In May 2005, my father was diagnosed with testicular cancer.
We had doctors. We had appointments. We had information delivered in clinical language that answered the medical questions and left everything else untouched.
What did this mean for his life? For our family? What were we supposed to feel? What were we supposed to ask? What came after treatment, and what did that version of life look like?
We figured it out. He survived. But we figured it out the hard way, without a roadmap, without a community, without anyone a few steps ahead of us telling the truth about what this was actually like.
That's what Stories is for.
This is the place for the long version. Not a quick question, not a comment, but the whole thing. The morning you found the lump. The waiting room. The sentence from your oncologist you still replay. The first good day after. The parts that are funny now and weren't then. The parts that still aren't resolved.
You don't have to be a writer. You have to be honest. That's the only requirement, and it's the only one that matters.
How it works
You choose how your name shows up. Your display name, or your anonymous handle, the same one you use in Ask the Club. Per story, your call.
Every story gets a quick read from our team before it goes live. That's not us editing your voice. It's us keeping this space safe for the people in it.
Once it's approved, your story is readable by other members and by people out on the open internet who are searching, right now, for exactly what you're describing. That reach is the entire point.
Where to start
If you're staring at a blank page, pick one:
• The day everything changed, told minute by minute • The one thing you wish someone had told you before treatment • What recovery actually looked like, not the highlight reel • A letter to yourself the week you were diagnosed • The part that still isn't resolved
Start a draft. Save it. Sit on it for a week. Come back to it. There's no word count and no deadline.
Survivors are one of the most powerful forces in this space. A story travels. It shows up at exactly the right moment, even when no one is there to deliver it. The thing you wish your family had found in 2005, the roadmap we never got, you can be that for the next person.
I built this so those stories would have a home. Now they do.
Hit Write a story when you're ready. I can't wait to read yours.
— Kenny