This blog is something that I’ve wanted to do since Jeff (my husband) started his chemotherapy. He put a moratorium on picture taking during the chemo (understandable….his selfie game would not have been strong during it), but I wanted to document the journey somehow. I wanted some record of the joys, the struggles, the tears and the laughter (seriously, we are ALWAYS laughing about something). At the time, I was blogging on my personal blog and there are several posts dedicated to Jeff’s journey with cancer and how I was coping.

When Jeff was done with his chemotherapy, however, we both just wanted to get back to “normal” life and the idea of blogging about the whole cancer thing seemed intimidating and I was done being scared for the time being. The thing is, while there is never a “normal,” there is a comfortable routine that keeps you going day in and day out and life post-cancer is a weird experience. You realize that the entire world was moving forward around you while you were focused only on one thing: staying alive. Then you’re done with chemo or a surgery or whatever, and you’re expected to just kind of, move forward. Cancer and its aftermath are different for everyone and I am not ignorant enough to think that our experience will echo everyone around the world battling cancer. But, I do think in general getting back to a “normal” is a really difficult thing to do. Your entire life is irrevocably changed by this disease and picking up and living a “normal” existence is a really bizarre and foreign concept. One day, you’re hooked up to a machine that simultaneously robs you of and gives you life and the next day, you’re in the car on the way to work. Just like that.

For me, moving on to “normal” was not only daunting, it was frustrating. While Jeff was doing his chemotherapy, my role was to take care of him. To take care of Malcolm. Taking care of others meant I didn’t have to acknowledge any of my feelings or insecurities or worries, I just ate those away. But when Jeff returned to work, my role shifted. I no longer had someone to take care of all day every day and while some would probably be ecstatic to have this freedom and would use the opportunity to take care of themselves I was petrified. I wasn’t ready to take care of myself. I wanted to remain in my own little world where food and the resulting fat shielded me from anything bad happening. It became a sort of cushion, literally and figuratively and I just wanted to remain numb to everything and anything that might cause me pain.

But, I knew that this plan was not healthy, in any way, for me as a long-term plan. I needed to shed the weight cancer had cast, both physically and mentally. I am a writer, and it is through the act of writing that I begin the healing process. Most days, I still cannot believe I even have this story to tell; it is completely surreal knowing my husband literally battled against cancer for his life, but this experience has made me a stronger, more thoughtful person. I’ve learned so, so much from my experience with cancer and I am a far more grateful person today. Tomorrow definitely isn’t promised, and that’s a really hard lesson to learn before you hit 30. And it was also a very lonely lesson while it was being learned. It was terrifying and isolating and…fattening. So, as my husband is nearing two years of being cancer-free and I’m finally starting to shed some of those pounds, I decided it was time to speak up. To start healing myself and maybe give someone else some hope.

If I can make just one person out there feel less lonely, less isolated and maybe even a bit hopeful, then this blog will have done exactly what I hoped. If you’re currently battling cancer or love someone who is, if you did five years ago or if you are trying to understand what a friend may be going through, I’m so glad you’ve found me. Cancer made me fat. I will make myself healthy and happy once more. I hope you’ll come on this journey with me.

Till next time,

Ashley