When Cristy was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer in March 2024, her husband Richard stepped into a role he never expected, a full-time caregiver.

What followed was a year of flights from Arkansas to Chicago. Scans. Surgeries. Hope. Delays. More hope. There is no National Cancer Institute affiliate in Arkansas. Their first stop was MD Anderson in Houston. The message there felt final: chemotherapy for the rest of her life. They refused to accept that as the only option.

A new oncologist back home opened the door to something extraordinary: a possible liver transplant at Northwestern in Chicago. They traveled again. And again. And again.

In January, Cristy’s primary tumor was removed.
In July, their daughter Ashley was tested — and she was a match.
A living donor. Her own stepdaughter.

Cristy and Richard prepared for the transplant, but unfortunately the scans showed the cancer had spread and the transplant had to be cancelled. Through it all, Richard has done what caregivers do: quietly carry everything.

Cristy can no longer drive because of neuropathy. Richard drives her more than an hour to chemotherapy every two weeks. He cooks. Cleans. Grocery shops. Takes their 13-year-old daughter to school. Schedules every flight. Books every hotel. And takes time off work. Again and again.

“The most unexpected part is how much I’ve had to take off from work.”

But when asked what has been most meaningful, his answer wasn’t about travel or medicine.

“The most meaningful part has been our closer walk with God.”

Caregiving is full of invisible grief.

“The hardest part has been watching my wife lose her independence.”

Through our Keeping Caregivers Close grant, Cocktails & Caregivers helped ease the financial burden of flights and hotel stays so this family could focus on what mattered most — being together. The transplant may be postponed. The road may be longer than they hoped. But their doctor said something that still echoes: “I am not giving up on you.”

Neither are we.