;cancernotes

Cancer Notes

A real-time log of scans, side effects, laughter, and lessons I never asked to learn.

A clean, modern bathroom counter scene rendered in photographic realism, centered on a transparent weekly pill organizer filled with colorful tablets and capsules, each compartment labeled clearly for the days of the week. Next to it sits a folded, cheerful striped hand towel in shades of teal, coral, and white, and a small ceramic dish holding a few bright peppermint candies. The counter is a light gray quartz with subtle speckling, and a faint reflection of the items is visible. Warm, indirect overhead lighting and a hint of natural light from an unseen window create soft highlights and minimal shadows. Captured from a slightly elevated angle with sharp focus throughout, the composition feels organized, supportive, and quietly empowering, transforming a clinical routine into a moment of care and intention.
A close-up, photographic image of a sturdy navy-blue ribbon arranged in the shape of a subtle, imperfect heart on a smooth white linen bedsheet. The fabric has a gentle texture, with tiny folds catching the light. Next to the ribbon lies a small, spiral-bound notepad with the words “today’s victories” handwritten at the top of the first page, and a simple blue ballpoint pen resting beside it. Soft, diffused morning light pours in from the left, creating a calm, airy feel and delicate shadows. The composition follows the rule of thirds, with the ribbon-heart slightly off-center, and the background fading into a gentle blur. The atmosphere feels quietly optimistic, reflective, and intimate, suggesting small moments of hope in a cancer journey.

The Longer Version Of Everything

This is where I untangle the messy, surprising story of my colon cancer journey—from the first twinge in my gut in Dallas to chemo chairs, scan days, and small victories that slowly stitched my life back together.

Read on
A small, neatly arranged bedside table in a quiet hospital room, captured in photographic realism. The focus is on a worn navy-blue journal open to a half-filled page, a smooth fountain pen resting diagonally across the paper. Beside it sits a clear plastic water pitcher with tiny condensation beads, and a single bright yellow gerbera daisy in a slim glass vase, adding a pop of color. Soft afternoon light filters through partially closed blinds, casting gentle stripes of light and shadow across the scene. The background shows a softly blurred heart monitor and folded blanket, hinting at the medical setting without dominating the frame. Shot at eye level with shallow depth of field, the mood is contemplative, hopeful, and quietly resilient.

Images from chemo bays, kitchen-table victories, and quiet walks around White Rock Lake help fill in the gaps between posts—reminding me that this story is lived in moments, not just in medical charts.

A clean, modern bathroom counter scene rendered in photographic realism, centered on a transparent weekly pill organizer filled with colorful tablets and capsules, each compartment labeled clearly for the days of the week. Next to it sits a folded, cheerful striped hand towel in shades of teal, coral, and white, and a small ceramic dish holding a few bright peppermint candies. The counter is a light gray quartz with subtle speckling, and a faint reflection of the items is visible. Warm, indirect overhead lighting and a hint of natural light from an unseen window create soft highlights and minimal shadows. Captured from a slightly elevated angle with sharp focus throughout, the composition feels organized, supportive, and quietly empowering, transforming a clinical routine into a moment of care and intention.

You’ll see scan printouts, hospital wristbands, goofy selfies with nurses, and snapshots from home in Dallas—small visual proof that grief, fear, gratitude, and stubborn hope can all crowd into the same frame.