Telling your children you have cancer Family Matters by Ashford - June 17, 2016June 14, 20161 “Daddy has cancer.” For 3 months these words were balled up in my throat making it impossible to breathe, to speak. For 3 months every time I looked at my children's faces I could feel them rising up like vomit that I had to force back down. The tears welled up in my eyes as I imagined the impending “talk” we couldn’t avoid. They knew something was wrong. Of course they knew. He had been through 2 surgeries and we had been gone countless days visiting specialists out of town. They’re smarter than I give them credit. The undercurrent in our house was tense and uncomfortable with the unspoken words. But saying it out loud was more than I could handle. We planned
It was easier when he was sick Crazy by Ashford - June 7, 2016June 7, 20161 Can I be honest here? Can I say something horrible that no one would ever think to say? Except that they might think it. Or they might think that I’m horrible for saying it. It could really go either way at this point. But I pride myself on my brutal (and sometimes inappropriate) honesty. So here it goes… It was easier when he was sick. There I said it. And I haven’t been struck by lightening just yet so let me explain myself if you would. It’s been almost a year since my husband was diagnosed with stage 3 melanoma. It’s been about 8 months since he began chemo. And it’s been about 3 months since he’s been feeling somewhat “normal” and our lives have returned. But
Diagnosed with Cancer: A Google Story Crazy by Ashford - April 25, 20165 Recently Google made waves with the launch of the ability to download your entire search history. It horrifies some people and intrigues others (like me). What secrets do you an Google share that no one else knows? It got me thinking. And it got me searching. And as I delved into my own personal Google history it told a story. I’ve written a lot over the last few months about our crash collision with cancer as my husband was diagnosed with stage 3 melanoma in early July. As I scanned through my searches it gave me a window into the whirlwind of surviving a cancer diagnosis. It’s not the typical story, but it’s an interesting spin. You can literally “see” the thought
Taking back the cheese drawer. Taking back my life. Family Matters by Ashford - March 21, 2016March 21, 20165 I love cheese. I love all kinds of cheese. Stinky cheese, expensive cheese, squirt cheese (which isn’t really even cheese). Six months ago I emptied out my cheese drawer and filled it with boxes of chemotherapy. A drug that I was to inject into my husband’s belly 3 times a week. I hate chemotherapy. I hate the side effects, I hate the emotions, I hate the mental battle it is to inject someone you love with something you know darn well is poisonous. I hate watching him suffer. So many of you have been following our story over the past several months. You know that 8 months ago our world got rocked when the hubs was diagnosed with Stage 3 Melanoma. (If
What I didn’t expect to get from cancer Crazy by Ashford - February 22, 2016February 17, 20163 You know how people say things and it just rubs you the wrong way sometimes? They certainly don’t intend to offend and yet there it is. You force a smile because you know they mean well. But all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and all you can feel is your cheeks getting hotter and hotter. This is exactly how I feel when I hear people say “Cancer is a gift”. I don’t know what kind of a crappy gift giver you are but I am sure that no matter how bad your taste cancer most certainly is NOT a gift. But, when you wade through the flood waters you will find that although cancer itself is not
Living with the white noise Crazy by Ashford - February 15, 2016February 11, 20166 I don’t sleep since I became a mother. Long after my children began sleeping through the night I found myself up and fretting in darkness. My mind spinning with chores, to dos, and nightmares. The fears that come when loving something so much the very inkling of losing it keeps you up for weeks on end. Every sound, every cry jolts me awake in a fight or flight stance. Ready to defend what’s mine against the terrors of this world. Some time ago I bought noise maker to drown out the creaks and whimpers made by a house full of three sleeping children. The white noise covers the anxiety like a thin veil. Just long enough for me to drift away. And
My confession Family Matters by Ashford - February 8, 2016February 7, 20162 I feel like I need to address something with all of you, my readers. I need to set the record straight. After a recent post I received countless emails, texts, comments, and messages declaring my bravery and my strength. And although I truly appreciate these heartfelt sentiments there is something I need to confess… I am not strong. No, I am not. In fact, I believe I may be the antithesis of strength. I struggled, I cried, I broke. I barely made it through. I clawed my way through each day- each moment. And somehow found myself standing here. On the other side. No. I am not strong but there is strength all around me. My God is strong. He provided for me in ways
Walking through the valley Family Matters by Ashford - February 1, 2016January 30, 20161 It’s the little things that clue you in- the nuances. No one ever said to me “this is an emergency this is dangerous” but somehow I knew. It was when the nurse insisted that he sit in a wheelchair. When she didn’t ask him to step onto the scale to do a weight check. When she left the exam room door opened and casually pointed out the call button on the wall. These were the things that made my heart start to pound and my senses heighten. It was when the doctor ordered a head CT and a chest x-ray that sent me grappling through my purse to find a discarded pill bottle of xanax because I knew- somehow I
Ring my bell Family Matters by Ashford - October 30, 201510 Today marks the end of a large part of our battle. Today he gets his last dose of IV chemotherapy. Today he gets to ring the bell that signifies the passage to the next part of the journey. That bell hangs on the wall across the room. I have been staring at that bell for an entire month. I have watched so many others take their turn all the while longing for it to be his. I have clapped, cheered, and eaten cupcakes in celebration of their journeys. I have rejoiced with them in earnest sincerity. But today….today is finally HIS day. This man who has endured unimaginable suffering without ever uttering a single complaint. This man who received 19 doses of
Don’t ask me how I’m doing. Please. Crazy by Ashford - October 12, 2015October 12, 20157 “How are you doing?” It seems innocent enough and at the time you asked I was laughing and sipping my salted caramel latte. It’s the normal conversation that friends have over coffee, or at the salon, or over the phone. But I would feel like a fraud if I gave you the brush off “I’m good!” I know that you would know that I am lying- especially if you can see my eyes as the fear, anxiety, pain, and tears well up. I tried it once- to straight out lie. I was at my doctor’s office at a routine visit for my annual health screening. “I’ve been copied on all of your husband’s medical records. I know about the cancer. And the surgeries.
