A lot didn’t go well today. I had 26 tubes of blood drawn for diagnostic testing, as well as a 22 gauge needle stabbed in my back with light anesthesia—all part of pre-transplant testing—only to be told my transplant has been cancelled.

Life sure is testing my resolve.

I am fighting cancer for a third fucking time.

Despite being in remission after my second cycle of R-ICE in December, my stubborn lymphoma has returned. At this point my mind is more sore than my body.

Frustrated does not even begin to describe all the feelings bubbling up inside me and occasionally spilling out.

I dreamt recently that the PET scan showed my cancer was back, and this was one nightmare that came true.

Fuck cancer.