I’m Gonna Do This’
Inspired by her husband’s medical care and the nursing pursuit of her daughter, Annique London makes a healthy choice of her own.
It’s a crisp and breezy late fall morning, just a week or so out from Thanksgiving. It’s the kind of morning where the leaves start the day in one yard and rest for the night three homes away. As the wind whips through this quaint neighborhood just outside the city of Minneapolis, a pair of squirrels dart past a small patio, a patio where Annique London spent many summer nights watching her children play.
But this isn’t a typical front yard. A zip line flows from a beautiful maple tree on Annique’s property to another tree in a neighbor’s yard to the left. Attached are two swings, a climbing rope and ladder, and a couple of gymnastics rings.
“That’s our COVID playground,” Annique says.
During the pandemic of 2020, she recalls, her three daughters were home the entire school year and completed assignments virtually. Her friends next door also had small children and asked Annique if the kids — and their yards — could connect through this makeshift play area.
“It was perfect for our girls and their children. They could play together but at a social distance. Whatever kids wanted to come over and play with ours, they were always welcome.”
She turned her attention to the ground beneath the two swings.
“You see how it’s bare? I can’t grow grass out there, but I don’t care,” Annique explains. “I would rather have kids in my yard than grow green grass. I loved to sit on this patio and watch them.”
Yet no matter how many squeals of delight filtered through the neighborhood — and no matter how many children gathered in her front yard — she knew there was something missing. Dané was missing. And even though Annique missed her husband deeply, she sensed there was another hole in her life.
It was time to fill it.
‘THE WORST PART’
Annique remembers the November evening in 2016 vividly. She and Dané had a great time hosting a kindergarten fund-raising party at their home. When the last of their friends had left, Dané had gone upstairs to freshen up, but Annique grew concerned when he didn’t return to the living area. When she went to check on him, he was lying in bed and holding his chest.
Dané’s father had issues with his heart, so the decision was easy for Annique: Let’s get to the emergency room — NOW!
“I drove about 80 miles an hour, through the city. I rushed through the door and said, ‘I think my husband is having a heart attack!’ ”
After what seemed like hours of testing, the Londons learned Dané did not have a heart attack — it was potentially much worse. Doctors had discovered a tumor near his heart. They assumed it was benign, but wanted to remove it as quickly as possible.
“We went from a party to the ER to major surgery in just a couple of days.”
The tumor was sent off to be tested, and it would be about a week before they would know the results.
“Sometimes,” Annique reflects, “finding out isn’t the worst part. Waiting is the worst part.”
Annique and Dané were in the kitchen when the phone rang, and their darkest fears were realized — the tumor was malignant. Dané was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive blood cancer called acute lymphoblastic leukemia. He was given a 60 percent chance to live.
“I remember our first appointment with the oncologist. Sitting in that room, I had never been more sick to my stomach. The words he would say would determine our future. … I was terrified.”
The intensity of the treatment would rival the aggression of the illness. In December of 2016, Dané embarked on a six-month regimen fueled by in-patient hospital stays, rounds upon rounds of chemotherapy, and multiple drugs flowing through a port in his chest. After 180 days, the scans game back negative. The cancer was gone. Dané was excited to return to his job as a senior director of finance at Pentair/nVent in Minneapolis. The Londons were even more excited to begin living life again, which meant working full time, volunteering in the community, and supporting the activities of their three daughters.
That was August of 2017. But just a few months later, Dané felt a bump on his chest. There would be more testing. More waiting.
One of Annique’s hobbies is photography, and the two were browsing in a camera shop when Dané’s cell phone rang. “I’m sorry,” his doctor said. “The cancer has returned.” And this time, it had entered Dané’s brain and bones.
The Londons sought the advice of a new oncologist and began another round of chemotherapy. “It just got worse and worse, so we tried a ‘Hail Mary’ with an experimental drug,” Annique reveals. “Dané was willing to go through anything to survive.”
On Thursday, May 17, 2018, just a day after Annique’s birthday, Dané underwent a blood transfusion. Annique was at Armatage Elementary School watching Talia, then a first-grader, perform in a program. Her cell phone buzzed. It was a nurse from the hospital.
“Your husband’s kidneys are failing. There’s nothing else we can do. You might want to get over here.”
The Londons were given two choices — Dané could spend his final days in a hospital bed, or he could spend them with his family. As always, he chose his four girls. “He wanted to die at home,” Annique says quietly.
Dané went upstairs to the bedroom on Friday evening and never came back down. He passed away the following Monday morning, May 21, 2018. He was just 46.
“We all were able to say goodbye. I guess you could say he had a peaceful death but …”
That may have been the case as Dané drew his final breath, yet Annique was all too aware of the intense pain, debilitating nausea and extreme fatigue leading up to it.
“It was a very cruel ending.”
A MOMENT OF CLARITY
“Now what?”
That question continued to play on loop in Annique’s mind. First thing in the morning, when picking up the kids, or while tossing and turning in bed. Initially, the concerns were all family related. There were bills to pay, a home to manage, three young daughters to raise, adjusting to life without Dané.
“I was overwhelmed,” she confesses. “I gained and lost weight, time and time again. I had some of my own health problems develop. How did I manage it all? Sometimes, not very well. But I leaned a lot on my friends.”
As time passed, the concerns at home waned. Yet the nagging question kept resurfacing: “Now what?”
How does a single mom — a mom who had just turned 50, by the way — continue to write her life story? Annique had placed a vibrant marketing career on hold while caring for Dané, and after his death she resumed operating her own agency. But not long afterward she grew tired of the stress and the long hours it took to run the business. She chose to shut down the operation in the fall of 2022 and began to search for a marketing job with another company.
Her resumé was ignored. Phone calls weren’t returned. Months of waiting felt like time was wasting.
“I had all the right connections in the industry and I couldn’t even get an interview,” she laments. I said, ‘Screw this — I’m out.’ ”
So on April 9, 2023, Annique chose to go all in. It was Easter Sunday, after all. A day many associate with new life. And hers was about to begin.
“Never, in a million years, did I think I would go back to school. But I never imagined my husband dying in his forties. The whole life template gets destroyed.”
You know how moments of clarity arise when you least expect it? Maybe it’s in the shower. Maybe it’s on a long walk in the woods. For Annique London, it came during that Easter weekend away with her girls.
They were vacationing in their favorite place, the Sea Villas in Lutsen, Minnesota. Annique was up early, enjoying a couple of coffee and marveling at the beauty of Lake Superior. For a few months prior, she had been researching online education options and was leaning toward Portage Learning because of its challenging curriculum, flexibility, and affordability. As the lake glistened in the morning sun, Annique made her move.
“THAT was the moment,” she remembers. “I went on to the Portage Learning website, clicked the Chemistry tab, and signed up for my first course. I was like, ‘I’m gonna do this. I’m gonna be a nurse.’ ”
Annique’s decision was influenced by a pair of examples that hit close to home. First, she was inspired by the empathy and care of Dané’s medical team in the oncology unit. And then, in the fall of 2022, her oldest daughter, Anya, chose to study nursing at Marquette University. As Annique and Anya perused mounds of school literature and visited different campuses, Annique began to think it might be a career path for her as well.
“I started to realize, maybe I can do this, too. But I was old. I had to have eight prerequisites to get into a nursing program. I was like, ‘How will I ever do this?’ ”
She would make peace with the answer quickly: Focus on one hour, one study session, and one course at a time. Though she admits there were moments when she wanted to give up, she pushed through the work. Every. Single. Day. “From April of 2023 through the summer of 2024, I studied non-stop.”
On August 7, 2024, she shared this post on Facebook:
“•Eight classes over one year and three months: Chemistry, Microbiology, Anatomy & Physiology I & II, Nutrition, Lifespan Developmental Psychology, Abnormal Psychology, and Pathophysiology.
•34 labs, 34 lab exams, 62 quizzes, 62 unit exams, six case studies, three papers and eight final exams.
•Thousands and thousands of hours of studying.
•I studied in libraries, coffee shops, cafés, hotel rooms, community centers, at my desk, in the car, on my bike, in parking lots, at softball games, at volleyball games.
•Parenting, household managing, car managing, kids studying in middle school, high school, and college, tutors and therapists, doctors and dentist appointments, back-to-school shopping, forms, payments, meetings, gardening and outsourcing.
“Prerequisites in my rearview mirror. I. DID. IT.”
And Crista Bush was not surprised.
“Annique is a very hard and dedicated worker. I was so honored to have her as a student. She would email me with very thoughtful questions about the material. I could tell she really wanted to learn and not just breeze through the classes.”
Crista is a Biology professor with Portage Learning, and taught both of the Anatomy & Physiology courses Annique had enrolled in.
“A&P has a TON of information to learn — more than most college-level classes,” Crista acknowledges. “I was so excited to see Annique work so hard through both A&P I and II and do so well.”
With the eight prerequisites behind her, Annique was ready to embark on the second leg of the nursing journey. Because she had earned a bachelor’s degree from the University of Wisconsin-La Crosse years earlier, Annique was qualified to enter the master’s degree program at the University of Minnesota.
But there was just one issue. She hadn’t experienced life on a college campus since the early 1990s.
“The whole world had changed since I went to school. I don’t know anyone my age. I’m older than some of my classmates’ parents.”
Annique recalls a humorous exchange when she went to buy a campus parking pass.
“The woman asked me, ‘For faculty or staff?’ I said, ‘Neither — I’m a student.’ She looked at me like I had three heads.”
Initially, Annique would visit the student union to study between classes. She doesn’t anymore.
“Sometimes, people would just stare at me, so I’ve stopped going there. I just don’t fit in there, and that’s OK. I’m not in that phase of life.”
‘FULL-CIRCLE MOMENT’
The Rustica Bakery & Café is one of the busiest coffee houses in the Minneapolis area. It’s not quite “Cheers,” but it is a place where everyone knows Annique’s name — and, of course, her favorite morning jolt of caffeine.
“Flat white, extra hot,” says Nathan Brown, a barista at Rustica for a little more than a year. “She comes in every morning. Everyone on the staff knows her.”
The shop is just yards from the hospital where Dané underwent his cancer treatments. Rustica’s structure features plenty of windows, and one morning while Annique was studying, she glanced across the street and spotted something that sent a wave of emotion flowing through her body.
“I could actually see the room where he was admitted. You know, it was just ‘A Moment.’”
At this particular moment, it’s a gorgeous Friday afternoon in Minneapolis. Unseasonably warm, with the sun beaming through the parking garage to Annique’s right. Still wearing her scrubs from a day of clinical activities, Annique points to the eighth floor of M Health Fairview Southdale Hospital, a place where she spent many early mornings and late nights holding Dané’s hand as he struggled through exhausting, and often painful, treatments.
“It’s kind of special to me to see that (window) and just kind of remember. We’re taking something really bad and making the best we can out of it. Hopefully, I can share my experience, my perspective, the empathy I have, to help people going through very, very hard times.”
Shereen Parsakalleh is Annique’s clinical instructor at the University of Minnesota. She described her student as intentional, hungry and inspiring — especially as she watches Annique in the hospital setting.
“For those who know her backstory, it’s very evident by the way she cares and how she interacts with her patients,” Shereen points out. “Her bedside manner is terrific, and she develops rapport with her patients quickly. Annique is very caring and respectful.”
Annique believes her age and life experience give her an advantage — both in the classroom and in the hospital.
“When I don’t understand something, I ask the question. I don’t have anything to prove. I’m very comfortable with not knowing something. When I ask a question, I now understand it’s a sign of strength. I’m kind of fearless.”
Annique’s hands-on learning takes place on the sixth floor of the hospital. The oncology unit is two floors above. One day she went up and literally ran into a nurse manager named Brian. He was the nurse who called Annique and told her Dané didn’t have much longer to live.
“I had not see him since that day,” Annique reflects. “I said, ‘Guess what, I’m in nursing school now.’ He said, ‘Oh, my gosh!’ We had this humongous hug. It was a real full-circle moment.”
Annique pauses.
“I spent a lot of time at the hospital as a visitor. Now I have a badge. It’s surreal.”
INSPIRING OTHERS
Every time Annique gestures, you can’t help but notice it. If the hospital badge is a constant reminder of her career change, the tattoo on her right wrist reminds her why she made the switch. In purple ink are three hearts and a star with the words, “Love always, Dané.”
“That’s how he would sign the cards he gave me. I kept all of them, and I found the one where I liked his writing the best.”
Annique says she got the tattoo about a year ago to honor her late husband — the star — and their three daughters, represented by the hearts:
•Anya, 20, is a junior studying nursing at Marquette University
•Sasha, 18, is a freshman at DePaul University and studying public relations
•And Talia, 13, is an eighth-grader at Annunciation Catholic School near their home
On this particular Saturday morning, Talia emerges in the kitchen with her two best friends since preschool — Molly and Kayla — who had slept over the night before. All three are wearing sweatshirts and shorts. And all three are sporting braces on their teeth and drowsiness in their eyes. As she moves toward a loaf of banana bread sitting on the counter, Talia is careful not to step on Coco, the family’s Shih Tzu Bichon Frise mix, commonly known as a “Shichon.” Coco joined the family seven years ago while Dané was in the middle of his cancer fight.
“It’s a designer dog,” Annique says while preparing to scramble some eggs on the stove. “She usually follows me around everywhere, but she loves that chair.”
Annique points toward a picture window and calls it Coco’s “spot.” As if on cue, Coco jumps up on the chair and looks out at neighbors walking their own dogs, a couple of runners breathing heavily, and a mom pushing a baby stroller.
Talia secures a leash on Coco and opens the front door for a walk. But first she’s asked about her mom’s return to school.
“I’m really proud of her. Just, like, the determination she has to do everything. She has two kids in college and me at home — and she’s still managing to live out her dream.”
Does Talia help her mom with coursework?
“Nah,” she responds, laughing. “But I do quiz her all the time.”
Shereen explains how intense the master’s curriculum can be.
“Not to discount any other discipline, but I would say nursing is one of the heaviest programs that exist from a course workload standpoint, plus the demands of being onsite.”
Annique said a bold statement from a friend prepared her well for the challenge of the 16-month accelerated program — especially starting it at age 54.
“She told me, ‘You can be 56 and be a nurse. Or you can be 56 and NOT be a nurse. What do you want to do?”
Annique now knows exactly WHAT she wants to do, but she’s not yet sure how she wants to serve patients. She’s considering everything from emergency medicine to geriatrics — perhaps even a nursing residence program.
“All I know is that I’ll be a nurse in 2026. I’ll figure out the rest later.”
Though thousands of miles apart, both Shereen and Crista respond the same way when asked what kind of care Annique will provide.
“She’s going to be an excellent nurse,” Shereen says. “She’s been in the role of support and care-giver for her husband, and now she’s on the other side. It will give her a very unique, all-inclusive role as an advocate for her patients. She’s entering a tough, but very rewarding, career.”
Crista was touched by Annique’s story from the very beginning.
“Annique and I connected right away. She shared with me when she registered that her husband had passed away from cancer. My heart broke for her. I shared with her that my father had just passed away from cancer the year before, and she was so compassionate and encouraging in her responses back to me, which was such an unexpected blessing. I think we immediately had a connection knowing the pain of loss.”
Crista still keeps a photo of Annique with her daughters on the desktop of her computer. “I like to look at it to remind me of why I do what I do. I'm sure Annique is going to make an excellent nurse, and I know she will be caring, thoughtful, and compassionate. I hope to have her as my nurse someday.”
That’s someday. For now, all Annique can think about is toughing through her grueling schedule. She’s on campus by 7am each day, and makes sure all her work is completed by 5pm so she can devote her evenings to Talia, a talented athlete who competes in softball and volleyball.
Annique understands the long days and taxing coursework will last for just a short time longer. But she believes the impact she’ll have in her new profession can span generations.
“I want to be the kind of nurse who looks people in the eye and listens. Sometimes, I worry about caring too much. I really want to be present, just seeing them in a really hard time of life, giving them a hug and a shoulder to cry on.”
She glanced down at her tattoo.
“One person at a time. That’s it. Just focusing on one person at a time. I may not be able to change the world, but I can change one person’s life. Maybe I’ll be the first person to give them one-to-one care. Part of this journey is inspiring others to do it, too. I can multiply it by others seeing themselves in me.”
No doubt they’ll like what they see. And so will their future patients.
Watch Annique share her personal journey of resilience, perseverance, and the power of reinvention, proving that it's never too late to follow your passion and change the course of your life.
