Day 7 — CAR-T Cell Therapy for MS

Beauty Everywhere

Choosing Rest — and Making It Count

Today, my body told me it needed to rest. After yesterday’s fever hiccup, I stayed in bed and let myself slow down — not because I had to, but because I’ve learned that rest is recovery. I didn’t walk the halls or push my limits. Instead, I gave my body the chance to do what it’s here to do: heal.

From my bed, I could still see the skyline — the Empire State Building glowing at night, the colors shifting through the day — and I realized that beauty doesn’t disappear when you’re still. You just notice it more deeply.

Creating Beauty in My Space

Even though I couldn’t be up doing much, I still did. I colored from my MS Can’t Stop Me book, painted small pumpkins, and started hanging them on my wall. Slowly, my hospital room turned into my own art gallery — one filled with color, personality, and life.

I’m not bored, not for a second. You make a choice to be bored, and I choose not to be. There’s always something to create, something to appreciate, or someone to share a smile with. It’s a mindset shift that changes everything.

Perspective from the Hallway

Being in a private room gives me a lot of time to reflect — and to watch. I see patients walking past with IV poles, some fighting far tougher battles than mine. That sight humbles me. It reminds me how lucky I am to have this space, this chance, and this team working to give me something that could one day change everything for people with MS.

This isn’t just treatment. It’s a test of strength, gratitude, and perspective.

Family Moments That Keep Me Grounded

Tonight, I got photos of Sean out at a haunted house with friends — pizza, laughter, and no worries in sight. That’s what I wanted for him. He was scared when I first came in, but he’s doing great now, and seeing him happy means the world. Life goes on for him, and that’s how it should be.

My husband and our friends made that happen, and I’m endlessly grateful for the love holding things together back home. It keeps me focused on healing, knowing that everything I’m doing here is helping build a better future for all of us.

Halftime Reflections

As I write this, it’s halftime of the Knicks game. I’m sitting up, IV still in, lights still on, watching the city glow outside my window. It’s a simple thing — but it’s joy.

And that’s what I want people to know: even here, hooked up to machines and counting blood draws at midnight, you can still find beauty, laughter, and purpose.

Why I’m Sharing This

I’m sharing these days because one day, someone else with MS will be here — in this same unit, maybe even this same room — wondering what to expect. I want them to know it’s possible to find light, creativity, and hope in the middle of treatment.

This isn’t the end of anything. It’s the start of something extraordinary — for me, and for everyone who’ll come after.