03/12/2026
It’s been a whirlwind for our family since Nolan’s diagnosis, and as his mom, watching him fight for his life is heart wrenching.
To help you all get a sense of what he’s facing and how we’re hanging in there, I figured it’d be good to share some details on his chemo regimen. It’s pretty intense, but knowing the plan gives us a roadmap, and we’re walking it step by step with a lot of hope and grit.
Nolan’s on the standard U.S. VDC/IE protocol, a focused multi-drug setup that works to shrink the tumor, keep it from spreading, and pave the way for surgery or radiation. It really improves chances, with survival rates around 70-80% for localized cases like his.
It switches between two sets of drugs to attack the cancer in different ways while giving his body some breathing room: VDC mixes vincristine (which messes with cell structures), doxorubicin (to wreck the cancer’s DNA), and cyclophosphamide (to block cell splitting), while IE brings in ifosfamide (for a wider punch, usually with mesna to shield the bladder) and etoposide (to jam up replication). All this gets delivered through IV, going after cells all over the body. Each cycle ramps up the intensity with back-to-back days of heavy infusions—often meaning hospital stays for careful watching, extra fluids to clear out toxins, and shots like Neulasta to pump up white blood cells and fight off infections. Those multi-drug stretches can last 3-5 days in a row, hitting hard with little break before the next one rolls in, though there are some downtime spots built in for recovery.
The whole thing runs about 14-17 cycles over 6-9 months, kicking off with an induction phase (around 8-12 weeks) to knock down the tumor, then moving to consolidation to wipe out what’s left. Cycles come every 2-3 weeks, and sometimes they’re tightened up for stronger results, but stuff like Nolan’s anemia from low blood counts can push things back a bit. It’s tough going, with side effects like wipeout fatigue that calls for transfusions, nausea we handle with meds, hair loss, sore mouths, and those “chemo hands” where nerves or skin react (think redness or tingling, especially from vincristine or doxorubicin).
As a young adult, he tends to rebound physically a little faster, but the emotional side—like feeling anxious, cut off from normal life, or frustrated by all the hospital time—adds its own layers. We keep an eye on longer-term stuff too, like potential heart or fertility impacts. It’s all tailored based on scans and blood tests, with those compressed schedules bumping outcomes by 10-15%, and options like clinical trials if we need them.
Nolan’s strength blows me away every single day—he’s powering through these rough cycles and still finding ways to enjoy the brighter spots. Huge thanks to our team at Medical City Children’s for all their guidance and resources.
Here is a picture of Nolan and his oldest brother Ryan. My heart. 💛
