This fundraiser is for Kelsey Martin, my wonderful partner and future wife, who is undergoing a second round of treatment for lymphoma. It's going to be a very difficult time for her, for our friends, our families. Here are her words on how we got here, where we are going, and why we need help:

For those who may not know me, my name is Kelsey Martin. I was born and raised in rural Texas, attended Texas A&M for undergraduate studies, and moved to Denver in 2018 for law school. I am an attorney focused on litigation for small businesses and non-profit clients. I am also an avid distance cyclist, reader, oil painter, and lucky partner to sweet Charlie, who is organizing this fundraising for me and serving as my 24/7 caretaker.

In May 2024, I received the devastating news that a large tumor was found in my chest cavity, quickly constricting the veins, arteries, and trachea. After three weeks of trying to rush me into medical care - between a biopsy to confirm lymphoma and then subtype, a number of ER visits for stroke and clotting-related complications - I was admitted inpatient to start emergency chemotherapy, and ultimately diagnosed with a rare form of lymphoma, primary mediastinal diffuse large B-cell lymphoma (PMBCL). At this juncture, my medical team gave me the mixed news that, based on the aggressiveness of the tumor, I likely had less than a week left, but, if the chemo began working in time, my subtype of lymphoma responded quite well to the regimen. I went through the arduous treatment for the next 6 months, which included 6 rounds of chemotherapy, with each round being inpatient for a week at a time on a 24/7 chemo trip, on a cocktail nicknamed “the red devil,” reviled as one of the more difficult regimens out there for cancer patients. All in all, I spent over one-third of my life in those few months at the hospital hooked up to chemotherapy.

The treatments yielded initial positive results. After the third round, a PET confirmed I was in complete remission, which was the short-term goal, the long-term goal being a cure. The next year was spent unparsing the brutal after-effects of chemotherapy and cancer. Between severe cognitive impairment caused by the chemo drugs - which left me out of work for longer than planned for - the journey of being pushed into menopause, and a year later, coming back out of it, suffering muscle loss, learning to handle the dysphoria that comes with hair loss, and navigating a complex PTSD diagnosis, recovery was a never a linear journey.

My cure date was set for September 20, 2026, exactly two years after my last day of chemotherapy. Unfortunately, that day will now come and go with no significance other than the inevitable “what ifs.”

At the beginning of January this year, I began experiencing what I can only describe as generalized sickness. After several weeks of this, one of my lymph nodes became quite irritated - a typical side effect of being sick - but given my history, I immediately went in for a CT. Within two weeks, I had the CT, PET, a needle biopsy, and a surgical excision of the node, which confirmed I’d had a recurrence of the lymphoma.

We are now considering second-line treatments because the first-line chemotherapy did not achieve a cure. The first step will be to go through radiation for two weeks, then on to an induction chemotherapy that is meant to put me back in remission. There will be a number of tests to confirm remission, and if successful, I will live in the hospital for a month, undergoing a round of high-dose chemo followed by a full stem cell transplant. If I am not pushed to remission after the induction chemotherapy, we will pursue a different treatment called CAR T-cell therapy. Both options have a lower prognosis than my summer 2024 treatment, as they are second-line, of course, but we still feel confident in the results.

Due to the treatment, I will have large medical bills spanning the next portion of my medical care. As with long-term illnesses like this, where cancer has already affected two years of my life, this medical care is unpredictable and will likely span at least a few years. There will be regular oncology visits, scans, and tests, as well as the possibility of future treatment. I will also be going on a leave of absence from work again, to focus on treatment and recovery, for an indefinite period of time. Truly - any amount that you can help with means the world to me.