caregiver

Learning to Breathe Again

I have a problem. I don’t remember the final moments of my life before I became a caregiver. Most importantly, I don’t remember much about a day that changed my life. A day that changed my family’s life.

Dear Cancer, I am Making Ashlynne Proud

I always wondered what I would say to you, if given the chance. I had it all planned out in my head, the hatred I had for you, the anger. I have sat down to write just to delete it, and write it again.

Everywhere and Always

Dear Cancer, As far as I know I’m not supposed to be stopped in the grocery store in front of all the bread, frozen in my body by a sudden wave of dread and images of sickness. I’m not supposed to be listing chemo drugs in my head as I drive or zoning out of a conversation with my neighbor wondering whether they are scared of death too.

Beyond Reason

When my 3-year-old daughter, Cecilia, was diagnosed with childhood leukemia, we were wrecked—shattered, overwhelmed, and drowning in a reality we never saw coming.

The New Normal of Moving Forward

As I sat on my couch during a surprisingly warm April afternoon, I awaited the news my family had been dreading for weeks. I sat there watching YouTube videos on my phone while my thoughts wandered aimlessly. What if she did have it?

The Now

In 2019, I was diagnosed with breast cancer at age 33. I had surgery and treatment in Boston and then moved home to Hudson Valley, New York to live close to my family. I met the love of my life shortly thereafter. After about two and a half years together, in October 2023, he was diagnosed with a rare form of kidney cancer.

Hope

We have a tree called Hope. The anniversary of Matt’s diagnosis is a painful day for us; there was no happiness, so we do not celebrate it. Instead, we celebrate the anniversary of his completion of treatment.

Sleeping with My Caregiver

Naked and ashamed, I just want to hide. I want to be alone. I don’t want what he wants. I don’t even know who I am anymore.

I lay there hoping this time will be different. This time, I will be more into him. Maybe it won’t hurt, or I won’t bleed. Maybe cancer won’t have the final say.

It Must Be Me

As I lay there screaming into the ground, nothing came out, not even a faint puff of air. I had cried so many tears the day before from anger, frustration, and grief. I let my face just scrape up against the cold ground. It was the only way I could force myself to feel again: frigid ground attempting to wake me up. Waiting for Ashton Kutcher to tap me on the shoulder and exclaim, “YOU’VE BEEN PUNKED!”

The Loneliness of Caregiving

On the day before my partner Dil was diagnosed, we went water tubing. The day off was a stolen pleasure on a beautiful Monday morning in June and we had been together for about two and a half years. About midway through our float, I capsized, fell into the river, my bathing suit top fell off, and my knees were scraped against the bottom of the river.