About a year and a half ago I was diagnosed with NHL, specifically Diffuse Large B-Cell lymphoma. At that time it was all spleen-central, and they took out my spleen, and all seemed fantastic, except for not having a spleen.

For those of you being all “Pfft. Spleen. What does a spleen even do?”, well, you’d be surprised. Your spleen isn’t sitting there playing cards with your appendix and watching soap operas. The spleen is a busy little hub of the lymphatic system, kind of screening out the big stuff before it gets sent any further. So, not having a spleen has meant I have gotten sick easier. If you have had a cold in the last year and half, I’ve gotten it from you, even if you live in stupid far-away-from-me places. (I’m looking at you, Wisconsin.)

But the thing about lymphoma is that you’re pretty likely to come down with a case of the cancer more than once. And this time around, there was no spleen to take care of the dirty work, so it’s all R-CHOP and radiation for this gal.

And now I’m bald and I have a rash on my head, and holy balls, you guys, I am really damn tired, and barfy, and my bones hurt really bad. I also noticed a marked increase in my complainy-ness.

But, I’ve been closed mouthed about this, and here’s why. YOU! PAY ATTENTION! I’ve been quiet about this becaaaaauuuuuse…

• If I get one single (((((((((hug))))))))))) about this, I might scream. I know you mean well, and you can’t hug me in person, and you want to send positive thoughts and all of that, and I swear I’m trying to be positive myself. But please, please, don’t bracket hug me. The cancer is making me feel pitiful enough. Which brings me to…
• I don’t want anyone to treat me differently. Don’t laugh harder at some lame joke, or look at me with those eyes you make when you look at a person who is sick. Don’t treat me like I’m sick. Beeeecauuuuuuse…
• I don’t want every conversation to be about cancer. I know, you want to know what’s up. You’re concerned. And know what? I’ll totally talk about it when I need to talk about it, and I promise you that if there is anything to tell you, I will tell you. Becaaaaaauuuuuse…
• I’m scared, too.

Most of the time I am keenly aware that I am kind of a larger than life person. Sounds a bit ego maniacal, but I am aware that I have had an extraordinary life, and that my life has impacted other people and will continue to do so. That’s no small thing. I have so much to accomplish, and I know know know that cancer isn’t going to kill me or stop me.

But sometimes I’m still scared, because I am human, and it’s hard not to be. So, if I’m not talking your head off about whatever phase I am at in my treatment, it might be that I need to process it before I can open my mouth. Wait for me. You know I’ll come around.

And yeah, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you personally. Don’t take it to heart. Get mad if you need to, but, honestly, how can you stay mad at me? I have cancer. That’d be rude as hell, yo.

So, look forward to me cracking jokes and posting photos of my disgusting skull soon enough. Much love to all of the people in my life. I know I don’t make stuff easy sometimes. Too bad. Quit your whining and make me a sandwich.

Nikol Asks You:

Let’s talk about boundaries and the information you put out there on the net.