Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 30, 2013

1st Runner-Up - Best Blogger


The May issue of Hartford Magazine containing all the 2013 Best Of Winners has hit the press. Turns out I was voted "1st Runner Up" as "Best Blogger in Greater Hartford." It's quite an honor to be sandwiched between Colin McEnroe and Jim Shea – two area writers that I greatly respect and admire. 

Many thanks to everyone who took the time to send a vote my way, and of course, for reading along with my story over all these years now. Thanks for helping to push me – both in my writing and as I work to shed this disease. Writing this blog is such a privledge and more healing to me than any medicine. The fact that people actually seem to enjoy reading it is a humbling and exciting bonus! So, thanks. I'm honored. 




Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Fighting Disease With Words


The below piece was published yesterday on The Huffington Post and is featured in the Healthy Living section as part of the HuffPo's Generation WHY series focused on young adults with cancer. I'll be contributing regularly here, so please become a "fan" or follow me from my Huffington Post page to get alerted to my postings on the news website. This first piece is focused on how blogging has helped me get through the difficult times and accentuate the positive ones that have crept in along this wild adventure. 

Thanks for checking it out!
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As a writer and blogger, rather than unraveling at the words my oncologist is speaking, I am able to think about what a juicy story nugget his uncomfortable delivery makes. Once, he was telling me that despite the intensive, debilitating treatment I had just endured, the cancer was back and rapidly spreading. Instead of crying, I focused on the way he bit his bottom lip when delivering difficult news and at the prominent crook in his nose, which looked as if it were broken and re-broken after too many hockey fights.

I focused on his crisp baby blue shirt -- the only color I'd ever seen him wear. I wondered what his closet looked like, imagining hangers upon hangers of stiff collared shirts of only pale blue in checks, stripes and prints hung above a shelf of folded khakis and a row of boat shoes, the makings of the outfit that unfailingly peeked out from under his white lab coat.

As my transplant doctor detailed the risks of infertility, hair loss, permanent organ damage, and, oh yeah, death, I faced, I watched him swing his stethoscope in circles between his fingers, a nervous habit he leaned on when answering my pointed questions about survival rates and statistics. Focusing on these future narrative details saved me from breaking down at the reality of what was happening all around me.