My Cancer Story

Before We Get Started, Let Me Tell You Who I Am

I almost didn’t make this.

Not this post — this life. The version of my life where I’m sitting here typing this to you, healthy enough to put words together, alive enough to have something to say.

In July 2023, I went to the emergency room thinking I was constipated. I was sent home with laxatives. Six days later, I was back — and this time they found a bowel obstruction, rushed me into emergency surgery, and I woke up with two ostomy bags attached to my body and a cancer diagnosis I couldn’t fully hear yet.

I was 44. Active. Healthy. Completely blindsided.

What followed was two years of chemotherapy, surgeries, a stage 4 diagnosis, firing a doctor who wasn’t doing his job, rebuilding trust with a new medical team, and learning — slowly, painfully, sometimes hilariously — how to survive something that tried very hard to end me.

I’m not starting this newsletter because I have it all figured out. I’m starting it because I don’t — and I think that’s exactly the kind of honesty that’s missing from most cancer stories people tell publicly.

You’re going to read things here that aren’t inspirational. You’re going to hear about the days I couldn’t get out of bed, the moments I was terrified, the times the fear felt bigger than the faith. You’re also going to hear about the laughter, the absurdity, the nurses who became angels, the moments of pure grace that showed up in the middle of the worst seasons of my life.

This is my diary. Unfiltered. No performing. No pretending.

If you’re a patient — you are not alone.

If you’re a caregiver — you are seen here too.

If you’re someone who’s never dealt with cancer and just stumbled here — welcome. Stay. This is for you too.

My name is Von. I have been diagnosed with colorectal cancer twice. I am currently in remission.

And I have a lot to say.

— Von