Me, My Oncologist & Artificial Intelligence (AI)

My first conversation with my oncologist after my PET scan in March of 2025, I confided in him that because it was late in the evening, and what I read of the results on MyChart were unsettling, so I ran them through an AI platform, which made them more unsettling. Turns out, AI was dead on, but without the treatment plan my oncologist had already put it in place and felt very comfortable about. This puts my mind at ease, but still the results become an addition to my current battle with Cholangiocarcinoma.

I am scheduled in April 2025 for a Lung Biopsy because the PET scan revealed a large mass on my left lung and activity in my lymph nodes around my chest area. The biopsy will determine whether the cancer is singular or dual. The chemo/immunotherapy treatment plan I am currently on according to my oncologist would be similar treatment for both.

The tension between receiving unsettling news late at night and turning to AI for clarity is a modern one. AI confirming my fears is both validating and disturbing, especially without the full clinical context and emotional support a physician can provide.

My oncologist’s reassurance—already having a treatment plan in place and being confident in it—brings a crucial counterbalance. It shows not only medical readiness but an understanding of my emotional needs. His ability to remain composed and forward-looking helps me to recenter the focus on action and agency rather than fear.

The upcoming lung biopsy, with its potential to redefine my diagnosis (one cancer or two), naturally adds a layer of stress. But I’m already on a treatment path that my oncologist believes is appropriate for either scenario. That’s a meaningful piece of stability in an otherwise shifting landscape.

This moment feels like a demonstration of strength not just in enduring the physical fight but in being proactive and emotionally honest, with a whole lot of tenacity. Consulting AI helped me with understanding and control, even when the answers were hard. This experience has shown me, rather than spiral, anchoring myself in the trust of my oncologist and my treatment plan.

Yes, the scan results added weight to my battle, but so did my resolve to face them head-on, seek insight, and lean into the partnership with my medical team, AI, and together navigate an incredibly difficult journey with intellect, vulnerability, and courage—and that’s powerful.

The Perfect Triad!

Until Tomorrow,

Steve

My Story: Why Victory Thru Faith

 An Invitation to Walk This Journey with Me

On January 4th, 2021, I was admitted to the University of Utah Medical Center with necrotizing pancreatitis—a severe condition where inflammation causes parts of the pancreas to die. That dead tissue became infected, and things quickly turned critical.

I don’t remember much of the first 28 days. I was in a coma. The doctors didn’t think I’d make it through the first night. I was told later that when I finally woke up, my admitting physician greeted me with, “Welcome back—do you know who I am?” I replied, “Should I?”

From that point on, my life changed.

I spent four months in the hospital, followed by three months in a skilled nursing facility, learning how to walk and talk. I went home with three biliary tubes still attached, returning to the hospital every 6–8 weeks for exchanges until they were eventually replaced with internal stents.

---

Enter: Cholangiocarcinoma

On February 11th, 2025, I received another life-altering diagnosis: Stage IV Cholangiocarcinoma (Bile Duct Cancer). Strangely, I wasn’t surprised. Maybe it was the dark place my mind went during those days in the coma. Maybe it was God preparing me in ways I couldn’t understand at the time.

Life doesn’t always give warnings. It gives moments—some devastating, others divine. And this moment, this diagnosis, is now part of my story. But it’s not the whole story.

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Why Victory Thru Faith?

Because this journey isn’t just about disease—it's about faith, resilience, and the unshakable hope that carries me forward.

I’ve never claimed to be perfect. I’ve strayed, wandered, and lived in ways I know didn’t please God. But even then, He never left me. In my darkest seasons, He found a way to remind me of His presence—sometimes just for a moment, but always enough.

I consider myself spiritual, not religious. But my faith in Jesus Christ is what sustains me now. Whatever comes, I know I’m not alone.

---

Where This All Began

After my diagnosis, I went searching online—looking for real, honest stories from people battling Cholangiocarcinoma. I found some. But not enough. Especially not stories told from the trenches—while still in the fight.

That’s when I knew: I had to share my own.

What began as a blog has become something bigger—a platform of purpose:
👉 www.victorythrufaith.org

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The Mission

"To raise awareness and advance research by empowering Cholangiocarcinoma patients to contribute during and after treatment.
Inspired by Isaiah 40:31, Victory Thru Faith helps others rise above life’s challenges with renewed strength, hope, and faith in God. We are committed to being a source of light and encouragement for those navigating illness, pain, or uncertainty—trusting in God's power to bring healing and purpose."

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What You’ll Find Here

This blog will be a space of raw honesty, faith, and hope—a place where the journey is shared, not sugar-coated. Here’s what I’ll be posting:

• Treatment Updates – The ups, the downs, and everything in between.
• Reflections on Faith – How my walk with God strengthens me through it all.
• Day-to-Day Realities – What it's really like to live with cancer.
• Moments of Gratitude – Because even in pain, there’s beauty.

---

Walking This Road Together

I won’t pretend to have all the answers. I’m still learning, still processing, still fighting. But one thing I know for sure—we weren’t made to walk through our hardest battles alone.

Whether you're a fellow patient, a caregiver, a survivor, or someone looking for encouragement, I invite you to join me. Let’s walk this together.

No matter what lies ahead, we choose to Fight with Faith.

Thank you for being here. I’m pleased to share this journey with you.

— Steve

How Can I Help?

 March 26, 2025

Today’s the first time I’ve felt nauseous. I took a prochlorperazine at 1:30 p.m., and it seems to be helping. I’ve also got mild cold symptoms — just the sniffles and a tiny cold sore. Nothing like the brutal colds or flu I had as a kid.

Lately, one question keeps running through my head: “How can I help?”

In January 2021, I was admitted to the University of Utah Medical Center with necrotizing pancreatitis. Looking back, that might have been the start of what eventually led to my cholangiocarcinoma diagnosis.

Since joining these Facebook groups, even briefly, I’ve been overwhelmed — in the best way — by the support, kindness, and compassion I’ve found. I’ve met some incredible people.

And still, “How can I help?” is the question I keep coming back to as I scroll through posts. Sometimes I comment — a few words of encouragement, a question, or a bit of my own story. Other times, I just listen and learn, or forward the post to someone I know may have an answer. I'm still new to all this.

As I shared recently: “I am of faith, with a voice, and on a mission.” That mission is to walk through this journey, step by step, however it unfolds. These groups give me strength. They make the path less lonely.

I was diagnosed on February 11, 2025. Right away, I started reading everything I could about cholangiocarcinoma — treatments, survival stats, patient stories. But what I couldn’t find was the process — the everyday reality of living through it. So, I decided to document mine, in case it helps someone else just starting out. That’s what you’re reading here.

Everyone’s path is different — mentally, physically, spiritually — but maybe mine can be one more voice of support in the mix.

I’ve seen people beat the odds. That gives me hope. What once felt like a bleak diagnosis now feels like a mission. This community is made up of trailblazers. And like the saying goes, a cord of many strands is not easily broken.

Before I go further, I want to share something my sister wrote after my PET scan last week. She’s officially declared herself my caregiver — and, honestly, she’ll probably be the one to do it. What she wrote in her journal hit me hard. It’s too good not to share.

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Random Thots of a Batshit Caregiver

3:03 a.m. Cup of coffee #2. Happy March 26, 2025, to me.

Yesterday, I took my brother in for his first PET scan. When he came out, I told him I was starving. He says, “Yeah, I’m craving alkaline batteries. Can we hit Radio Shack?” I lost it — full-on cackling in the waiting room. It felt so good to laugh.

While I was waiting, I found myself singing He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother (yes, I’m that person), and joking with the nurses about how brothers are a pain in the ass. We laughed. It helped.

Laughter matters. My brother is reminding me of that — and I’m weirdly grateful.

But let’s be honest: cancer is terrifying. It’s a gut-punch. Still, you have to grab the moments when they show up. Life doesn’t wait for your plans. It just barrels through. You’re not in charge. But if you stay present and feel the real stuff, you start to see how precious the small moments really are.

We don’t know what tomorrow holds — or even this afternoon. So we keep going, one blessing at a time.

After I dropped him off, I got hit with this wave of regret — like, why didn’t we spend more time together before? Talking. Laughing. Being real. I’ve never been into small talk. I want the honest, messy, gut-level conversations. And now we’re having them. Finally.

We’re not young anymore. But maybe that’s okay. You stop wasting what matters.

Until tomorrow,
—Steve

Check out the new website, www.victorythrufaith.org Only the home page is live and more pages are being developed as we speak... Some you won't wanna miss!

Finding Strength, Shifting Schedules, and Launching Victory Thru Faith

 March 27th, 2025 – VTF Update

The day started off with a wave of fatigue—nothing extreme, just a kind of sluggishness. But as the hours passed, my energy picked up. I can’t tell if that’s the treatment doing its thing or just the reality of getting older.

This afternoon, I had the privilege of speaking with Lisa Craine, a mentor and global advocate for cholangiocarcinoma patients. She’s also the founder of Craine’s Cholangiocarcinoma Crew, a nonprofit focused on hope through research, mentorship, and advocacy.

That’s exactly what Lisa gave me today—hope.

Right before our call, I remembered that I have a chemo/immunotherapy session scheduled for April 8th. It’s a long one—five and a half hours—and it overlaps with the Welcome Dinner for the 2025 Cholangiocarcinoma Foundation Conference (5:30–7:30 p.m.). I’m now scrambling to reschedule for the day before. One way or another, I will be at that dinner.

On a lighter note, I needed a suit altered for the event, and my younger sister Missy snuck in and paid for it. Total surprise. God bless her—things are tight financially, and that gesture meant a lot.

Today also marked the launch of the Victory Thru Faith website. Right now, only the Home Page is live, but more pages and content are on the way. You can check it out at: www.victorythrufaith.org

My personal blog, Victory Thru Faith: My Journey Thru Cancer, will also live on the site. The mission? To raise awareness and drive research forward by empowering cholangiocarcinoma patients to take part in the process—during and after treatment.

After my diagnosis, I found a lot of stories about outcomes—but not much about the journey. That’s why I’ve chosen to share mine, in real time, with all its ups and downs. This disease is real. So are we.

Our Mission:
Inspired by Isaiah 40:31, Victory Thru Faith helps others rise above life’s challenges with renewed strength, hope, and faith in God. We are committed to being a source of light and encouragement for those navigating illness, pain, or uncertainty—trusting in God's power to bring healing and purpose.

Grateful doesn’t even begin to cover it. Right now, I’m thankful for the days when the side effects stay quiet—and for moments like these, when I can share progress, purpose, and peace.

Until Tomorrow,

Steve

A New Chapter in the Fight — Facing What’s Next with Faith

 March 27, 2025 

Two days ago, I got the results from my latest PET scan. Medical reports are never easy to read, but I want to be open and share what’s really going on — in plain terms.

The results came on Tuesday evening. I skimmed them at first, then ran the report through my A.I. tool to get a better read. What I saw kept me up all night — especially the part about survival time.

Here’s the update:
The cancer in my liver (cholangiocarcinoma) is still active and has grown slightly. It may also have spread to nearby lymph nodes and possibly an area near my gallbladder. That wasn’t unexpected.

But what hit me hard was something new: a large, active mass in my left lung. It’s surrounded by lymph nodes that also lit up on the scan. The radiologist thinks it could be a separate lung cancer, not just a spread from the liver.

This afternoon, I talked to my oncologist. He saw the scan results too, along with a report from TEMPUS — a company that collects massive clinical and molecular data to help guide cancer treatment.

He thinks it’s all still one cancer, not two, but we won’t know for sure until I get a lung biopsy later this week. The silver lining is that if it is lung cancer, the current treatment plan won’t need to change much. We’ll follow up with a CT scan in about a month.

It’s not the news I was hoping for — but it’s not the worst either. The treatment has always been palliative. And for now, I’m still standing.

Before I wrap this up, I want to share a meme I made Tuesday night after reading my MyChart results. It’s a reminder to myself, and maybe to you too:

We Are Warriors.

I’m still moving forward. Not alone — but with God walking beside me, and with the strength I draw from this community.

“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles…”
— Isaiah 40:31

Until tomorrow, 

Steve

Lisa's Story

 MARCH 26, 2025

I’m still waiting to speak with my oncologist about the results of my PET scan from yesterday. I did see the report last night, but I’d prefer not to share any thoughts publicly until I’ve had a chance to review it with my doctor.

In the meantime, if you haven’t already watched Lisa’s story, I encourage you to do so. It’s a powerful example of hope and resilience—going from an ordinary life to sudden devastation, and then coming back stronger than ever. 

In her own words, she’s an “Emotional Italian,” a Mentor, and an Advocate. To me, she’s also one of my heroes. 

Enjoy this video!

Until tomorrow, 

Steve

Hoping For The Best

 March 25, 2025

Today was my PET scan. Like with treatment, I was a little anxious going in, but it turned out to be just another step on this path — even if the path is palliative. Still, forward is forward.

The process was pretty much what I expected after doing some research. I met with Tremaine, my Nuclear Medicine Tech at Huntsman Cancer Institute. Super calm, kind energy — the kind of person who instantly makes you feel at ease.

After answering a few questions, I settled into a large hospital recliner (surprisingly comfy). Tremaine gave me the radiated glucose, and I promptly dozed off for about 45 minutes. A solid reminder of the underrated glory of a mid-afternoon power nap.

Next up was the actual scan. Three passes, just as Tremaine had explained earlier, and that was it. Quick and easy. I already joked about this on Facebook, but yeah — afterward, I suddenly craved alkaline batteries and had the urge to visit a Radio Shack. Tasteless? Maybe. Still made me laugh.

Chemo treatment #2 was yesterday, and I’m still waiting on the big side effects everyone talks about. Not complaining, just... waiting for the other shoe to drop. In the meantime, I’ll take the win.

Tomorrow, I’m planning to finally get my Meta glasses set up for a little walkabout downtown Salt Lake City, around the Salt Palace — where the April Cholangiocarcinoma Conference will be held. Once I figure the glasses out, I’ll share it in the groups I’m part of.

Speaking of those groups — they’ve been incredible. The support, the shared knowledge, the sense of not being alone in this — it’s real. If you’re navigating this disease, don’t do it in isolation. These Facebook groups have been lifelines:

• https://www.facebook.com/groups/CHOLANGIOCARCINOMAsupportGroup/

• https://www.facebook.com/groups/CCTargetedTherapy/

• https://www.facebook.com/groups/402630393233015/

They’re full of people from all over the world, all facing Cholangiocarcinoma. And in that shared experience, you find even more common ground than you expect.

In closing tonight, I want to say thank you to everyone for your support — especially my little sister, Missy. This is just as hard on her, if not harder. Also, tomorrow I’ll be posting some pics and video from the last couple of days, along with the walkabout video. Stay tuned.

Until Tomorrow... Steve

PS: Let me know what you think or feel about the new Facebook header. Also, I would like to rotate the pics in the puzzle pieces. If you want, you can send me a pic with reasonably good resolution to: victorythrufaithteam@gmail.com 

Alkaline Batteries?

 MARCH 24, 2025

Today, I want to start by sharing something truly special. During my treatment, I had the pleasure of meeting two amazing people—Matt and Karli. We connected just a few days ago through the Cholangiocarcinoma Facebook Group, and they came to see me in person today. That kind of support means the world to me.

I’ve said it before, but it’s worth repeating—people in these types of support groups feel like family. I’ve never been one for groupthink... until now. This experience is changing me in ways I never expected.

Today also marked the end of my first 21-day treatment cycle (two weeks on, one week off). Week one includes chemo and immunotherapy, and week two is chemo only. On those treatment days, I also have lab work and a consult with Paula, my oncology nurse from Dr. Gilcrease’s team.

During our conversation, I asked Paula a few questions:

• How long will I be on treatment initially?
  She said they’ll likely continue for 2–3 months before doing another CT scan to reassess.

• Will side effects increase as treatment goes on?
  Her answer: “It’s different for everyone.” So far, I’ve been fortunate and haven’t experienced the more common side effects.

I also asked about something called “Tempus.” After talking with Matt and Karli, I’ve decided to complete the paperwork and send it in tonight. It’s a genomic testing service that helps personalize future treatment options based on my unique genetic makeup. Sounds promising.

I mentioned to Paula that I’d had a little facial redness and dry skin the last couple of days, but it cleared up with some over-the-counter 1% hydrocortisone. I’ve dealt with this before and used to have a prescription steroid cream. She said if it returns or worsens, she can prescribe something—but for now, we’ll stick with what’s working. Whether it’s a side effect or not remains to be seen.

For now, it’s a waiting game. We’ll reevaluate everything in a few months. In the meantime, I have a PET scan scheduled for tomorrow. Depending on the results, there may be some changes to the treatment plan.

When we got home, my sister Missy and I had a good laugh over something silly—the word “FOB.” You know, those little security devices you use to get into buildings? Somehow, we came up with about a hundred different ways to say it. Just one of those goofy moments you don’t plan but really enjoy.

Before I close, I want to mention something really helpful: Daveen, a patient and family support specialist at Huntsman Cancer Institute, dropped by during my treatment. She told me about a weekly Zoom men’s group for patients who are walking a similar path. If you’re interested in joining, feel free to email me at victorythrufaithteam@gmail.com. I’ll be reaching out to the moderator tonight to get all the details and the link.

And finally, something truly heartwarming happened this morning. My oldest daughter and I haven’t been in touch much lately. Last night, I sent her an email, and this morning she responded—positively. It feels like the start of a new chapter for us, and I couldn’t be more grateful.

Until tomorrow…
—Steve

Five Days Running

 FIVE DAYS RUNNING

I woke up a little after 6:00 a.m. today. It’s been five days since my first round of chemo and immunotherapy. Over the past couple of days, I’ve noticed some stiffness, especially in my neck. I’ve been drinking at least 80 ounces of water daily since treatment started, so I’m not sure if the stiffness is related.

So far, I haven’t had any nausea or digestive issues, but yesterday afternoon my face became extremely dry and red. I applied hydrocortisone cream before bed, and while it’s less sore this morning, the redness is still there.

Yesterday, I joined two Facebook support groups: Cholangiocarcinoma Support Group and Cholangiocarcinoma Immunotherapy & Targeted Therapy. The people there are incredible, and their stories really hit home. I’ve never been one to join groups like this, but just like with the Cholangiocarcinoma Foundation, these communities already feel like family. They’ve been a true blessing.

My second treatment is tomorrow at the Huntsman Cancer Institute in Salt Lake City. So far, side effects from the first round have been mild. I’ve heard so many different stories, but the one thing that keeps coming up is: “It’s different for everyone.” I’m choosing to believe that—and so far, so good.

“We have power over what we believe, and what we believe has power over us.”

 

Oops... Got Sidetracked

I woke up around 3:45 a.m. feeling stiff and sore—just the usual signs of aging. My mouth was dry, so I drank about 15 ounces of water. I had taken Olanzapine before bed, and I think it's helping—not just with sleep, but with the nausea too.

Mornings like this, especially with a palliative diagnosis, naturally bring up spiritual thoughts. Not necessarily religious, but more about what I believe are God’s design laws. I think a lot of people carry guilt over past mistakes—stuff that gets buried deep. But if we’re willing to face the parts of ourselves we usually avoid, we can start to bring them into the light. And once we do, they lose their grip.

I originally planned to write more about the design law of redemption today. But instead, I found myself on Facebook and came across two cholangiocarcinoma support groups: The Cholangiocarcinoma Support Group and Cholangiocarcinoma Immunotherapy & Targeted Therapy. I spent most of my free time reading and replying to posts in these communities. There’s a lot of powerful, emotional sharing in those spaces—stories of pain, hope, and success. I got some great advice, too.

I’m grateful to be part of both groups and really looking forward to meeting as many members as I can at the upcoming conference, April 9–11, 2025, at the Salt Palace in Salt Lake City, Utah.

More info and registration are available through the Cholangiocarcinoma Foundation.

Until tomorrow—

As The Days Pass

March 21, 2025 – As The Days Pass

I woke up this morning with a pounding headache and a mouth dry as bone. I drank about 20 oz of water before even getting out of bed. Thankfully, within 15 minutes, both the headache and dry mouth started to ease.

So far, I haven’t had any nausea or vomiting. Yesterday, I ate small meals and snacks throughout the day — a tip I picked up from the Cholangiocarcinoma Foundation website. Since starting treatment on Tuesday, I’ve been taking one Olanzapine at bedtime. It’s helped me sleep better. I haven’t needed the nausea meds yet (Ondansetron or Prochlorperazine). As they say, everyone reacts to treatment differently. Maybe this is just how it’s showing up for me.

This morning I did notice some blurry vision. I’ll bring it up at my next treatment on Monday, March 24. My treatments follow a 21-day cycle: two weeks on, one week off.

Since my diagnosis, finding the Cholangiocarcinoma Foundation has been a real blessing. If you’re newly diagnosed or living with this cancer, it’s a solid place to get answers, learn about clinical trials, and stay on top of new developments.

I recommend watching the video below about Stephanie, 52, a respected leader in the international human rights field. Her work has impacted lives around the world — and now she’s relying on the work of medical science to help save hers.

Stephanie started feeling unwell while on vacation. What followed was a devastating diagnosis: cholangiocarcinoma — a rare gastrointestinal cancer affecting the bile ducts. Only about 8,000 cases are diagnosed in the U.S. each year, compared to more than 100,000 colon cancer cases and over 200,000 lung cancer cases.

Cholangiocarcinoma affects the bile ducts, which carry bile from the liver to the small intestine. Bile helps digest fat and is produced in the liver, stored in the gallbladder. One of the challenges of this disease is that early symptoms are vague, leading to late diagnoses. Symptoms can include unexplained weight loss, fatigue, itching, migraines, dark urine, and abdominal pain.

Before I wrap up for today, I want to share a video I made a couple of weeks ago on one of God’s design laws: forgiveness. In today’s world, the concept of Jesus as Savior often overshadows His role as Teacher — and with that, the practice of forgiveness can get lost. But forgiveness isn’t optional. Whether you’re the one offering it or the one needing it, both sides are essential for healing. Without it, the emotional toll can be heavy.

Here’s the video link: “Radical Forgiveness”

Until tomorrow...

 March 20, 2025 – The First Few Days After Treatment

It’s been two days since my first chemo/immunotherapy session, and I’m still trying to put into words how I feel. My head feels a little foggy—not in a painful way, just… off. There’s a strange sensation in my body, like a low hum, reminding me that something serious is happening beneath the surface.

I expected side effects, but so far, it’s less about pain and more about noticing. I can tell the treatment is doing something, even if I don’t fully understand what that is yet.

When I started Victory Thru Faith, I wanted it to be real—but also hopeful. This isn’t just my story. So many people go through this, and if sharing what I’m feeling helps even one person feel less alone, it’s worth it.

So now I want to hear from you. Whether you’re a patient, a caregiver, or just someone curious about cholangiocarcinoma—what do you want to know? Let’s talk. Leave a comment, send a message, or just follow along.
We’re in this together.

The Day After

 THE DAY AFTER

I didn’t fall asleep until after 2 a.m. Took an Olanzapine around 9:45 p.m. and woke up feeling a little heavy, but no nausea.

Had a meatloaf sandwich in the late afternoon and some Greek yogurt with walnuts about an hour before bed.

I posted the video under "My First Day of Chemo" below. So far, no side effects—no nausea, no fatigue—but it’s only day one. I’ve heard they might kick in after two or three days. Guess I’ll find out soon enough.

It’s 7:30 p.m., and I’m starting to wind down.

Until tomorrow…

Here is the video on my first day in treatment. THERE WILL BE MORE EDITS!

 CHEMO/IMMUNOTHERAPY DAY 

I woke up at 2:30 a.m. this morning. I couldn’t get back to sleep so, I just got some things ready for my first chemo/immunotherapy session.

My sister texted around 6:30 a.m. this morning after I had texted her about 5:50 a.m., asking her how the weather was in Herriman, UT (She was coming to pick me up for treatment). She responded, “It’s great.” Unbeknownst to me, she was in the parking lot praying her rosary. Herriman is about a 30–40-minute drive to where I live, and we had a sizeable snowstorm come in overnight. She wanted to make sure she was here on time, because my treatment started at 7:30 a.m. That’s where support from family is so incredible, and very much appreciated.

Once we got to the clinic, I felt a little anxious, but not a lot. Educating myself where I needed, did help to ease the initial anxiety. I know there will be more questions, and reactions that will create other anxious moments, but for right now, one moment at a time will suffice.

My treatment went as smoothly as I could imagine. I was anticipating 8 hours of treatment on this first visit; we were done in about five and a half hours.

It’s now 4:54 p.m., and I have been up since 2:30 this morning. I ate a meatloaf sandwich about an hour ago, and feeling tired, so I’m going to post this now and lay down for a bit.

Until tomorrow (or later tonight)…

 

 LABS... THEN CHEMO

Going to do labs in a couple hours and meet with my oncology nurse. The Cholangiocarcinoma Foundation (https://www.cholangiocarcinoma.org/) website has answered a lot of questions prior to my first chemotherapy treatment tomorrow.

Met with Paula and she went over a few expectations like nausea, fatigue, and what to look for like fever, pain, etc.

I did get some good news from my Gastroenterologist, Dr. Morris. When I had two stents replaced a week ago, he did another liver biopsy deeper down and found no conclusive evidence of cancer. He forwarded the results to my oncologist and oncology surgeon. So, a bright spot has appeared!

I hope the one thing that gets me through this is my tenacity, and the will to live out the best life I possibly can into this unknown journey. I can’t express enough to anyone who may be reading this, the power of faith, and the calming effect of knowing God is real… Not a belief, but real!

I’ll be starting chemotherapy tomorrow and will be there most of the day. I actually have a certain calm about everything right now, realizing that whatever happens… happens!

Until tomorrow…

 LABS TOMORROW:

I’m two days away from my first chemotherapy treatment. I go in the morning to have labs done and talk with my oncologist’s nurse. Hopefully I can get some more questions answered.

I don’t have much of anything to say tonight. It’s a little after 7:00 p.m. here in Salt Lake City, so I think I’m going to kick back and relax….

Until tomorrow…

 

Holding On to Faith: Strength in the Midst of the Storm

Today, as I sat down to write, I put on the soundtrack from Medicine Man. If you’ve never seen the movie, I highly recommend it. It’s hard to categorize—part romance, part story of perseverance, maybe just an average film with an unforgettable soundtrack. But with Sean Connery and Lorraine Bracco in the lead, it’s hard to go wrong.

The first thing that is going through my mind right now is I feel very grateful to have the support of my sister, and some very close friends, which I know that many do not have. I know this is going to be a battle in the upcoming days, weeks, months, and with God’s grace, years.

Before my diagnosis of Stage 4 Cholangiocarcinoma, I started a YouTube channel called Beyond Politics: Purpose Thru Spiritual Unity, (which I have had to put on hold for the time being). I’ve never been religious, but I’ve always been spiritual. I know where my salvation lies. Unlike religion, which often bends teachings to fit doctrine, spirituality is deeply personal—an unshakable connection that doesn’t need validation from dogma.

As I stand on the threshold of what’s ahead, holding onto my faith gives me a peace I can’t find anywhere else.

Carl Jung, the Swiss psychologist, was once asked if he believed in God. At the beginning of his career, he said, “Yes.” Later in life, when asked again, his response was different. He hesitated, then simply said, “I know.”

That shift—from belief to knowing—is profound.

I believe that early on, a shift from intellectual belief to personal experience, that Jung’s belief in God may have been shaped by tradition and teachings. But through deep exploration of the unconscious, mystical experiences, and synchronicity, he moved from accepting God as an idea to experiencing God as a reality.

Jung emphasized that true spiritual knowledge doesn’t come from doctrine but from lived experience. The unconscious, dreams, and archetypes weren’t just psychological constructs; they revealed something undeniably real.

His statement aligns with a key distinction in many spiritual traditions: faith (belief without proof) vs. gnosis (inner knowledge). For Jung, God was no longer a question—it was a certainty, rooted in direct experience.

Since my hospitalization in 2021 for necrotizing pancreatitis, I’ve become more aware of my spiritual self. A book a friend sent me, Could It Be This Simple? by Dr. Timothy Jennings, started me down a path of deeper understanding. It led me to explore the contrast between God’s Design Laws and man’s-imposed laws.

Man’s imposed law is about power, coercion, and control. God’s Design Laws, on the other hand, are about freedom, love, forgiveness, and natural consequences. They aren’t imposed—they simply are.

I explored this in one of my YouTube videos, discussing God’s Design Law of Freedom. (Link here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fy1DkbZqAMI&t=13s)

Now, as I begin treatment in a few days, I feel an unshakable certainty. Chemotherapy will take its toll—on my body and mind. But somehow, through faith, I believe the burden will be softened. Not because I believe in something, but because I know.

This is my story, and I am the one who knows. I know God—not just in belief, but in certainty. And no matter what the outcome, this story will be told for a reason.

Until tomorrow… 

Four days until my first chemotherapy treatment. I’m focusing on staying well-hydrated. From what I’ve read, a good rule of thumb is to drink half your body weight in ounces of water.

I started juicing a few days ago and really enjoy it. The drinks taste great, and I’ve been using the leftover pulp to make bread. The downside is the added sugar in the bread—I’m looking for a substitute. This article from MD Anderson Cancer Center has helpful information about sugar intake during treatment:
🔗 Sugar and Cancer Treatment

I’ve also been reading about Cholangiocarcinoma. It’s a rare cancer, but I’m encouraged by new treatments and positive patient experiences. The Cholangiocarcinoma Foundation is an excellent resource:
🔗 Cholangiocarcinoma Foundation

They offer a patient information manual to help navigate treatment—just sign up on their site. They also have active social media accounts with updates and support.

Here are three YouTube videos that explain Cholangiocarcinoma:
📹 Part One: Watch here
📹 Part Two: Watch here
📹 Part Three: Watch here

Another concern is hair loss. I know it’s coming, maybe sooner, maybe later. This Mayo Clinic article explains what to expect during and after chemotherapy:
🔗 Hair Loss and Chemotherapy

As Tuesday approaches, I’m feeling anxious despite all the helpful information I’ve found. I’ll continue sharing updates and resources as I go.

 Five Days to Chemo: Facing Fear, Finding Faith

I’m five days away from starting chemotherapy. I’ve read and watched numerous videos, but I still feel anxious. Strangely, I even felt anxious last night about starting this blog.

Sharing something as personal as my journey with cancer stirs up mixed emotions. Putting my thoughts, fears, and faith out into the world makes me feel vulnerable.

Here’s what’s been on my mind:

• Fear of Judgment – Will people understand what I’m going through. How will they react?
• Reality Setting In – Writing things down makes them feel more real, which can be hard to process.
• Loss of Control – Once I share something, I can’t take it back. That’s unsettling.
• Expectation Pressure – Now that I’ve started, will I feel obligated to keep posting?

But here’s the thing—this blog is for me first. It’s a space to express my thoughts, process my emotions, and document this journey in my own way. Maybe feeling anxious about it is normal. In a situation where I have little control... writing, brings back a little control.

If sharing my experience eases someone else’s anxiety, then it’s worth it. I didn’t expect to feel this way after posting, but it tells me this journey matters. Acknowledging these feelings might even be part of the healing process.

Three scriptures have brought me comfort in difficult times:

The first is Isaiah 40:31:

“…but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not be weary, they will walk and not be faint.”

This verse reminds me that if I put my faith in God, He will guide me.

The second is John 20:29:

“Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet believed.”

Faith isn’t about proof; it’s a deep belief in God and something greater beyond this life. Think of those who push forward despite impossible odds—that’s faith in action.

The third is Isaiah 43:18-19:

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See what I do for you now! I am giving you a road thru the wilderness, and streams of water there.”

It’s easy to get stuck in the past—we see it daily in society, social media, and politics. Learning from the past is one thing, but dwelling on it is its own kind of cancer.

This journey won’t be easy, and others before me have undergone incredible hardships dealing with this disease and have endured. I believe faith and forward movement are the keys to getting through it.

Until tomorrow…

My First Post

I launched this blog, Victory Thru Faith, today. Since my Stage 4 bile duct cancer diagnosis on February 11, 2025, I’ve searched the internet for stories of others facing the same battle—looking for experiences, progress updates, expectations, results, and answers. I found some powerful stories, which I’ll be sharing here.

I also needed an outlet for my thoughts and concerns. At the same time, I hope my experience helps someone else navigate what begins for me on March 18, 2025.

Right now, I feel incredibly grateful to be receiving treatment at the University of Utah’s Huntsman Cancer Center, one of the world’s top hospitals. I have an outstanding team of oncology, liver, and interventional radiology specialists, along with skilled nurses and support staff. I’ve been through a major health battle before—spending months at the University of Utah Hospital and later undergoing follow-up care at Huntsman Cancer Center for necrotizing pancreatitis in 2021—so I know I’m in good hands.

I hope you’ll read the Why Victory Thru Faith page and join me on this journey. Whether you’re facing a similar diagnosis, supporting a loved one, or simply looking for inspiration, I welcome you to walk this path with me.

If you have stories, advice, or thoughts to share, I’d love to hear them. This isn’t just my journey—it’s one so many have traveled, and together, we can learn from each other.

No matter what lies ahead, I choose to move forward with faith, strength, and the belief that every day holds purpose.

Let’s take this step together!

Until Tomorrow,

Steve