If ever there was a year where we have an excuse to skip sending holiday cards, it would be this one. Even still, I convinced myself in October that I will definitely find time to prioritize holiday / thank you greeting cards to all our family, friends, and neighbors who supported us this year. Alas, by December 22nd I admitted that a blog post will suffice. Here is 2024 in review for the Rickards, including an update on my cancer journey:
January – March:
What can I say, we started like every other year, resolutions to get healthier, less screen time, more family time, etc. February hit us like a tsunami, ripping apart our hearts when we lost my loving stepdad rather suddenly to a battle with leukemia. As we tried to regroup in March, Ben’s 16th birthday rolled around and he got his license, Eddie turned 44, we were planning a beautiful beach getaway with some friends to sunny Florida…and the month rounded out with my devastating breast cancer diagnosis.
Kicked it off with trivia and our favorite Ferrel impressions Addie and Eddie ready for the father/daughter danceHe’s a legal driverFlorida with the funnest crew!
April – June:
The spring was a blur of end of school activities and more doctors appointments than I can count. I started chemotherapy, lost my hair, coached Addie’s softball team, got away with our friends to the Lake, served on Memorial Day with family for wounded veterans, and cheered Nolan on during baseball. Eddie was promoted at work! I completed the first 6 rounds of chemo, with ten to go.
We saw the northern lights in St. Louis MO!Memorial Day weekend was not the same without GrandpaAnother year of coaching the best softball team ever!Our friend’s wedding in KCNolan kicked butt at the 200 in track this year
July – September:
My mom hosted an epic fourth of July cookout with our family, some good friends visited our farm, we got to take a camping trip to a new to us National Park with my mom. I was able to go on a fabulous road trip with my mom, aunt and cousins to Dallas, TX. I beat COVID during chemo and rang the bell finishing all of my chemotherapy treatments on September 18. We attended and cheered on our boys at many Lindbergh Flyer’s football games, and Addie during many volleyball games. I also received news that I was promoted to a new position at work (voluntold is more accurate, and what an adventure it has turned into!)
4th of July at Mom’s20 year anniversary Mammoth Cave with GmaRang out chemo!
October – December:
I was able to focus on just recovering from chemo, soak up a little of the fall, and remember for a bit how it feels to not be nauseous and fatigued all the time (that was short lived before surgery and radiation). Ben took his sweet girlfriend, Madi, to homecoming. Nolan’s football team played in the championship game and took second in the league! Addie made the girl’s Flyer’s Elite basketball team which Eddie is helping to coach, and I made it through surgery (a bilateral mastectomy with 3 lymph nodes removed). The best day in October was a phone call on my birthday letting me know pathology results showed a complete response in my lymph nodes, and near complete response elsewhere (one microscopic lymph vessel with a tiny amount of cancer which my surgeon removed). “We got it all”, the nurse stated. I was stunned and so relieved. Thank you, Lord! November rounded out the end of football and volleyball; I worked on recovery from surgery, and in December I returned to work, to my new job. December 18 – December 26, I completed radiation. We like to call this “the final throat punch” to knock out cancer once and for all!
Madi and Ben at HomecomingThanksgiving at Mom’s Our amazing trip to Scottsdale, Arizona!Sonoran Dessert was beautiful!Finishing radiation December 26!
All in all, it’s been a long, hard year. But wow. I cannot fathom the amount of love and support our family has received throughout everything. Every step of this journey, we have been surrounded, cared for, lifted up; from nourishing meals, to giftcards, to trips, to flowers, to house cleanings, to yardwork…to free head shavings from a friend…every little act of love and service has meant the world to us and made an impact. THANK YOU to all, and may you have a healthy and healing 2025!!
If God is so good, why does he allow bad things to happen? That’s the billion dollar question, and you will hear many different ideas. I wanted to share with everyone much sooner what this cancer battle has been like, but I will confess that throughout my journey this year I have kept my head down with a mission to “just get through it”. This is a blessing and a curse I’ve struggled with most of my life: I can get through hard things without too much of a pity party, but sometimes I want so badly to get through the hard stuff of life, that I often find myself trying to fast-forward through it to get to the “good stuff”, or I think “just wait, eventually, life will be easier and you can enjoy it.” Just typing that sentence I realize how ridiculous it sounds. Life is full of HARD STUFF. Each and every day we will face something hard. What I do not want to do is wish my life away, trying to “just get through” the day because it’s hard and I am so certain that after this hard thing, life will be easier.
“After I finish my degree and start my career, life will be easier… After I lose 10-20 lbs, life will be more enjoyable… After I get through this sleepless newborn season, life will get easier… After I get through chemotherapy and my hair starts to grow back, life will be normal again.” What a load of crap.
If there is one thing I hope to take away from this cancer battle and share with others, it’s this: wake up. Stop scrolling your life away, dazed and distracted. Don’t wish yourself through the hard stuff so badly that you can’t see the good that still surrounds you. “Therefore let us not sleep, as others do, but let us watch and be sober.” ~ 1 Thes. 5:6
Life is right now, today. There are zero guarantees for anyone on tomorrow. Stop putting things off that you want to do, say, learn, love, enjoy, because you’re not satisfied with how you look, how you feel, what your house looks like, how much money you’ve saved up, etc. I realize there are some things that need to be achieved or obtained before we can do all that we’d like to, (like you should probably train before you try to run a marathon:), but please realize life can be good and beautiful and enjoyed right now. Life with cancer and going through treatments was no picnic, and I was not sunshine and rainbows every day; I cried big ugly sobbing cries, I screamed and yelled at God. I was irritable and tired a lot, I gained 25 friggin pounds and lost all my hair during treatment; I got frustrated and threw a scarf across my office because I looked like a pirate and needed to be on camera for a customer meeting (que short wig from my mom, thanks Mom). My point is, it’s OK to have all the emotions and I believe it is healthy and natural to process and release those emotions. I am still processing all that I’ve been through and I know my healing journey is truly just beginning. But if I stay fixated on the pain and the struggle, if I just keep my head down as I bull through the hard stuff, I will inevitably miss so much of the good stuff.
When I had to face one of my biggest fears, more than once this year, I could no longer avoid thinking about all the “what ifs”. What if I die from cancer, what will happen to my kids, who will be there to look after them, advocate for them, encourage them and love them the way they deserve to be loved? What moments in the future will I miss out on that I have dreamed about and prayed about for my children? I remember one day this summer, sitting in our house crying with a friend over the phone, and I said to her, “I am trying so hard to find the good in this, to understand the ‘purpose in the pain’, but I cannot do it. I cannot find good or a purpose in this. Why would God let this happen? If my kids have to grow up without one of their parents, I cannot see the good in it.” My friend paused for a moment and then she said, “Cassie, you don’t have to find purpose in this. It’s OK to not be OK with it. We do not always have to look for the good or purpose in everything.” I cried even harder as I released so much emotion, and after that moment, it was a little bit easier for me to process through my circumstances.
I cannot take credit for the following quote, it was one I came across, along with with many others that inspired me this year. Another mom was sharing an update on the reoccurrence of her thyroid cancer, and I will paraphrase what she wrote: “I believe that every single good thing in this life is a gift from God. And everything else is just life.” In other words, I will still praise God for all of the beautiful gifts He has given me in this life: my family, my husband, three healthy and amazing children, loving and supportive friends, a warm home to raise my children in, trips and vacations, moments snuggled up with my family watching a funny movie or binge watching with my daughter a sitcom about a teenager who battles cancer, comforting meals from friends and neighbors during treatments, new friendships and bonds I’ve made with other women also battling breast cancer. Every day I can look around and choose to see something beautiful and I can choose to be grateful for something small, but somedays I won’t be able to smile and say “I am so grateful for ____.” And that is OK because I am a human being, and this life we have is not perfect, and this world we live in is broken. Somedays I can scream and cheer, despite my circumstances, for 20 years of marriage celebrated during round 8 of chemo, my son getting his driver’s license (was terrifying but gave us a third driver in our home when we REALLY needed it), my other son who has had his own share of struggles coming in FIRST PLACE at a track meet in the 200 yard dash, my daughter asking my mom to help baptize her this year…
I have come to the conclusion that God is so good because He has gotten me through all of the hard, terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days in my life, and I know that He always will. I may or may not get the ending I want, but God has shown me He will never leave me, or my loved ones. I do not have 100% control over whether or not I will always be there for my children, but I can 100% trust that God will be there, and He will provide love and support for my children every step of their lives. As I was composing an email to one of the kids’ teachers the day before my surgery, I wrote, “I will be unreachable that day, but my husband or my mom will be there.” I realized in that moment, someone will be there. It’s not the same as if it were me, but during those pivotal moments, God will put someone there so that they are not alone.
I grew up without my biological father after he passed away when I was 6 years old. I look back now and there was always someone there: teachers who would comfort me when I was sad, my high school softball coach cheering and congratulating me after my highest scoring basketball game (18 points! not too shabby), brothers to vet my new boyfriend, uncles and my stepdad on my wedding day, aunts who’ve always loved on me, my mom – one of my biggest supporters, my grandma always making sure my hairstyle was the best on picture day, my youth pastor counseling me through hard stuff during my adolescent years, my pastor and my best friend’s dad watching over me on mission trips in college, high school teachers who would pray with me, best friends who would cry with me, my FIL driving me to my first job interview in St. Louis, neighbors who walk with me, friends who went with me to chemo treatments…someone who loves me has always been there when I needed it. And I have a beautiful life with so much to be thankful for. I want to be awake and fully present for every moment. “He will not let your foot slip— he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.” ~ Psalm 121:3-4
I cannot deny there are times when the pain is too much for me to process in the moment, so I may choose to distract or numb…kind of like icing a spot or asking for a nova cane shot before a big injection, that sometimes looked like me just sitting on the couch and reading a really good novel and ignoring life, and later, when I am ready and able, I will face those hard things. However, I do not want distraction and numbing to become the default reaction to life.
I have plenty of processing and reflecting to do in the coming year, but I must not stay downcast about the areas where I failed or messed up or the things that do not look perfect; I can acknowledge these experiences and ask myself, “what did I learn? What can I do better next time? What can I do right now that is good?” Or sometimes, maybe all I can say is, “I got through it.” And that is enough.
For all of the things 100% out of my control, I can acknowledge my fears, share it with someone I can confide in, and release it to my Savior who I know I can trust. We are guaranteed in this life that we will have suffering, it cannot be avoided, but we can control how we react to it, how we choose to frame it, and how we will live in response to it.
“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” ~ James 1:17
February 2024 was a whirlwind of shock and grief. We suddenly lost my stepfather to a battle with leukemia. We were not expecting this because prior to February he had been managing and battling the chronic form of this disease, and doing quite well. As our family was just beginning another journey of grief, trying to learn a “new normal” none of us wanted to accept, I had a doctor’s appointment on the horizon as well. I had a few concerns to be discussed and looked at, but I had experienced some of these things in the past and they always turned out to be nothing, so I felt safe to assume this time would be the same.
March is always a busy month with two birthdays in our household, and this year we were celebrating our first born’s sweet sixteen! Ben did great and passed his driver’s test on the first try. We had a trip planned the following week with a group of his friends and their families to a beautiful beach in Florida. Eddie also celebrated his 44th birthday, and the kids’ spring-break was just days away. So on this Monday morning, as I sat in the chair across from a nurse explaining to me how a breast tissue biopsy works, I was in total denial, and really just angry and annoyed. I’m leaving for a vacation in four days, I have had these symptoms before and it was no big deal so I don’t know why this time they want a biopsy, and is she serious that I won’t be able to get in the ocean or swim for seven days? I do not need this biopsy, they want to mark me and put me through all this and it will be for nothing. Yet, I accepted the initial appointment, walked out to my car, called my husband, and cried. We both agreed we shouldn’t get upset or too worried yet, we don’t know anything, it’s just a biopsy. The next day I called and requested to postpone the biopsy until after our trip. I have zero regret making that choice.
Beautiful sunsets in Cape San Blas
On March 27, I was at home by myself, working, when my phone rang. The radiologist let me know that unfortunately, my results were malignant. I can’t accurately express how it feels to hear these words, but shock and disbelief are as close as I can get. The next several days and weeks were excruciating: telling my loved ones I have cancer, particularly my kids, is just an experience I would not wish on the worst person on earth. I was suddenly living in fragments based on doctor’s appointments, scans, more biopsies, waiting on results, and consultations with surgeons and oncologists. I never thought, “my oncologist” or “my breast surgeon” would be part of my vocabulary. I have been riding on the scariest rollercoaster of my life and there is no way for me to get off this one. I have no choice but to grab on to the handles, close my eyes, and hold on for every twist, turn, and dip. There have been crashing lows “because it’s in a lymph node, you have to do chemotherapy”, and a few huge reliefs “your scans show no evidence of disease anywhere else”.
Over the past 12 weeks, I have been walking through a very dark valley, and it’s terrifying, overwhelming, and yet at some points, I can still see so much beauty and goodness surrounding me. Wonderful warrior friends have rallied around me and given me tools and lots of love and support so that I am not walking this journey alone or blind. My “bosom buddies”, “pink sisters”, fellow breast cancer overcomers, are walking beside me and I am so grateful for their encouragement. Looking at them has given me something critical to getting through this: HOPE.
Two fellow warriors taking me out to lunch after a day of scans
Along with support from fellow survivors, my church and community have rallied around our family. Our church started a meal train and many friends, family and neighbors have pitched in with meals, gift cards, rides for my kids, flowers, house cleaning, books and comfort gifts for infusion days, lots and lots of greeting cards (each one I treasure and save and go back to read through them for ongoing encouragement), hats and scarves to help me get through the hair loss, encouraging texts, walks with my neighbors, and so much more. My mom drives up during my treatment weeks and helps us with laundry, housework and kid’s activities. Our family is going through a lot, and it’s hard, but thank God, we are not alone.
Fellow warrior Jacki in the back with me and two dear friends at the drive-in last weekend watching Inside Out 2 w/the kids
In April, I had surgery for a port in one of my larger veins. I also cut off my long hair and was able to have mine and some of Addie’s hair made into a halo wig that I can wear under hats. Having a piece of me that I chose to take and not allow chemo to take has been somewhat empowering.
Short hair, don’t care!Lopping off the locks…this time they were for me.
As of today, I have completed four rounds of chemotherapy: I started with a dual dense dose, two drugs at once: Adriamycin and Cytoxan. Thank GOD, I am finished now with that specific regimen. I begin a third regimen on June 26, 12 weeks/rounds of Taxol. Once I complete chemotherapy, which will be mid-September, I will have about a month to recover before I have surgery. Surgery will likely happen in October, and then I will have radiation following surgery. There will be a lot more that I have to endure and process, but for right now, I am trying to only focus on what is right in front of me: getting through chemotherapy. I am confident the worst of the chemotherapy side effects are behind me, but I do have a long ways to go.
Eddie & I at round 2 infusion. This was the same day my hair started to fall out. On the bright side, the nurses and staff at Siteman SoCo are phenomenal!That big syringe of red stuff is Adriamycin, I affectionately refer to it as “the red ninja”, because it is demolishing those cancer cells! I’m icing my hands, feet and mouth during the treatments to protect against certain side effects.
I would be remiss if I did not mention where my faith is in all of this. I can write pages about it already, but I will save that for another post. I do want to mention that all of this news unfolded during Holy Week this year. It was no coincidence, and there were moments I was trembling with fear and emotion, but acutely aware of God’s presence with me. He has not abandoned or forsaken me, I know this to be true. He was not shocked by my diagnosis, and He knew exactly what I would need to get through this battle. He has and is surrounding me with all I could need, want or hope for with the best doctors, family and friends praying for us, a solid support system, and so far, prayers are being answered. I am responding well to treatment and my tumor has shrank so dramatically I can no longer feel it! More to come….
Another survivor friend gave me the idea to create this countdown of my treatments…it’s a long one, but each round finished is a link removed. Four down, 12 to go!
trilliumtransformation.com 