BOSTON -- After all these years and all those home runs -- 536 and still counting, at least for another three weeks -- everyone is well aware of David Ortiz's power.

But what about the power of Big Papi?

More than ever, Geoff Blanck can attest to that.

Blanck, 45, grew up in Weston, Massachusetts, a Boston suburb where Ortiz coincidentally resides. He graduated from nearby Babson Business School and lives with his wife and two daughters in Waterbury, Vermont. Blanck is a lifelong Boston Red Sox fan, old enough to have had his heart broken by Bucky Dent and to appreciate the significance of the 2004 World Series title while not taking 2007 and 2013 for granted.

So when Blanck went to the doctor in February with a persistent cough and walked out with a diagnosis of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, he did what only the most hardcore Red Sox loyalist would do. He began calling the baseball-sized tumor in his chest "Yankee" and the chair in which he would receive six rounds of chemotherapy "Big Papi."

Geoff Blanck was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma in February. Courtesy of Geoff Blanck

"I don't want to say I had to make levity of the situation, but I definitely had to have something distracting because I was going to some pretty dark places," Blanck said. "I immediately named the tumor 'Yankee' because I hate the Yankees. And then, when I got introduced to what treatment was going to be like, it seemed very fitting to name the chair 'Big Papi' because he's a Yankee killer."

The first round of chemo began March 21. Four and a half months later, Blanck had lost his hair but not his faith, because he passed time during many of his most draining treatments by sitting on "Big Papi" at the University of Vermont Medical Center and watching Ortiz wallop opposing pitchers in one of the greatest seasons ever by a 40-year-old slugger.

"Early in the season in April, when you've got a lot of day games, I was always sitting there watching the Red Sox," Blanck said. "The nurses, every day when I came in, they would put a sign up, a picture of Big Papi with a quote and tape it to my chair. I was always wearing one of my Red Sox shirts. So they all started getting into it as well. For those first several months, sitting there and reading about it and watching the Red Sox every afternoon when I was getting sicker and sicker, it was a relief. It was an awesome distraction all summer."

Blanck chronicled his fight on Facebook and his wife, Shalagh, kept a blog. At one point, Blanck wrote that he hopes somebody, "I'll be able to get one of those Big Papi hugs," that Ortiz has doled out to his Red Sox teammates since 2003.

It didn't happen Tuesday, although Blanck and his family got the next-best thing. Through friends, they were given tickets to the Red Sox game against the Baltimore Orioles and sat in box seats next to the dugout. They also were escorted onto the field before the game. While they didn't get to meet Ortiz, Geoff, Shalagh and their daughters Emma, 13, and Annecy, 11, took pictures in the dugout and were greeted by Red Sox president Sam Kennedy.

Blanck isn't out of the woods yet. Two weeks ago, his most recent scan revealed the tumor had decreased significantly in size but wasn't completely eradicated, preventing doctors from declaring him cancer-free until at least his next scan in November.

"It was a bit of a blow," said Blanck, who owns an overnight summer camp for boys and girls in upstate New York and recently started the Camper Survivorship Fund, which provides children who have been affected by cancer an opportunity to attend camp. "I'm as optimistic as anyone can be. It's a very curable cancer, and I'm hoping to get the good news in three months that we were hoping for last week."

In the meantime, Blanck will continue to watch the Red Sox -- and the actual Big Papi -- pursue another World Series title.

"Baseball is something that I've been able to rally around," Blanck said. "While I don't have the ending of this story, I'm cautiously optimistic. There would be nothing better than to celebrate a World Series title and then get a clean bill of health a month later. That would be pretty cool."