Hi, I’m Matt Gray.

If you know me, you know I’ve never been one to ask for help. I’m usually the one asking how I can help others.

As some, if not most, of you know, I was diagnosed with cancer in March 2023. From the moment I received that diagnosis, I got to work fighting it without batting an eye. Since then, I’ve endured chemotherapy, surgery, more chemotherapy, radiation, additional surgeries, and countless hospital visits in between; aall in an effort to avoid what ultimately became inevitable.

When I first learned of my diagnosis, my doctor explained that years ago, a case like mine would have resulted in an immediate amputation. At the time, I was the father of a one-year-old son, and all I could think about was what that would mean for my quality of life and my ability to be the father he deserved. Thankfully, my doctor believed limb salvage was a possibility, so we pursued every option available.

I’d like to think I exhausted every path. Every treatment. Every medication. Every procedure. For nearly three years, I fought to keep my leg.

Today, that one-year-old boy is now a big brother, and I have two children depending on me. After much thought, prayer, and consultation with my medical team, I have made the difficult decision to move forward with an above-the-knee amputation of my right leg.

I decided to amputate the source that keeps me up at night in hopes that I can finally free myself from a recurring nightmare. Rather than continue fighting a battle that has taken so much from me physically and mentally, I am choosing a path that gives me the best chance to move forward—not just for myself, but for my wife, my children, and the life we are building together.

Most people who know me know I’ve taken this journey with my head held high. I’ve tried to stay positive, stay active, and keep showing up for my family, friends, clients, and community. But if I’m being completely honest, this part scares me the most.

I’m scared of the unknown. I’m scared of the recovery. I’m scared of learning how to navigate the world differently. I’m scared of not being able to pick up my kids, chase them around the park, or be as present as I want to be during the months ahead.

At the same time, I’m hopeful.

I’m hopeful that this surgery will give me a chance to live without constant pain. I’m hopeful that it will allow me to finally move forward instead of living in fear of what comes next. Most importantly, I’m hopeful that I’ll get to watch my children grow up, continue loving my wife, and keep serving the communities and people who have given so much to me throughout my life.

As I prepare for surgery and the long road of rehabilitation that follows, my wife and I have made the decision to prioritize my recovery and our family during this transition. I will be stepping away from work full time while I focus on healing, rehabilitation, and learning how to navigate life with a prosthetic. My wife will also be taking time away from work to help care for me and our two young children as we adjust to this new chapter.

I’ve spoken with my insurance providers and have a general understanding of what will and will not be covered, but there are still many expenses that fall outside of that support. Funds raised will help offset costs related to physical therapy, prosthetic fitting and training, medical expenses, transportation, childcare, adaptive equipment, lost income, and the many unexpected challenges that come with rebuilding life after an amputation.

For those who know me through work, education, events, or simply as a friend, you’ve seen me dedicate my life to helping others grow, overcome obstacles, and discover what’s possible. Today, I find myself on the other side of that equation, learning that strength also means allowing others to help carry you when the road becomes too heavy to walk alone.

If you’re able to contribute, share this campaign, or simply keep my family in your thoughts and prayers, I would be deeply grateful.

Thank you for standing with me during the most difficult chapter of my life. I look forward to the day I can tell this story not as a cancer patient, but as a survivor who learned that losing a leg did not mean losing the ability to move forward.

With gratitude,

Matt Gray