The beginning. St. Jude's. Childhood.

Maybe some day I will get better/more creative with blog titles. I bet if I get out the markers...


Let's rewind to age eight, that's a lot of rewinding in case you don't want to do the math.  I started to see these little red bumps. I remember hollering to my mum that I had the chicken pox again. She didn't believe me at first, which was understandable, as I just had them twice. I was hoping there was no "little pink pill", otherwise known as Benadryl, in my near future. A doctor came in. He said these aren't the chicken pox. These are petechia. Sounds like an animal, no? Or distant cousin to the Chia Pet. Do you remember those? Do they even make them?  The tone got serious. I remember looking around the room knowing something was awkward, but not knowing what to say or do. Then came questions about fevers, bruising, headache, fatigue. Bruising, that was a good one. I was constantly bruised. A tomboy.With multiple brothers. In a dress. It had to be a dress. "We need to do some testing." Pretty certain those were the words that put the mum worry gene in full force. We came back a short time later and it was determined I had Leukemia. Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia to be exact. I kept thinking that I somehow needed to magically learn how to drive, because I was scared to get in the car with my mother. Fortunately, they had a counselor and she was able to calm down. It was a long walk home otherwise. I remember far more details than I original thought. It's a bit comforting, in some sort of weird, nonsensical way.

Let's fast-forward and shorten the sequence of events, into something shorter than a frickin' novel Dawn, cmon. If you are still reading, Hi :) I started chemo and did not respond as well as they hoped. Actually, I was barely responding at all. Granted, I was very sick. I felt awful. I had lost my hair. On that note, secretly I thought that part was kinda cool. When else do you get to see the shape of your head? Never, that's when. I wanted everyone to have a shaved head. Not because it was traumatic for me, but because it intrigued me. I tried to picture everybody bald. Try it for a day. It can be immense amounts of fun. They soon realized that my Leukemia was resisting the chemo and they weren't really sure what to do. It also spread into my nervous system, so radiation began as well. My doctors (yes I can call them mine. I had them wrapped around my positive little fingers) had been talking to St. Jude's and decided that they would be more equipped to deal with the resilience. They couldn't have been more wonderful to me or my family. You are treated exactly how I wanted. No one treats you like a baby. You are just ill and receive medical treatment, but you enjoy yourself as much as possible. The kids always had to cheer up the parents. It's true. There are no words that I could ever say that would express the gratitude to St. Jude's and their staff. They treat the kids with respect. They make sure the families are as comfortable as possible. They go above and beyond anything you can fathom. Most of all, four years later I left. With new bone marrow and in remission, with an even bigger spirit than I went in with. Which I am told was next to impossible. After all, I am really good at testing the limits of impossible. I am stubborn, almost to a fault. I know. I'm aware. I think it's only gotten worse, or better depending on your definition.

Even as an adult, they still mean the world to me. After all, I have them to thank for my life. They were first, anyhow :) I try to put on at least one fundraiser a year, regardless of how I am feeling. It goes way beyond that. People walk in St. Jude's thinking 'well maybe I can inspire someone today' but in reality, end up walking out being more inspired than they could ever imagine. Ask anyone who has been. Tough athlete. Musician. Professional wrestlers. You could take someone from any profession and that statement would still hold true.

If you ever get a chance to visit, attend a fundraiser, volunteer, draw a picture/write a letter, or have a spare dollar or two, please think about donating.

About me. Sorta. More like about this blog and less about me- ish?

So I guess this is the part where I explain myself? My experience? My thought process? Or lack there of? Things I am not very good at communicating? Right. Here goes nothing.

This is my attempt to find peace of mind. Maybe no one will read it. Maybe I'd (not so) secretly prefer it that way. Honestly, who knows...definitely not me. I do know that I tend to hold the weight of the world on my shoulders and go through life with a positive mental attitude, but avoid communicating the not so pleasant things.

As a child, I always feared that if I ever talked about how I was feeling mentally or what I was going through, it would turn into an instant pity party. I learned that I was a smart child and that was fairly accurate. Now as an adult, I'd like to think that may not hold, yet I seem to get that same emotion if I ever open up, even just a little, about what I've gone through/am going through. Not always, but more often than I am comfortable with. I've toyed around with the idea of this blog for quite some time, but always talked myself out of it. I can't think of a name. I don't know how to make it pretty (I am a girl, duh). I can rarely be completely honest with people I know about my health and state of mind, much less the possibility of doing so with total strangers in the land of internet. After all, I was very good at dealing/hiding (whichever term made me feel better at the time) it. I've had a lot of practice. I could probably argue that I could have gone pro. Not that it's something one should be proud of. Or that someone was going to think I was whining. That someone probably being me. I'd think to myself 'Get a grip Dawn. Someone has it worse than you. Be thankful for what you do have' and I'd almost start to feel a bit guilty that I had to convince myself of such a concept, and that it didn't just come naturally, all the time. Those are things that crossed my mind on a regular basis. Yep, almost all of them. They might be even all be true, but as much as I thought about it, I never actually did it. Now I am writing this, I am doing it. Finally. I hope I don't decide to just hit the delete button in the near future. I know how long it took me and all the excuses I pulled to avoid it. Excuses to myself mind you. I am pretty sure I am capable of putting up the same (solid) argument again. Will anyone read it? Will I even read it? Can I write in a clear, concise, rational way? Probably not. I am more prone to ramblings full of rubbish. Proceed with caution. I've got the yellow tape out. Totally prepared. I should have started this blog at age eight. I think at that age we played Oregon Trail and learned what to do when the computer freezes Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing. I could blame my neurological issues for my scatterbrain-ness? I think they were present before those. It must be my older brothers. Who knows what they dropped me on as a child.

Oh P.S. I know I'm not the best writer. I also don't have the faintest idea on how to make this blog pretty. I like the simplicity that it has now. Feel free to make suggestions :)