Life Update

Hi everyone,

This isn’t the blog post I had hoped to write, but I feel it’s important to share. When Reid was hospitalized, I started posting health updates on my Instagram channel. Unfortunately, the platform has been glitchy, and many of you have mentioned that you’re unable to join the channel or access the updates.

Though this is hard for me to write, I wanted to provide this update here, hoping it reaches those of you who’ve been concerned and following Reid’s journey.

On a bright Friday morning, Reid and I drove down to Mission Viejo for what we thought would be a routine colonoscopy. When we arrived, the nurse seemed a bit abrupt, telling us Reid wasn’t “cleaned out” enough for the procedure. Confused and frustrated, I asked for clarification. He had taken the Suprep and drank the water as instructed the night before. But apparently, he was supposed to drink more water. Note to self for next time—at least when I have to face the dreaded colonoscopy.

The nurse popped into the waiting room, advising me not to go far. I assured her I was just planning to grab some groceries two miles away while I waited. “Perfect!” she said. I walked out, headed for the parking garage, and drove to the grocery store. I picked up our usual staples that barely last two days in my house and returned to the parking lot. Sitting in the car, I took a deep breath.

Something in my gut told me the news I’d be getting in the next 20 minutes wouldn’t be good. I can’t explain how I knew—it was a sobering thought. But soon, I was distracted by the beauty around me: the boulevards lined with birds of paradise and the fresh morning air. A nice distraction from the heaviness that was settling in my heart.

I got the call from the surgery center that Reid was out and ready to go. I quickly made my way back. After a few minutes, they called my name. I found Reid in a corner office with our doctor. His usually cheerful face looked grave.

“I don’t have good news for you,” he said.

He explained there was a tumor growing in Reid’s colon, and we’d need a CT scan to see if it had spread. He even showed us pictures of the tumor, explaining that it had blocked the way, preventing them from completing the colonoscopy. Exactly the news I was dreading. Exactly what I didn’t want to hear.

A heavy swarm of emotions hit me—too hard to articulate. Grief hits differently. Even the simplest tasks, like getting directions to a new place this week, felt overwhelming and frustrating. I’ve found myself staring at walls, lost in thought. Grief hits differently.

When we got home, we shared the news with the kids, and we all cried together. I know this isn’t an ending, but the beginning of a long road ahead. Please understand if I take breaks between posting campaigns—bills still need to be paid, especially with hospital expenses. I had already signed two campaigns before we learned about Reid’s condition, so if you see me posting, it’s because I need to keep working. It’s not dissonant—it’s survival. Your support means everything right now. Like, comment, share—every bit helps. We’re in this together, right? And honestly, the distraction of work is welcome as we figure out our next steps.

We love you all. Please be patient with us as we figure this out.

Shalice

“But you oh Lord are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head”

Psalm 3:3