Third Act With Pattie

Author: pattiegrogg

  • My Unreliable, Occasionally Brilliant, Totally Necessary Battle Plan”

    Weaponized Words

    Cancer.
    Lymphoma.
    Diffuse. Large. B. Cell.

    To me, it sounds less like a diagnosis and more like a bad Scrabble hand—or the world’s worst Wi-Fi password. The doctors say it like it’s just another Tuesday. I hear it and wonder if I need a translator, a medical degree, or maybe just a stiff drink.

    Knowledge: Comfort or Chaos?

    Do I need more knowledge? Less? Enough to build a binder with color-coded tabs?

    Here’s the problem: information cuts both ways. Too little, and I feel like I’m strapped in the backseat of my own life. Too much, and I’m wide awake at 2 a.m., Googling things that I cannot unsee.

    So I aim for the middle ground. Learn enough to ask smart questions. Enough to push back when I need to. Enough to carry a flashlight in the dark without blinding myself with every grim statistic.

    Structured Uncertainty

    Every day hits reset like a game I didn’t sign up to play.
    One round: emotions bouncing from high to low like a malfunctioning carnival ride.
    Next round: nausea (front-row seat), then suddenly—no nausea (intermission!).
    Add in a generous sprinkle of worry, repeat as needed.

    So how do I structure uncertainty? I can’t tame it—it’s like trying to leash a tornado. But I can give it boundaries. And I’ve learned that structure doesn’t fix everything, but it keeps me from completely unraveling. Less “perfect schedule” and more “duct tape and bubblegum holding the day together.”

    Here’s what I try to do:

    • Morning: a few stretches (bonus points if I don’t fall over).
    • Hydration: gallons of water cheered on by a cartoon llama. (Yes, it’s silly. But it’s working.)
    • Movement: multiple swalks outside with Sassy, the wonder dog!
    • Social Rule: only one possible encounter with strangers a day. I don’t have the energy for small talk and cancer.
    • Evening: rant, write, laugh, cry. Hit publish.

    Does it erase the nausea, the brain fog, or the exhaustion? Nope. But it gives my days shape. And shape means I’m trudging instead of free-falling. Trudging may not sound glamorous, but it’s still forward.

    Fighting the Battle

    So how do I fight cancer? Not with perfect pronunciation of “diffuse large B-cell lymphoma.” Not with toxic positivity or “good vibes only.”

    I fight by being stubborn. By giving uncertainty limits. By letting others hold me up when I can’t. By laughing when everything sucks. By crying when I need to. By stretching myself just enough to remind myself I’m still here, still moving, still me.

    In a battle where the finish line moves every day – This is how I win.

  • September is Blood Cancer Awareness Month

    • Did you know September is #BloodAwarenessMonth? This is our chance to shine a light on lymphoma and raise awareness about this rare cancer. I’m getting involved by [customize what you’re doing]—join me in helping spread the word! Learn how you can make an impact: lymphoma.org/BCAM💜
    • Join me in advancing lymphoma research, education, and support services by donating or fundraising for the @LymphomaCommunity this #BloodAwarenessMonth! Your contribution makes a difference in the fight against lymphoma. Together, we can create a world without lymphoma. Learn more here: lymphoma.org/BCAM💜
    • Today is #WorldLymphomaAwarenessDay, a time to come together in support of the more than one million people worldwide living or in remission from lymphoma. I’m helping raise awareness today to advance lymphoma research, education, and our search for a cure. Please join me in supporting the @lymphomacommunity and sharing this message. Together, we can create a world without lymphoma. 💜

    Make a Commitment to the Cure

    If the link above does not work, don’t give up. I’ll find another link.

  • Words

    Cancer—
    a word,
    so many words,
    once heard,
    they resonate,
    percolate,
    like kernels bursting
    in a fire too hot,
    like gum balls shattering
    against the teeth.

    And still they circle,
    but I stand steady.
    They press in,
    I press back.
    Stronger, louder,
    my heartbeat insists—
    I am here,
    I am more
    than any word.

  • A little ditty

    I had some music playing in the background while I worked on this blog, and suddenly this little ditty popped into my head. I am nothing if not honest: I can’t draw, paint, or even color inside the damn lines—and now we can officially add “songwriter” to the list of ways I will never make any money. If it sounds suspiciously like something you’ve heard before, just credit the fabulous Beatles. They’ve been renting space in my brain for five decades, and frankly, I am grateful for all the earworms!

    When I get sick and losing my hair
    Just a month from now
    Will you still see me, want to be with me
    Take me with you everywhere? 

    If I throw up and cry until three
    Will you still want to be in bed and see.
    Will you still see me, want to be with me
    When nothing is easy like we?

    When I'm so tired and the end I can't see
    And we're too scared to know what to do
    If you still see me, want to be with me
    I'll keep on fighting to stay with you. 

    If you still me, want to be with me,
    Our love grows stronger, the life we can weave.
    I'll give you my heart, you'll always be mine,
    Together, my love, till we're ninety-nine!

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  • One Week In

    It’s been a week since I sat back down in the chemo chair after 21 years away. A lot has changed in my life since then — and yes, a lot has changed in me too. Here’s what this first week has taught me.

    The Mouth Situation

    Chemo and mouths don’t get along, and mine is proof. My taste buds have left the building. Everything tastes like pennies or cardboard, which makes eating more of a chore than a comfort. Even chocolate cake — which I hated before — is still useless. I’d give anything for a piece of toast that doesn’t taste like I’m chewing tinfoil.

    Old, Cranky, and Tired

    The last time I did this, I was 48 and thought I was old. Now, at nearly 69, I actually am old — and cranky to match. My body aches, my energy is on permanent low, and most days I’m too tired to do much beyond shuffling between the bed and the recliner. I’m hoping that part changes soon, because right now my world feels very small.

    The Strange Gift of New Hours

    Fatigue has its own rules. I crash in the middle of the day and then find myself wide awake at 3 a.m. It’s not ideal, but sometimes there’s a gift in those hours — quiet, stillness, even a sunrise I wouldn’t normally see. I wouldn’t have chosen this new schedule, but it’s reminding me that life doesn’t stop just because mine has slowed down.

    Gratitude, Even from a Grouch

    And here’s the part I didn’t expect: gratitude still sneaks in. I’m grateful for naps that give me a little reset. I’m grateful for friends who reach out, who show up, who keep me connected even when I feel like hibernating. I’m deeply grateful for my husband, whose steady support is a constant in all of this — helping, encouraging, and reminding me I’m not doing this alone. And I’m grateful for the odd, quiet moments that remind me there’s still light in the middle of all this mess.

    One Week Down

    So that’s one week in. My mouth is a disaster, my energy is unreliable, and my mood is… let’s just say “salty.” But I’ve also got support, humor, and small reasons to be thankful. And maybe that’s what I’ve learned most this week: it’s not about pretending to be positive — it’s about noticing what’s still here, even when so much feels hard.

    If you’ve read this far, maybe take a moment and think about the small things keeping you going right now — the unexpected comforts, the quiet gifts, the people who show up. Those are worth holding onto.

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