Ever since my sister recovered, she has been worried about helping others. “What if they didn’t have family?” What if no one was there to see their last chemo round?” “Did anyone even care that it was over?”

After a grueling 20 months of a twisted combination of chemotherapy, radiation, a hysterectomy and a “gentle” re-application of nipple through tattoo, my sister went through it all. After radiation, she rang the bell, signifying that her treatments were over and felt complete closure. Her husband, Bob, rewarded her with a ring to signify the end of that chapter. Yet after chemotherapy, it was silent. There were no next steps. There was no gift. There was no closure to let her know that it was all over. In fact, as the last patient of the day to get chemotherapy, the halls were dark and empty and she could hear the sound of the facility closing with no salutation or congratulations to leave her with.

After five months of weekly treatments, didn’t she deserve more?

Our idea is to give closure to those who receive chemotherapy regardless of the cancer type. Just as a boss gives recognition to their employee after hard work or a job well done, our intention is to briefly acknowledge and congratulate the patient on completing such a huge part of their journey.

More to come but we are excited about the possibilities of helping. Helping others going through cancer. Helping family members of others going through cancer. But mostly, providing closure.






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