Cancer TAKES so much.  Like the feeling in your fingers and toes.   OH right, that is what chemotherapy TAKES while it GIVES you life.  That and your hair, sense of humor, emotional stability, short term memory (ie, knowing the pin while standing at the ATM…yes, I suppose it is possible that Jason changed it as a as a joke or other attempt to stop me from redecorating our house which is what I am doing while otherwise being a non-working under-achieving blob), waistline, taste, nails – do you need me to go on?  Tonight, though it took my ability to TAKE my kids out for Halloween.  Rat bastard.  The unmitigated gall.   I tried so hard to rally all day and push through to GIVE my boys the normalcy they so deserve.  I clenched my fists so tight that the already thin and peeling skin bled, as I contemplated, maybe the clammy sweat building on my face would look like part of a costume.  I joked all day when asked, I dressed up as a cancer patient.  How glamorous.  Then again, when a retail saleswoman wouldn’t do as my mother asked, I tried to knock her off her guard by asking if I could have her beautiful hair (you healthy people are so easy to make uncomfortable).  I found this picture on my camera yesterday…it was from August after preemptively cutting off a foot of hair for Locks of Love and surviving my first chemo. It isn’t a very “good” picture.  The rest of my hair was already rapidly falling out but I can’t help but notice how genuinely happy we are.  My boys, my precious boys and our family.  “My” illness is theirs too.  So much GIVE and TAKE.  By my count, 12 of us were “diagnosed” that day. Too much GIVE and TAKE.

I watched the last of the BC Awareness Month Lifetime movies.  They were emotional but good.  Five, The Education of Dee Dee Ricks, and Living Proof to name a few.  Living Proof, the story of the development and bringing to market of Herceptin was both the best and the hardest to watch.  Even ten years ago, my story might have – like would have – been very different.  An extraordinarily uncomfortable thought.  Some of the key players in the development of the drug are my doctors and it was fascinating to see their portrayal.    That said, how hopeful, because I know with certainty that each day brings advancements and cure making it possible for me to GIVE my faith and TAKE confidence in my future.

I joked in my last post that was desperately seeking my mojo and someone very kindly replied, that mojo isn’t something someone can TAKE from you, and that mine still skulked around.  Here is the thing, Cancer isn’t a someone, it is a true terrorist of the mind, body, and soul.  Pretty powerful stuff, you literally need to be a member of the Justice League or some other superhero to escape unscathed.  I know, I know, I’m scathed but not beyond repair…even if my “mo” hasn’t reunited with me, “jo” quite yet.  Yes, I plan to GIVE the terrorist hell all my remaining days.  In the meantime, I up the offered reward, if you see mo or jo…TAKE them and send them my way.

I am continuing to GIVE energy to my research and education of Cancer, and feel that as my own best advocate I am right to be diligently reviewing every lab, every result, every recommendation, every scan, pathology report at this time…It is a different, though equally as painful, read five months in and while I’m grateful I had the where with all to make the decisions we’ve made to this point, I find myself asking new, equally difficult questions as I near the “end” of the hardest part of my treatment.  For example, how soon can you take my ovaries out (yes, if you know anything about me, that is possibly the saddest and single most ironic statement to ever leave my cyber-lips), which hormone therapy is right and best, and are you absolutely positively certain I don’t need radiation – how big a clean margin is enough?  What I mean is that I am preparing my list of renewed questions to ensure I understand every single everything, every implication.  I can not control what what I can not control, but I refuse to be a bystander in my and my family’s future.  Gotta feel for my poor dream team of doctors – but every word is going to be reviewed together.  I’m prepared to GIVE in and jump off this next cliff with faith and confidence but you better bet that I’m taking the best parachute made and I’m stacking the odds that it opens correctly.

Bottom line is that Cancer tried to TAKE my life.  I say FUCK YOU Cancer, times up – I’m taking it back.  I originally said I would GIVE you a year, I have changed my mind, we are done negotiating, fear doesn’t equate failure, and I am moving forward.

OH, and by the way, this is the last post you will see me capitalize the word Cancer.   When I next post, a huge milestone will have been met.   Hello November!    I’ve been waiting patiently for you, I’m glad you are here, we have things to GIVE…and TAKE.

Much love,

jodi alison