On Thursday, I got my first haircut of 2009.

The adage "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" has never been more relevant to me.

It's been six weeks since my last visit to Columbia Basin Hematology and Oncology at the Tri-Cities Cancer Center. This means it was time to get my port flushed.

Last week marked the one-year anniversary of me waking up with a broken rib for no apparent reason. Of course, in the three weeks that followed, the pain in my left side led to the discovery that I actually had stage-four lymphoma.

The Tri-City Herald is putting together a page of advertising that will feature the Tri-Cities Cancer Center and will promote breast cancer awareness.

Thursday was nervous time. I was to find out the results of my first set of tests after being declared cancer free. I had a CT scan a few weeks ago and a PET about two weeks ago.

Last week, I got my first PET scan. Since I woke up with a broken rib nearly a year ago - the way I discovered I had lymphoma - I've had five CAT (CT) scans.

It's been three months since my NED (no evidence of disease) ruling, which means it's time to make sure everything is still cancer-free.

Prior to my cancer diagnosis last fall, I was a regular at Mike Dean's office. He's been my dentist for the past 15 years, and I have gone in four times a year for cleanings and other fun adventures.

One side effect of chemotherapy is called peripheral neuropathy, which can cause a number of issues, from constipation to numbness. In my case, I have experienced a bit of numbness on a couple of my toes.

Right now, I cannot stomach the thought of watching Sideways, the Oscar-nominated wine-tasting buddy movie.

While I sat through a meeting yesterday, I thought I could feel cancerous tumors growing in my neck.

Memorial Day weekend has taken on a new meaning for me. I will forever remember it as the weekend my friend Nathan passed away, losing his battle with leukemia.

For the rest of what I presume to be a lengthy life, I will forever think about the past six months, the half-year during which I fought for my life - and won.

When I was diagnosed with lymphoma back in November, my wife, Melissa, and I made sure we did the best job we could to explain everything to our 5-year-old daughter. Melissa did a great job of explaining that "Daddy has germs called cancer," which meant she should be using hand sanitizer and not coughing on me.

My sixth chemotherapy treatment was March 31. I hoped it would be my last, but that would depend on what the CT scan I'd get in late April would show - and what Dr. Rado at Columbia Basin Hematology and Oncology would say at my appointment five days later.

Three days after my first chemotherapy treatment back in December, I noticed a particularly rank odor emanating from the general area of my armpits. It was something like I remember from my junior high locker room, or it possibly was similar to what a sasquatch might smell like.

Two of the real jewels in our community are the Tri-Cities Cancer Center in Kennewick and Leadership Tri-Cities, a program that began in 1995.

On Feb. 17, I was at the Tri-Cities Cancer Center in Kennewick for my fourth chemotherapy treatment. More importantly, I was about to find out the results of my third CT scan.

Wine, it would seem, has so many health benefits.

Imagine being able to diagnose cancer with a drop of blood.

I arrived in the Tri-Cities some two decades ago. Back then, I was a just-out-of-college copy editor who was full of energy — and himself.

This morning, I awoke at 2. I had to use the bathroom, then I couldn't get back to sleep. This has become normal in the days after chemotherapy. Having caustic chemicals pumped into your chest has a strange effect on your body, things I didn't necessarily expect - but now take as normal.

As you may know from the fairly extensive advertising campaigns, March was Colon Cancer Awareness Month. As a guy with lymphoma who has been taking some very heavy doses of chemotherapy drugs since December, I have been curious if I need to be screened for colon cancer.

With much fanfare, the Tri-Cities Cancer Center opened its new wing earlier this month. I was one of the first to see the new area when I received chemotherapy nearly three weeks ago.

Seventeen months ago, my wife and I adopted our daughter, a beautiful little girl - now 5 - from the South Indian city of Chennai.

As you perhaps recall, a broken rib led to my discovery of cancer. As the doctors explained it to me, my cancerous lymph nodes weakened one of my ribs, ultimately leading to a hairline fracture.

I am really lousy at sending cards. I don't think I will be anymore.

Japanese scientists have discovered an enzyme that could suppress breast cancer, according to this article by Reuters.

I am not one to try to use my misfortune of having cancer to my advantage, but I have found an occasional benefit to my condition.

Non-Hodgkin's lymphoma - what I have - is a cancer in white blood cells, particularly lymphocytes. A way to battle this cancer is to temporarily kill off the body's white blood cells using chemotherapy, thus stopping the cancer.

Chemotherapy is not fun, and the chemo room is not a place most folks want to be because there's nothing like having toxic chemicals pumped into your body to give you a bad attitude. So it takes a special person to be an oncology nurse.

According to this article in Wired magazine, early detection of cancer is more important than finding a cure.

When facing cancer, I've learned you look for every angle, every bit of hope, every sign that everything will be all right.

The day after my first chemotherapy, I began to understand why cancer treatment can be so grueling.

Friday, Dec. 12, is a day I won't soon forget. It was my first chemotherapy treatment at the Tri-Cities Cancer Center.

Through the first 44 years of my life, the week of Dec. 8 pretty much goes down as the worst I've experienced.

How, exactly, do you tell a loved one you have cancer? Here's hoping you never find out because it isn't easy.

For those who have never had to deal with cancer, the Tri-Cities Cancer Center has probably been little more than another building in Kennewick. But for those who have been touched by cancer - either in their own bodies or through a loved one - it is universally recognized as a gem in our community.

It was Nov. 12, the day I would find out what kind of cancer had invaded my body.

The day before Election Day, I was at Kadlec Medical Center in Richland. A doctor was going to remove two lymphnodes under my left armpit to see what was going on inside by body.

If not for a broken rib, it is likely I still would not know I have cancer.

Just as nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, I never expected cancer. I'm sure some people expect to be diagnosed with cancer, either because of a medical history in their family or work environment.