Good news, tired bones, and pug snuggles
Chemo fatigue is real, but so is the good news: my cancer markers are dropping fast! This week I’m writing about the exhaustion, the relief of seeing real progress, and the small joys that keep me going—like baseball games, old friends, and lots of extra pug snuggles. 💙⚾🐶
The Night Before…
The night before chemo always feels heavier. There’s a quiet tension, a shared knowing. This week, I’m writing about that—and the unexpected tears I shed watching Cassidy mow the yard for the first time since surgery. A small, proud moment that meant everything. 💙
Uninvited Guests: When Chemo Side Effects Crash the Party
Quarter of the way through chemo, and the real guests have arrived—nausea, fatigue, cold neuropathy, and a taste I can only describe as “metal-flavored betrayal.” This week, things got tougher, but I’m still showing up, still pushing through, and still chewing gum like it’s my lifeline. Read about the turning point, the weird symptoms, and how I’m managing the chaos one glove and heating pad at a time.
Loving Him is Loving Me
This weekend was full of joy, friendship, and some much-needed normalcy. My best friend flew in, we danced at TaylorFest, cheered at the Rockies Pride game, and even crossed Coldplay off my bucket list. But underneath it all? The lingering weight of loving someone with cancer. New blog post is up—this one’s about what it means when your people show up for both of you. 💙✨
110% Alive
This week, I cried tears of joy—on a pickleball court. After surgery and chemo, I played my first game with a colostomy belt strapped on and zero expectations. What happened next? I felt alive for the first time in weeks.
I See It Everywhere…
It feels like the word cancer is following me. In commercials, in headlines, in everyday life—now that it’s part of our world, I see it everywhere. This week’s blog is about that shift, and how round 2 of chemo brought new challenges. 💙
Round 2, in the books!
As he sits through his second treatment, Cassidy reflects on the quiet heroes—patients, scientists, and caregivers—who’ve made his journey possible. It's raw, hopeful, and a powerful reminder of how far we've come.
Our First Normal(?) Week
What does a “normal” week look like after a stage 4 cancer diagnosis? This week, we had minimal appointments, almost no side effects—and a few moments where I almost forgot. But even in the quiet, the weight of it all lingers. In this post, I share what it’s like to hold onto peace while bracing for what’s next. Spoiler: it’s complicated 💙
Round One, Done!
My first round of chemo is officially in the books—and while the nerves were real, so were the moments of unexpected comfort, surreal Cold War flashbacks, and gratitude in the unlikeliest places. From the nerve-wracking wait for bloodwork results to the beeping IV machines and my partner Leah turning into a part-time nurse, this experience is already proving to be more than just a medical journey.
Want to know what it’s really like walking into that first infusion? Come take a look behind the curtain (literally and emotionally).
The Caregiver’s Chair
Stepping into the caregiver role I never wanted but now know intimately. A glimpse into our first chemo week, small acts of love, and the fight to hold onto hope…
How did we get here? (part 2)
This post isn’t just about a diagnosis. It’s about the quiet strength it takes to move through recovery one step at a time, the gut-punch of learning life-altering news from a screen, and the power of love and support in the darkest hours. This is what it looked like, from the inside.
Leah’s First Post
I don’t really know how to start this, except to say that life doesn’t give you a warning before it falls apart.
How Did We Get Here?
So, what the hell happened? How did I go from being a healthy 34 year old to having stage 4 colon cancer in a matter of weeks? Well, obviously it had been developing longer than that, but let’s rewind the clock….