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, August 26, 2010


I had a sad day today. 
I'm depressed. 
I cried reading Good Housekeeping.
 That's bad. 
I couldn't hold it together. My friend called, asked how I was, and I burst out crying. 
My O2 sat was 90 percent sitting yesterday. 
That's getting too close for comfort. 89 percent on room air puts me on o2 all the time. 
My shortness of breath is worsening, and none of the tests I thought my doc was ordering got ordered...... Since june. 
I met with my NP Anna yesterday, luckily, bc doc was on my shitlist. 
Of course, like any good nurse, she took good care of me.
 She even got the thyroid panel I asked for in june after my TSH came back high and low and behold my throid isn't working. Probably part of the reason I have no energy and can't shake me steroid weight, but what do I know? 
I'm scared for those patients less knowledgable with less balls than me. I'm sure they don't live as long. 
I was beginning to think doc had pushed me over to his "terminal" pile and took a summer vacation. 
I do hope we all understand that this "chronic cancer" is just a euphemism for terminal without a miracle (keep those prayers coming). 
But then he called all jolly trying to track me down everywhere to tell me the PET scan I had looked "really really good."
 I'm glad he didn't get ahold of me bc I wouldve kicked that good mood into next tuesday. 
I'm still shopping for a wheelchair and thinking of ways I can still get around with an oxygen tank. But it did lift my mood, just a little, even though the message didn't come with a "yay, now you can stop." 
It was a "hey, maybe we could lower the dose."

1 comment:

Loraine Ritchey said...

You are one terrific mum, lady, daughter, wife and writer.... thank YOU Loraine