Hope in Bay was inspired by my mother, Priscilla Lalisse-Jespersen, a two-time breast cancer survivor. Her strength throughout treatment showed me the importance of comfort, compassion, and community during some of life’s most difficult moments.
I sat down with her to discuss her experience, the support that mattered most, and what Hope in Bay means to her.

Rowan: Can you share a little about your experience with breast cancer?

Priscilla: My experience with breast cancer actually began during one of the biggest transitions of my life. I had lived in Paris for more than 15 years, and the day before I moved back to the United States, I had my first mammogram. I didn’t really expect anything to come of it. Ten days later, I was back in the United States, had started a new job, and was trying to settle my family into an entirely new life when I received the news that I had advanced Stage 3 breast cancer. Everything changed very quickly. Instead of simply adjusting to my native country, a new job, and a new chapter in our family’s life, I suddenly had to become a cancer patient. I ultimately received extensive treatment at Johns Hopkins. Years later, I had to face breast cancer again. So, when I say I’m a two-time breast cancer survivor, those words carry a tremendous amount of meaning for me.

Rowan: What were some of the hardest parts of treatment that people might not see from the outside?

Priscilla: People see the appointments and treatment, but there is so much they don’t see. They don’t necessarily see the fear you may feel while waiting for test results or walking into an appointment. They don’t see how exhausting it can be to constantly think about cancer or how strange it feels when your body suddenly becomes something doctors are examining, testing, and treating all the time. For me, there was another layer because my entire life had just changed. I had left Paris, returned to the United States, started a new job, and was taking care of a family. I didn’t have the luxury of putting the rest of my life on hold. You can look perfectly fine on the outside and still be carrying an enormous amount internally.

Rowan: Were there any small acts of kindness or comfort that meant a lot to you?

Priscilla: Yes, and that is one of the reasons I think what Hope in Bay is doing is so important. When you’re going through cancer, you remember the people who check on you. You remember the person who sends a message, brings you something, sits with you, or simply says, “I’m thinking about you.” My coworkers were phenomenal, and even that word feels like an understatement. Everyone pitched in to help me in whatever way they could, whether it was directly related to work, providing meals, or participating in cancer walks with me. Cancer can make your world feel very medical. There are doctors, appointments, scans, medications, and procedures. Something small and personal can bring a little humanity back into the experience. It doesn’t have to be expensive or elaborate. Sometimes, knowing that somebody took a few minutes out of their day to think about you is incredibly comforting.

Rowan: What items would have made treatment days feel a little easier or more comforting?

Priscilla: Definitely things that make you physically comfortable—soft socks, a blanket, or something warm because treatment areas can be cold. Lip balm and lotion are useful. Something to read or an activity book can also help pass the time. However, I would also include something personal. If I opened a bag and found a handwritten note from someone telling me they were thinking about me or encouraging me to keep going, I think that would have stayed with me long after I used the other things in the bag. That’s why I love the idea of Hope Bags combining practical items with encouragement.

Rowan: How did having family support affect you during that time?

Priscilla: Family was incredibly important. One of the interesting things about cancer is that you’re the patient, but the entire family experiences it. My children were part of my reason for continuing to move forward. I was still their mother. There were still meals, school, activities, and all the ordinary pieces of family life happening around cancer. In some ways, those ordinary things helped me. They reminded me that cancer was something happening in my life, but it wasn’t the entirety of my life. When you’re frightened or exhausted, knowing that you have people who love you gives you something very powerful to hold onto.

Rowan: What did it mean to you when I started Hope in Bay?

Priscilla: This one is emotional for me because you’re my daughter. You watched me go through something that no child really wants to watch her mother experience, and you could have simply put that experience behind you. Instead, you took it and asked, “How can I help another woman?” As your mother, I am incredibly proud of that. You have said that watching my cancer journey showed you what courage looks like, but I think starting Hope in Bay shows something about your character, too. You took a difficult experience in our family and turned it into empathy and service. I especially love that your focus is on the individual woman sitting in that chemotherapy bay. You’re not trying to solve cancer. You’re saying, “I can make this one woman’s day a little easier.” There is something very beautiful about that.

Rowan: Why do you think care bags and handwritten notes can matter to someone going through cancer?

Priscilla: Because cancer can be incredibly isolating. Even when you have people around you, ultimately, you’re the one receiving the treatment. You’re the one waiting for the scan result. You’re the one wondering what the next appointment is going to bring. A care bag says, “Somebody sees you.” I think the handwritten note may be one of the most important things in the entire bag because it is personal. Someone had to sit down, pick up a pen, and write something specifically to encourage another human being. That little connection can be very powerful on a difficult day.

Rowan: What would you want another woman beginning treatment to know?

Priscilla: First, I would tell her that it is okay to be afraid. I have said before that fear doesn’t have to stop you. Sometimes, we have very good reasons to be afraid. A cancer diagnosis is frightening. You don’t have to pretend to be fearless or strong every minute of every day. Ask questions. Advocate for yourself. Let people help you. Find doctors you trust. Take things one appointment at a time when looking too far ahead becomes overwhelming. Most importantly, don’t lose yourself in the diagnosis. You are still the person you were before somebody said the word “cancer.” You still have dreams, relationships, interests, and a future. Cancer becomes part of your story. It does not get to become your entire identity.

Rowan: What do you hope Hope in Bay gives to the people who receive its bags?

Priscilla: Hope, obviously, but also a sense of connection. I hope a woman opens one of those bags while she’s sitting in treatment and realizes that a young woman she has never met thought about her, selected things to make her more comfortable, and wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone. Maybe the socks make her warmer. Maybe the activity book distracts her for half an hour. Maybe something makes her laugh. And maybe she keeps that handwritten note. If Hope in Bay can make one difficult treatment day feel a little softer, a little warmer, or a little less lonely, then I think it has done something very meaningful.

Rowan: What would you say to people considering supporting or donating to Hope in Bay?

Priscilla: I would tell them that they aren’t simply donating toward a bag of things. They’re helping you put something tangible into the hands of a woman who may be having one of the hardest days of her life. They may never meet that woman. They may never know her name or hear her story, but she will know that somebody thought about her. As someone who has been on the other side of a breast cancer diagnosis, I can tell you that matters. I’m also particularly proud that Hope in Bay was created by a young person who saw suffering and decided not to look away. Supporting Hope in Bay means helping you continue turning that compassion into action—and helping more women feel seen, supported, and cared for while they’re going through treatment. A Reflection From Rowan

My mother’s story is the heart behind Hope in Bay. Listening to her answers reminded me why even the smallest acts of kindness can matter so deeply. Hope in Bay cannot take away the fear or difficulty of treatment, but it can help someone feel warmer, more comfortable, and less alone. Through every care kit and handwritten note, I hope we can remind women that they are seen, valued, and supported. My mom turned her experience into strength. Hope in Bay is my way of carrying that strength forward—one care kit at a time.