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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Thursday, November 19, 2009

Vini. Vidi. Vici.

Everytime I come home from the hospital there is at least one evening of transition time.

The length it takes to transition back home and into “mom mode” under X’s eyes depends on the state I’m in.

If you didn’t live with us day to day, minute to minute, you would never know the changes, but they’re there.

X sees me, breaks into a big smile, but depending on how I respond determines how big his smile is.

If I come home and collapse into bed, he’ll come solemnly to my bedside and snuggle for a second before leaving me to hang out with dad, as if I’m not even there.

He’ll come in every once and a while to check on me testing what condition I’m in, if I’m up to snuggling/talking/playing.

Tuesday was a great home coming.

Despite my confirmed case of Influenza A, which is the type of H1N1, I’m feeling relatively good.

I saw X, I gave him a BIG SMILE and asked him for some love, and he gave it up in a big way, so didn’t Lexi and our other niece, Zariah, who was going after a hug from me like a fat kid after the last twinkie.

When we got him home, Dad whipped out the present we’d gotten us: Nintendo’s Old School Mario and Luigi.

Yes, our son can grow up with the same video game we loved, and I was treated like Queen of all Moms for playing it with him. He’s been signing my praises day and night since I returned home.

I’m feeling lucky, and a little bit of an emotion I almost didn’t recognize since it has been so long since I felt it.

I think it’s called. . . . . relief.

Yeah, that’s it, like a burden has been lifted off my shoulders.

I don’t have to worry about exposing myself to the dreaded plague of the swine flu and I don’t have to worry about anymore scary cancer treatments.

Been there, done that.

Vini. Vidi. Vici.

I came. I saw. I conquered.

I went to the hospital quickly, and Dartmouth took every precaution possible to ensure that I stayed safe.

For all of you gasping and wondering if you’ll get H1N1 and what will you do, if I made it through so can you.

I might just post my video of the nasal washing I received to confirm the diagnosis so all of you can remember when you ask your provider to test you’re really asking for someone to stick an 8 inch long tube up your nose then to squirt 3 ml (a little under a tsp.) of saline up your nose then to suck it back out again.

Be careful what you wish for.

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