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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Sunday, July 12, 2009

Seven years bad luck

Yesterday was a Dunkin Donuts morning. I never have dunkin donuts morning, but yesterday, I knew it was going to take a serious coffee to jumpstart me. I hopped in my parents trusty van in my pajamas and camo hat, incognito, and started backing out of the campsite checking over my right shoulder for little kids, animals, trees, and such when I hear CCCRRRUUUNNNCHH. S***! I forgot there was a left side of the car that needed some attention. "Maybe, nobody heard that." I thought to myself, eyes darting around, hoping I could avoid getting picked on until after my caffeine had kicked in despite the fact that Liz was sitting in the passenger seat watching the whole thing go down. "Ssshhh. Ssshhh!" I said to hear urgently, waving like she was the one being loud and about to get me busted. No such luck in hiding my misdeeds. At 9 am at a campground you can still hear a pin drop. My tree bashing wasn't going unnoticed. The left mirror had managed to remain sturdily fascened to the car, but the actual mirror had smashed completely. "Dammit, I busted my mom's car and now I have seven years bad luck on top of it. UGH.". But then I thought "hey," relaxing a little bit, " I have seven years bad luck. YES! I have seven years, guys!". And THAT my friends is from the head of an incurable optimist. All is well that ends well and anthing that promises seven years is good enough for me.

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