is thought that being stage IV means you have microscopic metastatic disease, meaning this mutation-driven cancer is in my body, it just needs the right environment to do its work. We could wait, see where it decides to set up shop, then attack it there. Which I have been told very much will happen, my surgery was not curative. I could also be a little more aggressive and see how long I can stay with NED.
This Friday, I will begin chemotherapy for the second time. Pemetrexed and Bevacizumab. I will have infusions every 21 days for six cycles, with the possibility of maintenance therapy thereafter.
How I feel depends on the day. Physically, my body is strong. The human body is incredible. I still believe that carrying and delivering four beautiful 8-lb babies is the most amazing feat my body has done. But here I am, six weeks out from having a third of my right lung removed, I have already been on my Peloton and just returned from Disney World, where we averaged around six miles daily. My endurance has changed; sometimes I become short of breath, but I am thankful for the breath in my lungs.
I will never stop searching for more. I want more time, not just a few more years, but decades. I know this is not my home. My creator, my savior, has prepared a place for me. My human, selfish heart wants more time with Josh and my babies.
I will also never stop asking for your prayers. Your prayers are everything to me. When I have the opportunity to meet someone and they say, “I’ve been praying for you,” it is like Jesus is standing next to me, elbowing me, saying, “I’ve got you.”
“O Lord my God, I cried to you for help, and you have healed me.” Psalm 30:2
