Support Juli's Fight Against Leukemia

Life is guaranteed to be full of surprises. They’re part of the joys and sorrows of what it means to be human. The best we can hope for is that the sorrows and challenges don’t all rain down at once and we have the capacity and resiliency to overcome them if, and when, they do. I hope my story resounds with both.

In May of 2019, my mom was diagnosed with the most aggressive form of Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML). Her initial prognosis was three months without treatment, but through a series of phone calls and miracles, she found Dr. Rajesh Behl, the foremost hematology and oncology expert in the Bay Area for this type of leukemia in patients over seventy. At their first meeting, he said, “I know all about this monkey business,” and that was enough for her to trust him with her life. Mom was in remission within months and remained so for the better part of five years, with the help of one week of chemo out of every month. In April of 2024, she passed away one month shy of her 91st birthday, from an illness unrelated to leukemia. Thanks to the wisdom, skill, and care of Dr. Behl, my mom’s children and friends were able to enjoy five more years of life with her than expected, and we will be forever grateful.

In October of 2024, I was starting a long overdue vacation on the same day Petaluma experienced a heatwave of over 100-degree temps. The first day of vacation, I started feeling nauseated and weak, and attributing it to the heat, I pulled out the portable air conditioner to gain some relief. Relief did not come, and the nausea turned into vomiting and an inability to walk around the block without extreme fatigue.

I went to urgent care and was given anti-nausea medication and sent home. Days later, the nausea, vomiting, and fatigue persisted, so I went back to urgent care. They sent me to the emergency department for more comprehensive testing and treatment. Pretty quickly, the urgency of the circumstances became evident when my white count returned at 62 (4 - 11 being within normal range). I was told it was definitively leukemia, as the white count was well above what would be considered a range for infection.

Having known and trusted Dr. Behl for the last five years, there was no question in my mind where I needed to be for treatment, so my brother notified him of the situation and off I went, via ambulance, to Sutter Hospital in Oakland. After a week of testing, the diagnosis was confirmed as AML, although a less aggressive form than my mom experienced. I was encouraged that although the treatment would be very aggressive, I was a good candidate for total healing and recovery without a bone marrow transplant. Treatment would consist of several rounds of chemotherapy as a hospital inpatient, which included two oral chemotherapy medications and three infusion chemo meds. If there is an upside to cancer treatment, it is that the medical industry has become much better at managing negative side effects, and I, thankfully, experienced very few most associated with chemo, like nausea, in that first round. Perhaps it was more that I was just so sick when I was admitted that the treatment didn’t seem as difficult and invasive. After seven weeks in the hospital, I returned home, exhausted and anxious, wondering what was next. I spent much of my time back at home resting and recovering my strength and avoiding the internet. The week before my next round of treatment, I walked two miles on three separate days. I was feeling good and thought I was prepared for the consolidation round one that was to come.

There are risks that accompany chemotherapy treatment including, for me, potential leukopenic fevers and infections from the total decimation of vital blood counts like white blood cells that fight infection, and platelets that form clots to stop bleeding, an issue I experienced during my first round. At the outset of consolidation round one, I had a PICC line inserted. PICC lines are tubes that thread into the larger veins in the arm to the opening of the heart. They are used for chemo treatment because those larger veins can better tolerate the harsh chemicals being pumped into the body and the proximity to the heart helps the medication flow more effectively through the body to eradicate any potential cancer cells. Fairly immediately after insertion of the PICC line, I started having heart palpitations determined to be caused because the tip of the PICC line was too close to the opening of my heart. To remedy this, the PICC line was pulled out 1.5 cm which caused a superficial blood clot in my arm. Within the same time, I started having fevers that topped the scale at 104.9 and test results showed a strep infection. It’s unclear whether any or all these things were related, but the timing was at least inconvenient and made a rough go of my time in treatment. As ever, I am thankful for the conscientious and kind care of the medical staff at Sutter Alta Bates, most especially the nursing staff who are relentlessly dedicated. This made a rough time at least bearable.

In the midst of this difficult treatment time, while in the hospital, I received two separate certified envelopes from my employer; the first notifying me that I had passed the 12-week period the state of CA required of them to hold my job, and informed me they would be filling my position, the second envelope contained notice of termination of my health insurance benefits nearly a month prior, and COBRA paperwork to continue my insurance at the cost of roughly $2300/month. To be paid for with what income? I am uncertain. The question lingered, during the most difficult and inconvenient time, “How do I continue paying my bills, medical included, through SDI alone, which is not remotely close to my working income?” It was impossible to consider when I barely had the energy and optimism to get through a rough round of chemo. So, there was no choice but to apply for COBRA and continue insurance, for both me and my husband, who had also recently been diagnosed with a health issue requiring attention. I then set the rest of the paperwork aside until I was able to go home and recover, reminding myself to worry only for today, and not to “…worry about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” (Matt 6:34 CSB).

Recovery after the second round was much more challenging and return of energy took over a month. There were no two-mile walks this time. I was reminded to do what I could and rest when I needed to rest, but I still had to contend with benefits and other medical paperwork I’d received declining out-of-network referrals for office visits to my oncologist between treatments. I did what I needed to do and mustered the energy to get it all completed. In the process, I discovered an additional long-term disability benefit for which I am eternally grateful. It tempered much of the anxiety, but still doesn’t fully address growing medical bills, increasing insurance costs, and other unforeseeable circumstances, like vet bills. While I was home, we, my husband Reggie and I, took our dog to the vet for a regular visit, and the vet discovered what we would later find out was a malignant anal gland tumor. Seriously?! I could not fathom the idea of losing a most beloved friend while I was in such a fragile emotional state. Gus, thankfully, is now cancer-free at no small hit to our bank account, and I am crying writing this because I am filled with gratitude that I still have my best pups by my side for many more days of cuddles and belly scritches. My rescue pups rescue me daily.

Right now, I am sitting in the hospital overlooking the San Francisco skyline and contemplating. I look back on what I have written, and on the one hand, feel like it’s too much negativity to burden people with. Yet, on the other hand, I have been overwhelmed with people asking how they can help. First, always first, is prayer. It is the best line of defense against the slings and arrows in my opinion, and I appreciate the many people who have shared their prayers with me, and as I understand it, many more who I don’t know. Thank you. Your prayers keep me going. I also appreciate the phone calls, texts, visits, continuous encouragement, house cleaning, dog sitting, offers of food preparation and grocery shopping, and so much more. Practically, though, we need help paying for the unexpected financial burdens that have accompanied this crazy roller coaster ride, until I am back on my feet and able to work. I am reminded of a story in Exodus about Moses praying for Joshua to defeat their enemies in war. If Moses continually held up his hands in prayer, Joshua and his army would win. If he dropped his hands, they would be defeated. I believe the only way we can win the battles of life is by propping each other up when we are too tired to fight, and I cannot express fully how my heart soars with the generosity of family and friends, known and unknown, during this difficult time.

“12 But Moses’ hands were heavy and he grew tired. So they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it. Then Aaron and Hur held up his hands, one on one side and one on the other side; so it was that his hands were steady until the sun set. 13 So Joshua overwhelmed and defeated [the army] …with the edge of the sword.” (Exodus 17:12-13 AMP)

I have at least one more round of chemo after this current round, and probably six months after that of outpatient treatment and testing. The prognosis is good, we’re winning the war, and I can’t wait to fully celebrate my healing with you when the time is right. Life is good and I am grateful for the friendship, love, and kindness of all who have held me up and continue to hold me up. Thank you and God bless you.

With love and gratitude,

Juli