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, November 7, 2011

Playing with pain

I decided to play with my pain meds last week. Palliative care actually started it. Like most things, I just decided to take it up a notch. I wasn't feeling nauseas or anxious so for the first time in 5 years I decided to ditch my ativan. I'm sick of burning holes in my brain. I thought I was weaning myself appropriately when on Fri, after a morning of fun with x, the exhaustion and crankiness hit me. I wanted to stay up and be fun so I took a newly prescribed stronger painpill then two cesamet or chemical marijauna pills. Those usually keep me up and moving. Not this time. Instead it knocked me flat on my ass giving me the spins and everything. I could not put a coherent thought together, and x got worried. He started asking me who he could call to hang out with them while I slept, but now I think he was scared for my well being and didn't know how to say it. He did call the only relative around, twice, asking for her to come over and get him, which I think could translate into, "I'm scared. Come check on mom. Tell me it's ok and get me out of there," but she didn't get it. I was confident I was fine, but knew I was a little too heavily medicated. That whole situation breaks my heart. I'm trying to get rid of brain burning benzos and instead almost OD with my son. Then, when x finds help, he can't get the help. I remember how I felt when I first started calling for help. I was sick, but moreso I was sad and devastated. To speak the words I had to overcome the lump in my throat threatening to cry any minute. I did not want to say the words to ask because the words made it real. The words were my admission that my life was beyond my control. I can't imagine how x feels when he's scared and desperately wants to ask for help. He's only 8, but I've been so impressed with (most) his values and ideals that are showing through when he socializes. I get the attitude, but with these past months going well, x has finally started to overcome some obstacles of his own. His reading is improving. He likes school somedays. He has a best friend. I'm so happy I get to see this. I'm alarmed that I've been on chemo almost straight through from April 2006 until now- 2011. That really hit me. We'll see how successful the ativan weaning is. I've kicked my pm habit and my am habit was mostly gone, until I got severely nauseas today. But that's another story. I don't want to need it daily. I have my PET scan today, cross your fingers, toes, and legs. Its an important day.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

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