One thing I’ve learned thus far, with cancer treatment, is how rewarding it can be to just focus on one small thing that you can accomplish.

For example, I nursed this tiny aloe plant — which my kiddo picked up in after-school care, a few months ago — back to health. When I first saw it, it was totally brown, and basically appeared to be dead. I moved it into a new pot with different soil, and I have been periodically watering it (taking care not to over-water).

Now, I’m pleased to see that all the brown has been replaced by green, and a new leaf is appearing.

Admittedly, this is a little thing. But for me, it means a lot. I take a few moments with this plant every day, and I just appreciate it. I look at it as a symbol of my own cancer treatment journey. This would be one small piece of advice I can offer to others starting out on treatment for cancer, or other big scary diseases: find a little thing to feel good about.

Quick notes on my current status:

As I was en route to daily radiation appointments over the past month, I passed by my local food bank every day. And I noticed lines of people waiting there … really, really long lines. I’ve donated to this food bank before, typically at the end of the year, and so I’m on their mailing list. They recently shared the following:

March, April, and May were the busiest months in the 41-year history of the University District Food Bank and due to this we’re facing a $200,000 budget shortfall.

I’m assuming they (like all other non-profits) receive fewer donations outside of the holiday season, so I just sent them another donation.

I encourage everyone reading this to please consider donating (either your dollars or your time) to your local food bank. Alternatively, another worthwhile charity to consider is Feeding America.

[editor’s note: I just realized I didn’t give this post a title, before. Fixed this, the day after posting.]

I was honored to virtually meet Brianna Mercker and Natalie Phelps today. They have both experienced their own battles with colorectal cancer, and are committed to raising awareness via their leadership and extensive volunteer involvement with the Seattle Walk to End Colon Cancer.

This was my first time speaking with others who are acquainted with my specific cancer diagnosis; it was very helpful and inspiring. I’ve also been appreciating recent connections with my friends who have other experiences with cancer — my colleague Matt (as a caregiver), and my friend of 25 years, Kari (she went through a different form of cancer, eight years ago).

I’m returning to an old blog I had set up over a decade ago, to share observations about the stage 3 rectal cancer diagnosis that I received on Apr 2, 2024.

Currently I am about halfway through daily (M-F) chemoradiation treatment at Fred Hutch Cancer Center in Seattle. Fortunately I don’t live far from there — the drive is around 12-15 minutes — so I am able to accommodate these daily afternoon visits in my work schedule.

As more folks learn about this — my colleagues, extended family members, and friends I have made throughout many chapters in my life — I feel the need to provide more of a regular cadence of updates. I have been attempting this through a google doc, but I’m going to switch to this medium and see how it goes.