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cancer

Family

Updates, Honest Prayers, and a Bit of Good News

by Shalice Noel
written by Shalice Noel
Edited in Tezza with: Contrast & Vintage

Thank you for your patience, dear readers. I know it’s been quiet over here, but the silence hasn’t been from lack of movement — quite the opposite. We’ve been busy doing life in all its messy, miraculous, and sometimes maddening forms. And for us, “doing life” includes navigating the complex and often nuanced path of living with chronic illness — in our case, cancer.

Read more about his traumatic 18 day hospital stay HERE

Read more about his at home healing routine many of you have ask for.

The other day, a mom asked me tenderly, “Is Reid going to be okay?”
It caught me off guard. Not because it was inappropriate — honestly, it came from such a caring place. But the truth is, I don’t have a simple answer. And that’s the part of this journey that is the hardest: not always having a script. Sometimes people ask incredibly thoughtful questions. Other times… not so much. I’ve had to grow thick skin, learn to filter well-intended comments, and lean hard into grace — for others and for myself.

But the most beautiful thing in all of this? God has met me in the quietest and loudest parts of this storm. His Word has been a constant whisper of peace, a balm of encouragement, and the very breath I cling to when mine feels shallow.

A Quick Reid Update

Many of you have been asking how Reid’s doing. While I do try to share day-to-day updates through my Instagram “close friends” channel, I know it’s been glitchy for some of you. If you’ve been trying to get in and can’t, I see you. I’m sorry. Thankfully, this blog space is still here for us to connect more deeply and directly.

So here’s where we are:
Reid has two cancerous spots on his liver — one is 8mm, the other is 1cm. We first noticed them on his PET scan, and they became more clearly defined in the MRI. As you can imagine, those words are hard to type. Even harder to say out loud. But here’s the part where we hang our hope: we’re praying he can undergo an embolization procedure through Interventional Radiology (IR) rather than full surgery in the OR. The latter comes with more risks — physically, emotionally, and logistically — and we’re really hoping it can be avoided.

We’re waiting to hear this coming week if he’s a good candidate for IR. Waiting is always the hardest part, isn’t it?

How You Can Pray With Us

This community has always been so faithful to lift us up — and it truly means the world. Here are a few specific things we’d love prayer for:

  1. No further spread and that he qualifies for the IR procedure soon. Time feels precious.
  2. Mental health — for all of us, honestly. This road is long, and it can wear you down in ways you don’t expect.
  3. A praise report — Reid has had amazing energy lately and even jumped back into his 5:30am workouts! The other morning, Brooks looked up at him and asked, “Dad, how did you get your muscles back so fast?”
    That question did something beautiful for Reid’s spirit. Kids just know what to say sometimes.
  4. Another little praise — I was excused from Jury Duty! Honestly, such a needed relief in this season.

Thank you for being here — for praying, for checking in, for showing up for our family in big and small ways. We’re holding onto hope and trusting that God is still writing a beautiful story in the middle of this unknown.

With love,
Shalice

Health

Defying the Odds: Navigating the Uncertainty of Reid’s Cancer Journey

by Shalice Noel
written by Shalice Noel

It’s like trying to shake off jellyfish, like letting go of an old friend who hurt you—like cancer, something you beg not to return.

Since Reid’s 18-day hospital stay, we’ve been through countless doctor’s appointments, blood tests, and scans. The biggest mystery? When they performed surgery in December, the cancer was gone—something the doctors still can’t explain. Naturally, we started digging. How could the pathology show no cancer? Was this even possible?

Then came the Guardant Reveal test, which detected 0.075% cancer in his blood—a tiny amount. But despite that, the oncologist still wants him back on chemo and radiation. It’s a tough call, especially since Reid only made it through three rounds of chemo before his rupture and septic shock. Reid more about his 18 day hospital stay here.

We’re navigating uncharted territory here, trying to make sense of it all. See his daily protocol here sharing all the details of his vitamin and supplement intake.

We are incredibly grateful for the outpouring of love from this community, the prayers from around the world, and the kindness of so many people. Your support means the world to us. We will keep you updated what is next for Reid’s journey.

Family

Reid’s 18 day hospital stay

by Shalice Noel
written by Shalice Noel

Lyrics of Flowers by Samantha Ebert

Well, blue skies and hillsides feel so far away
And I wrote in my notebook that I’ve seen better days
Than the ones as of late, I can’t bear the weight

The rain won’t stop pouring out my window pane
And I haven’t left my bedroom in 76 days
I wish something would change
‘Cause I’m losing faith

So I brought it up in a desperate prayer
Lord, why are you keeping me here?
Then He said to me, “Child, I’m planting seeds
I’m a good God and I have a good plan
So trust that I’m holding a watering can
And someday you’ll see that flowers grow in the valley”

So whatever the reason, I’m barely getting by
I’ll trust it’s a season knowing that you’re by my side
Every step of the way
And I’ll be okay

‘Cause I brought it up in a desperate prayer
Lord, why are you keeping me here?
Then He said to me, “Child, I’m planting seeds
I’m a good God and I have a good plan”
So trust that I’m holding a watering can
And someday you’ll see that flowers grow in the valley
Mm, mm

I listened to this song on repeat during Reid’s 18 days in the hospital. So much has happened since that day, starting in the early hours of December 7, when Reid was hospitalized.

It was around 1:30 a.m. when I drove Reid to the ER. He was doubled over in pain, and I had to find a wheelchair abandoned in the parking lot to help him sit. I still can’t believe the amount of pain he was in. After vitals were taken and a painfully long wait in the ER, Reid was visibly shaking, his color was off, and his pulse was dangerously high. The doctors kept asking if he had a history of heart problems, which we denied.

Later, a surgeon came in and said Reid needed immediate surgery—he was in septic shock. After our difficult experience in the ER and hospital back in September, I insisted that he be transferred to City of Hope, even though it was over an hour away. (You can read more HERE about how LL missed Reid’s tumor on numerous scans.)

Somehow, we managed to get Reid’s surgeon, Dr. Andrea Kaiser, on the phone on a Saturday—a small miracle. Dr. Kaiser said they didn’t have an operating room available, and the wait would be too long for the emergency we were facing. Our surgeon, Dr. Martin Rosenthal, said we had less than 20 minutes, and surgery needed to happen right away. The gravity of his words hit me hard. Reid could barely speak and was shaking. I kept thinking, Is this the last time I’ll see him? My heart was racing, and tears were rolling down my face as Dr. Kaiser supported the surgery Dr. Rosenthal was about to perform.

In that moment, I looked at Dr. Rosenthal and asked him, “How many years have you been doing surgery?” I then said, “Please treat my husband as if he were your own son.” Can you picture that? It felt like a scene from a movie, the weight of the moment so intense. I was begging him with all my heart to do his best for Reid. I kissed Reid’s forehead, and he was quickly wheeled away to the operating room.

That night, Reid was in critical condition. I called on my prayer warriors to pray like mad for his health and well-being—and you did. You know who you are. After many hours of surgery, I received a call. The surgery was over, but the doctor wanted to talk to me in person. He said, “Drive safe.”

He met me in a special room and told me that Reid had gone into cardiac arrest and they had to perform CPR for four minutes. They couldn’t finish the surgery and left him open, putting him in the ICU. The days that followed were a blur, but also traumatic. Even as I recall it now, my heart tightens.

The next day, they had to go back in for a second surgery to complete the procedure, and Reid was returned to the ICU. One night during visiting hours, I noticed Reid looked ghostly white and something seemed wrong. A nurse gently touched my back and suggested I gather my things since visiting hours were about to end. I told her I needed to speak to the charge nurse to stay overnight because Reid didn’t look good. The nurse reassured me that he was in good hands.

I insisted on checking his temperature, which read 93°F—hypothermia. Later, they used a “bear hug” device to warm him up, but something still didn’t feel right. I asked her to page the on-call doctor. It was then that we learned Reid was losing blood rapidly, likely from internal bleeding after surgery. He underwent a CT scan, which revealed the bleed, and he received several blood transfusions.

Dr. Rosenthal took Reid back into surgery a third time to stop the bleeding and clean out the large amounts of blood. Friends, it was one of the scariest nights of my life. I was forced to go home, but I found comfort in listening to scripture for sleep on YouTube. Hour by hour, I called the nurse for updates, and she filled me in on his status—moving from CT to IT, receiving blood, and then back to the OR.

That night was terrifying, but in His mercy, God watched over Reid, and he eventually healed from three back-to-back surgeries. On the fifth night, December 12th, Reid was discharged from the ICU and moved to the 15th floor in the wee hours of the morning. This was a relief because it meant I could stay overnight and keep a closer eye on him.

December 12th was also my birthday, but I couldn’t sleep. Around 3:30 a.m., I called Reid’s room, and he was upset and hallucinating, something that never happens. He asked me to come, which was unusual for him. I asked the charge nurse for permission to visit before visiting hours, and thankfully, she said yes. I drove over at 4:30 a.m. and found Reid in a soiled gown, distressed, unattended, and still hallucinating from too many days on Lidocaine. I spoke with his nurse and charge nurse about the neglect, and we had him taken off the Lidocaine. I’ll note that up until this point, his care had been excellent, and I only expected the best. I’m sure you can agree, that this was just one of the reasons why we need advocates for our loved ones in the hospital.

Once Reid was off Lidocaine, he was still seeing things, but when I walked into the room, he smiled and said, “Happy Birthday!” That sweet moment was such a gift, and I’ll always treasure it.

As I reflect on those days, my heart is heavy, but God provided moments of grace throughout. Our marriage grew stronger, and we were supported by an incredible community of friends who brought us coffee, lunch, and even birthday gifts. I cannot express how grateful I am for them.

I did everything I could to help Reid get healthy again. Every day, I brought fresh beet juice, green juices, the best collagen, and vitamins. I massaged his feet and legs with magnesium lotion. I researched every wellness protocol I could find to help him recover. This routine continued, and I balanced trips to and from the hospital, managing the kids, and carrying around beet juice and homemade soups (sometimes spilling into my bag!).

This continued until Reid’s discharge on December 24th. Before leaving, his scans revealed a blood clot in his leg and an abscess in his abdomen. We took a deep breath, but thankfully, the abscess was just dried blood and wasn’t a major concern. He was put on blood thinners for the clot.

If I could share a few takeaways from this experience, it would be this: we learned so much. I wish I could forget those first five days, but funny enough, Reid was so sedated that he doesn’t remember them. I tell him he’s blessed not to remember.

Do I wonder how Reid got cancer in the first place? Absolutely. Do I believe that God brings trials to test and grow our faith? Absolutely. Do I hold fast to His word that says, “In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight?” Absolutely.

Reid is alive today, and that is a miracle. Can you join me in praising God for this?

Here are some takeaways:

If you’re wondering how to bless others in a similar situation with a loved on sin the hospital, here are some ways others have shown love and ministered to us.

1 Offer to bring a meal, a drink, or organize a meal train for them. I had a friend start a meal train for me and it was a huge blessing to our family.

2 Offer to clean their house. Especially if their hospital stay is long term. It is difficult on many levels to be away from home.

3 Offer a ride or to stay with their kids.

4 Offer to take down their Christmas tree – we were thankful to have help with this!

All of these things people have blessed us with!

Family

Reid’s initial diagnosis

by Shalice Noel
written by Shalice Noel

Many of you have asked how we found out about Reid’s diagnosis and what his symptoms were, especially since he’s young, fit, and we maintain a healthy diet. Honestly, it was a shock to us, too.

Before I share our journey, I want to remind everyone to never hesitate to schedule a colonoscopy. You never know what they’ll find, so don’t put it off!

Reid had been dealing with digestion issues for about three years. We often brushed it off, calling it the “Thoma stomach,” something his grandpa suffered with and I gave him extra enzymes to help. He’d occasionally complain about a stomach ache, but we didn’t think much more of it.

This past summer, we decided to join the annual family reunion in Texas to escape the Southern California heat. Maybe wishful thinking. We packed up the car with all our favorite snacks—because let’s be real, snacks are half the fun of a road trip! We had chomps, SmartSweets, sour gummies, licorice, and chips. It was definitely a fun car ride.

We made it to Flagstaff and spent the night at a less-than-5-star hotel, trying to make the most of it. But that night, Reid was in a lot of abdominal pain, worse than usual. He spent most of the night soaking in the hotel’s bathtub—the only thing that seemed to ease the pain in his back and abdomen. That’s when the questions started: Why has this pain been ongoing? Why is it getting worse?

At that point, morale hit rock bottom. The kids’ excitement deflated like a party balloon when we told them we had to turn around. It wasn’t easy giving them that news, especially after driving eight hours. The next morning, I drove us the eight hours back home.

Once back, we started researching and asking around for the best urgent care or ER options. Eventually, we ended up at an urgent care, where they advised us to go straight to the ER at Loma Linda Hospital. We arrived around 1 p.m. and stayed until 4 a.m., when Reid was finally admitted for potential surgery. That was the beginning of a nightmare week.

The doctors were general practitioners, each day bringing a new, negative opinion about his health. It was frustrating because no one could figure out what was going on. Was it diverticulitis? Ulcerative colitis? Crohn’s disease? They kept asking if Reid had a history of Crohn’s, which he didn’t.

Eventually, they performed “exploratory endoscopy” surgery. After seven incisions, they removed his appendix and an unexpected abscess. Later, we found out from pathology that his appendix was clean and didn’t need to be removed. Reid felt much better post-surgery, but we had to wait for the next milestones: gas and a bowel movement. Without those, he couldn’t be discharged. It felt like an eternity, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep up the daily hospital visits from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. The kids kept telling me they missed me at home, but they also understood how important it was for me to be there with Reid, advocating for him and pushing the doctors with the hard questions.

Finally, after a long week, we were cleared to go home. I hadn’t felt that kind of relief since we bought our house—it had been a while. It was such a joy to have him back under our roof, where I could make him homemade bone broth instead of the junk food from the hospital.

That first night, all seven of us slept so well, knowing Reid was home. I hope that helps answer some of your questions regarding how could Reid, a healthy 40 something get a bad report from his colonoscopy.

Stay tuned for more updates.

Holding onto our maker.

Shalice

@2025 Shalicenoel.com