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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Saturday, March 7, 2009

Boys will be Boys

It’s been a really LONG winter. To offset the fact that it is extremely difficult, and even painful, for me to go out into the cold, I’ve set up some play areas for Xander and I.
Our favorite is the mini basketball court in our hallway. It boasts two nerf hoops, a scoreboard, and if we want it, a trampoline.
It’s a good way to get the energy out.
If I could, X would play everyday, all day, but since I can’t, he’ll settle for 30 minutes or an hour each day.
With this I’ve also wondered when, exactly, it’s okay to start teaching him funny dirty sports tricks.
I knew quite a few by six. Come to find out, I didn’t need to teach him at all.
I knew I was in a little trouble with this by the second or third day of our set up.
I was defending Xander. Everytime he would “show me the ball” I would take it. This happened over and over again.
I showed him how to put his body between the ball and the defender and dribble to the hoop.
We’d done this for 10 minutes. He was doing well.
I was crouched down at his height defending him. He was dribbling the ball and pushing me with his body when, suddenly, he turned his head and gave me THAT LOOK.
It’s the look that says, “I’m-about-to-do-something-bad-and-it’s-going-to-be-funny.”
I knew I was in trouble. I recognized that look. He got it from me.
Before I knew it he’d turned his body and bounced the ball of my face, making my glasses go flying.
THEN while I was worried about my glasses, feeling the ground, and trying to see, he dribbled past me to the hoop and scored.
I crumbled onto the ground and laughed so hard I cried.
After he realized that I was not only not going to punish him but thought it was HYSTERICAL. He began to laugh too.
I heard about a trick like this before six too. I probably learned it after an alumni game at Keene State where the guys had one, two, or maybe five, too many drinks, and the woman were all in the corner rolling their eyes.
They decided, like they often did, that their kids had to be raised right. It was never too early to learn the tricks of the trade.
Scottie decided to impart the wisdom on us that, if we ever decided to head butt somebody on the field and break their nose, it would take them 30 seconds to realize it was broken and they were hurt. Thirty seconds is plenty of time to make it to the opposite end of the field where the ball is.
If you do it right, you’re not going to get caught.
X’s self made move reminded me a lot of this old trick.
Boys will be boys.

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