Now, finally, this is where it gets real. We leave in 2 days to fly out to Cancer Treatment Centers of America in Zion, Illinois. I haven't done much updating this week because other than preparing for and freaking out about the trip, there hasn't been anything else going on. This coming week though I will bombard this page with information as fast as we receive it. I need a place to record all the stuff I might forget; I need to keep those that want to know updated on Ryan's progress; and I need to start getting information about this cancer and the fight against it out into the great wide world.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a very reactive person. I react to the temperaments and environments around me, rather than setting the tone. The strength of that personality trait is that when something comes at me swinging, I can swing back just as hard. The problem with that in this situation is that it's not my fight. I feel like I'm standing behind a pane of glass, watching Ryan on the other side with this crazy attack happening to him. I am rattled and angry and ready to jump in, but I can't. I feel like I am about to explode with the readiness to fight, but there is nothing for me to go up against. It's the most disconcerting feeling I've ever had.

So what to do with all this energy rolling around inside me? It feels like it could completely break me apart, watching my husband being beat upon by this disease. Like I could be swallowed whole by the hopelessness of my vantage point. And man, I can't deny that there would be a relief in just laying down and letting go. In knowing what's going to happen is going to happen irregardless if I stand spectator or not. But at the end of the day, this isn't about me. What is easier or harder for me to handle doesn't factor in. So all this energy rolling around--it's got to be channeled... maybe up and over the glass to spring on top of Cancer's head and rip it off. Maybe just to  nurture and sustain Ryan while he fights his own battle. Maybe, God willing, to make a difference for the next person who blinks and finds themselves suddenly not in Kansas anymore, but rather heading to Zion, Illinois.

You guys, our friends and our family and our support--you can help. I need to know that we are going to do more than just survive this experience. There is no hope in just taking the hits and trying to last till the end. I cannot just pick up whatever pieces are left when this is done and make the most of them. That is not enough, and I will not accept that as the way to live with this. I have to do more than survive this---I have to use it the same way it is using Ryans body to change our world. The only clear start I can see right now is reaching out with the information we have. Please help me to do that--share this blog or link to it or like Ryan's facebook page. Retweet or just follow us @TheGISTonRyanV on twitter. Email anything you find relevant to anyone who you think it would mean anything too. Pass on the information, about this cancer, about how it can be fought, about our experience, about CTCA, anyway you can. This is my corner...this is where I can come from right now to fight alongside Ryan. This is what I can do to reach out to everyone coming behind us on this road. It's all I can do. Which sucks. But with your help at least I can do it loudly!!!