Hodgkin Lymphoma

Dear Cancer, You Won’t Stop Me

I have some choice words for you. I can tell you off or tell you to go somewhere, or say that I hate you. But you’re a smug, stubborn son of a gun and don’t care. I have no choice but to fight you and go to battle.

What’s Your History?

Do you have a history of this? No. Do you have a history of that? No. Sorry, these are just routine questions. I must ask some more.

Cancer Treatment Doesn’t End After Chemotherapy

It was March 3, 2022 and I was checking my online chart to see what was going on with me.

I went through a sonogram, a biopsy, and various other blood tests to check out the large growth on my neck. “The immunophenotypic features of the large, atypical cells are consistent with the diagnosis of classic Hodgkin lymphoma,” the words hit me like a train running me over at 100 miles an hour.

Fake It Until You Make It

When you see cancer portrayed in the media, there are two common storylines. Either the patient is dying, or they are living their “best life” despite it all.

I Didn’t Expect to Live

Expectations.

I expected to live a long, healthy life without wondering if I’ll reach my thirtieth birthday.

I expected not to lie awake tonight, stunned and saddened because Alex is gone.

Dear Cancer

Dear Cancer,

you probably don’t remember me.
you’ve probably seen a million kids since you met me.
there are thousands of kids that they couldn’t save,

Dear Cancer, Isn’t It Ironic?

Dear Cancer,

Read those two words again, isn’t it ironic? “Dear cancer.” Two words that should never be side by side, but here they are placed together so carelessly and yet also intentionally.

I Walked A Thousand Miles

I walked a thousand miles away from home—
IV stands and frozen steps
Dicarbozene and overcast skies
With you, the uninvited.

Dear Cancer, I am Sick of You

Dear Cancer,

Here we go again, Cancer. To be honest, I am sick of talking about you. I am exhausted by my unwanted lifetime membership in the “Cancer Club.” Nearly six years into this, it feels like my whole life has been intertwined with your presence.

An Open Letter to My Cancer, Dirty Gertie 

Dear Cancer (a.k.a. Dirty Gertie),

I hope this letter finds you unwell. More accurately, I assume—with fingers crossed—that this letter finds you dead and gone. Unfortunately, my total confidence in your demise has been restricted by a single, nagging whisper that constantly threatens: “What if it comes back?”