I’m writing this on behalf of my cousin Caroline Keasler Tillman, someone who has been a constant presence in my life and in our family long before I was old enough to understand what that meant.

She has been in the hospital for 13 days now. Two days in oncology and eleven days in the ICU.

Over these last thirteen days, in the middle of fear and exhaustion, there have been unexpected pockets of joy and belly laughter that somehow keeps us all stitched together. Even in an unimaginable circumstance, Caroline has held fast to her wit and humor. She tells stories the way she always has, pulling us back in time, reminding us who she is beyond this moment.

Caroline was the first grandbaby. She has seventeen years on me, and I cling to the memories she carries of my parents and our family when they were younger. She likes to tell us with a grin, “I was your parents’ practice baby.” And she was. Which means she’s full of stories no one else can tell. Stories of running around Key Biscayne in the 80s and 90s with the Keaslers, an experience reserved for a lucky few. Summers riding horses in Plant City. Long nights around the dining room table with the Burches. Caroline is a spunky, prize-pony of a kid to those who know her..sharp, independent, unforgettable.

In just three short weeks, a cruel diagnosis has taken hold. What began as abdominal pain turned out to be stage 4 dedifferentiated endometrial carcinoma, an aggressive and rare uterine cancer, now spread to her lungs and other organs. Caroline had been hospitalized for 2 days and in a swift emergency effort, her medical team moved her to the ICU where she is receiving CRRT dialysis as she began to experience kidney injury due to tumor lysis syndrome (TLS) further complicating treatment. She is receiving chemotherapy, and immunotherapy in the ICU while remaining on dialysis until improvements in her condition are made. She has been there for 11 days.

Caroline is also part of the medical community herself. Working in patient-facing support at the very hospital now caring for her. She has spent her career helping others navigate difficult moments, and now she finds herself on the other side of that care, meeting it with gratitude and remarkable strength.

We believe in miracles and in the power of prayer. For those whose gift is prayer alone, we ask that you pray for the team at UNC Chapel Hill, each specialist, nurse, and technician working across multiple disciplines to treat Caroline’s unique condition. May God guide their decisions and bless the hands that care for her. They truly are angels on earth, and Caroline is deeply grateful for every one of them.

If you are able to donate, we are deeply grateful. If you are not in a position to give, sharing this page or holding Caroline in your thoughts and prayers means more than you know.