JOURNAL: Awaiting the sign

Here I am again. At the end of another cycle of chemotherapy, anxiously awaiting next week's scans to see if the toxic chemicals that have been pumped directly into my veins since May have finally rid my body of cancer.

Last Monday, I completed my eighth, three-hour session of chemo. The last cycle was, by far, the most difficult, since I had originally been told to expect four months of chemo. When my last round of scans came back after two months of treatment, however, there was still about 10 percent of the cancer still in me, though it was not metabolically active.

JOURNAL: On the road, one step at a time

One of the best pieces of advice I received from my primary care doctor upon being diagnosed with Stage 2 Hodgkin's Lymphoma in April was to take it one step at a time.

That advice proved invaluable, especially when trying to process my emotions and helping my family through theirs. As tears filled the eyes of my loved ones, I think I remained somewhat stoic, leaning on early indications that with treatment everything would be alright. 

JOURNAL: Dude, it's the whites

I went in for my second session of Chemotherapy for my Stage 2 Hodgkin's Lymphoma yesterday (June 1).

It was a jarring end to an otherwise wonderful weekend, which itself capped of a half week of near perfect health. After working full time last week, my brother and an old friend came down for a two-day stay.

JOURNAL: The good, the bad, the lovely

Yesterday (May 19) was not a good day.

It all started when I was awoken by the sound of heavy raindrops on my bedroom skylight. Normally, that would have been a soothing sound, but yesterday, it was menacing.

My wife needed to head into town to finish up some work. She would return five hours later to take me to my chemo-class, an introduction to the treatment and coping mechanisms for side-effects. When she kissed me goodbye, I was in bed and I stayed there throughout the morning, unable to summons the strength to face the day.