Baldies' Blog began originally in the UK by a 26 year old journalist with a blood cancer on a mission to inform the world about bone marrow donation.

He has since died, and I took on the cause of making cancer care more transparent for everybody.

Cancer is a disease that will touch everybody through diagnosis or affiliation: 1 in 2 men will be diagnosed and 1 in 3 woman will hear those words, "You Have Cancer."

I invite you to read how I feel along my journey and
how I am continuing to live a full life alongside my Hodgkin's lymphoma, with me controlling my cancer, not my cancer controlling me.

I hope that "Baldies' Blog" will prepare you to handle whatever life sends you, but especially if it's the message, "You Have Cancer."

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Monday, September 29, 2008


I didn’t want to admit I had a problem when I first became sick. I was exhausted. I thought my fatigue was a house wife secret. I was transitioning between being a college girl, girlfriend, and mom to wife, mother, and nurse. I had a house to take care of. I had meals to cook. I had an active two year old who always wanted to take long hikes and run. I had a job that was physically and emotionally demanding. I worked a lot because that is what I thought my twenties were for. I wanted to relax later. I wanted to retire early.
How did I figure out my fatigue was pathological? If anyone saw Desperate Housewives last night you saw Gabby have her chubby four year old chase her car for exercise and tell her daughter it was a game she was winning. I laughed until I cried, because about January 2006 I became too tired to take care of my son all day. I was devastated. I thought it reflected on me as a mother. If he didn’t fall asleep for nap, I would. Jon would get home and I’d be cranky. I couldn’t get dinner on the table. My house was getting cluttered (not dirty or messy because I still hate when that happens).
My favorite game to play with X became “chase the car.” He needed to run, and I couldn’t. I thought I was just working too much. I needed to sleep, so I had to wear him out somehow. I’d trained him from a young age to hike and be exceptionally energetic because I wanted a son that could keep up with me. I made a mistake. Now I couldn’t keep up with him.
So just about everyday he’d wear me out and I’d ask him if he wanted to go for a run, down the driveway, to nana’s house, it didn’t really matter. I’d hop in my car, put X on that grass, turn around, and holler out my window “ready, set, go” and we’d be off.
The difference between Gabby and I is that I have a ½ mile long driveway. X and I could do a couple lapse of chase the car without being “caught” by our neighbors. He’d get in about a mile a day. I thought this was “normal.” He was my child after all. It’s in his genes to run.
I thought this until I got caught. My husband knew I’d been doing this, he told me it was weird, but he was always telling me not to do things. Linda found me out when she was coming over for a visit one day, and I realized how my fun and games may look to an outsider. I decided to stop. I decided I probably was a little tired from my lifestyle. I didn’t think I had cancer, I thought I needed a break. I increased the amount of time he went to daycare to the days I was working and afternoons so I could get my nap in. I fixed the problem and called it good. I didn’t know what such a simple symptom would turn out to be.

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