Category Archives: Looking back

Life, Love and Lollipops

This weekend was the long awaited “Mummy Blogger’s” conference, CyberMummy11. I had been looking forward to it for ages. I couldn’t wait to see bloggers that I had previously met, and meet others that I felt I already knew.

Although, part of me wondered if I was out of my depth.

I’m not a writer. Not really. I like to kid myself that I might be, but I’m not. I read other peoples blogs, and they ARE writers. Their posts flow nicely and they are deep and meaningful. My 400 twitter followers pale into comparison to their thousands.

This blog, ‘kin Hodgkin’s started as a cancer blog. And there was plenty of cancer to blog about.

Now? Not so much, and I have felt for a while now that I needed to do one of two things: 1) Stop blogging or 2) Rebrand.

Both of these scare me. I don’t want to stop blogging. I enjoy it. Sometimes I get writers block, and I go quiet for a week and I find myself sat in front of my laptop wondering exactly what to write about.

Rebranding? Changing my blog name, blog url, blog design. Scary stuff. What if no one reads it? What if it’s all for nothing?

I don’t feel like ‘kin Hodgkin’s has a future. I need to move on from my cancer, and that means moving on from this blog. I won’t be deleting this blog, just like I can’t erase the fact I had cancer. That will always be a part of me, and so will ‘kin Hodgkin’s.

The new one will be up and running soon, and I will post here to let you know when that happens so you can come on over and join me. I hope you will.


One Year On

Exactly one year ago today, at this exact time (I’ve scheduled this post to go out at this time for a reason), I was sat in a consultation room at Selly Oak hospital, with (what felt like) a 12 year old registrar, who would tell me that I had Nodular Sclerosing Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Well, eventually she did. First of all she told me I had non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. 

I remember bursting into tears, and being scared. But I also remember feeling really angry that no one had listened in the first place. I wanted answers. I wanted to know what treatment I would have. I wanted to know what stage I was. I wanted to know how it would effect my fertility. I wanted to know when treatment would start. I walked away with no answers to any of those questions, but an appointment to see a haematologist 24 hours later. That was a hellish 24 hours, I can tell you.

I remember walking out of that room, tears streaming down my face, worried that everyone was looking at me, and Neil pulling me to one side and hugging me while I sobbed my heart out. I remember the phonecall’s I made with no hello, just: “It’s Hodgkin’s”. Then we went home, Christine was looking after Jake, and we had to tell her. That wasn’t fun.

My parents were waiting to hear my results, and I’d purposely not told them I was getting them that day. I knew it was going to be bad news, and I wanted to tell them in person, but I also wanted to give them answers, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to that day. How could I give them answers when I didn’t have any? My dad called about 20 minutes after we got home, Neil answered and told him we’d get them the next day.

I remember Nick cancelling his work trip to Germany. I remember us ordering pizza. I remember Neil sat upstairs, researching Hodgkin’s and chemo. He’d refused to before, because he didn’t want to research it if we didn’t know it’s what I had.

I didn’t sleep well that night, and the next day dragged until I had my appointment with my haematologist. She made me feel OK again. I trusted her to make me better. She gave me answers to the questions I had, and I was able to see my parents that night and tell them without crying. My mum didn’t cry, I think she saved it for when we left. She only cried in front of me once, and I’m glad for that. That night, I slept.

So, one year on and I cay say I kicked Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t pleasant. It wasn’t fun. But – I did it. And although it’s not all over, there’s still the small matter of the thyroid cancer, but that’s easy in comparison, just a bit more surgery and maybe some radio iodine at some point, and hopefully that’s my lot.


I’ve added the pictures of Jake and me so you can see how much he’s grown in the last year, and of course to see how gorgeous he is! I am one very proud mummy (most of the time!). All I can hope for, is that one day he reads my story and is of proud of me as I am of him.