I See It Everywhere…

Before April 11th, I knew cancer existed. I’ve watched it touch people I love. I’ve stood beside others as they fought it. Dashboard Confessional said it best, with a few edits to make it more relevant to my situation…. “your hair cancer is everywhere” .

Since Cassidy’s diagnosis, the word cancer feels like it’s stitched into everything. TV commercials that I used to tune out suddenly hit differently. Ads for medications. Hospital foundations. “Survivor stories.” Headlines I never would have clicked on before now pull me in with a gravity I can't explain. News stories, podcasts, passing conversations. It’s like once it entered our lives, it spread into the background noise of the world around me—except now it’s not background anymore. It’s loud. Constant. Unavoidable.

Was it always like this? Was I oblivious before? I wonder that a lot. Was the world always this saturated with reminders and I just didn’t notice? Was I too comfortable? Too lucky?

I’ll be watching TV, and there it is—cancer in a commercial for a new medication. I’ll scroll social media and see a “10-year survivor” post. I’ll try to read the news and stumble into another story about someone’s diagnosis, prognosis, fight. Sometimes I feel like the word is chasing me down. I didn’t go looking for it, but it finds me anyway. And every time, it lands differently now. Heavier. Closer. Personal.

This week, cancer wasn’t just a word in the world—it was right in front of us, again. Cassidy had his 2nd round of chemo on Tuesday. His bloodwork wasn’t ideal that morning, and we held our breath wondering if they’d delay treatment. Thankfully, after more tests and a thoughtful conversation with his nurse practitioner, Sam, he was cleared to move forward. But it hit harder this time. The fatigue settled in quickly, and the nausea lingered in a way it hadn’t before. It’s Friday now, and he’s starting to feel a bit better—but it’s clear round two is different than round one. The climb is getting steeper.

This is part of the shift no one prepares you for. Cancer doesn’t just show up in your life and stay neatly in the “appointments and medication” section. It invades. It shows up in your algorithms, your conversations, your silence. And once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

I used to think the hardest part would be the big moments—surgeries, scans, results. And those are hard. But so is this quiet weight of awareness. The constant noticing. The way the world suddenly looks different now that I know what it’s like to walk through life waiting for side effects, counting down until the next infusion, measuring time in weeks of treatment.

I don’t have a tidy ending for this one. No deep lesson or revelation. Just honesty…cancer is everywhere now and I’m trying to learn how to live with that. This week’s blog post tile photo is from 2020 when Cassidy & I went to see Dashboard Confessional in Dallas and got to meet the lead singer, Chris! :)

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110% Alive

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Round 2, in the books!