Message in a bottle.  I write tonight with a rare (these days) peace.  Last night I slept four unmedicated hours and today I went an equal four consecutive hours before the familiar cancer panic bile rose in my throat following a sail in St. John’s Bay on a small sailboat and the consumption of a yummy drink known as a “pain killer.”  And since alcohol I something I barely consume these days, a very carefree, fun, and certainly “pain free” indeed, Jodi emerged.  Think of it as my standing on the edge of the Titanic sans the whole iceberg bit moment  with a fabulous playlist blaring in my ears, six foot rolling seas, and a lot of West Indies wind in my face.

Yes, forgive me father for I have sinned. I confess, (I know several colleagues are faithful readers), I am writing from one of earth’s great white pigs.  But I must tell you… what a pretty pig she is! Don’t fret, I toured the engine room – it is immaculate and the oil record book complete. And my beloved compliance program seemingly in full force and effect and taken very seriously by all the crew I “tested.”  The poor chief engineer may never recover from our little chat but…just kidding.  Sort of.

These past days have been a terrific a chance for a  husband and wife (not Jason and Jodi and certainly not caretaker and sick) to let loose, have fun, and connect. My beautiful long haired boy who I loved first.  But you have certainly made up for it, having swept me away every moment that counted since, haven’t you?  For the first time in a long time I saw reminders of my “normal” past and thus glimpses of a “normal” future.  I can’t describe how good that felt.  Gentle winds and a spectacular voyage we have had, no?  You are my sweetest joy.

Message in a bottle.  If I speak, will my message  wash up on some lovely shore and resonate with the intensity that it originates from inside my heart?

I had the great fortune to run into an old and very dear friend on the trip.  AUNT LOIS!!!  Beautiful, wonderful, kind, special Aunt Lois (and Harris too!).  We spent quite a bit of time together catching up and talking and I must tell you that she (no surprise) got right to the heart of it in no time and had me feeling better than I felt on several other much more expensive couches these past months. The Akiba magic spans my lifetime and it has not changed.  The friends I made as a child in the Poconos have rallied around me in such a meaningful way.  This is what they mean when they say…friends for life.  Thank you Aunt Lois for such powerful healing medicine! I am counting the days until we all get together in September.

And for the third time in the short time I have kept this blog, my thoughts tonight are captivated by the bilateral mastectomies for two of my dear friends.  Although for one, the surgery was prophylactic, it doesn’t make the experience any easier.   I am sending so much love and many hugs to her as she gets “revised” today.  And my Lou, well, I’m hoping with all my might that  her recovery is “easy,” after all – I know exactly what she is to endure, that she too is spared (the early news is awesome!) and for all three of us…conversation soon returns to anything but the abject horror faced by the dearest friends you could ever imagine.

My real message tonight is to my boys.  Although we are having a glorious time, I am missing them.  A message to my little boys whom I have had the chance to reflect on the impact of cancer on their lives. They are so young and magnificently innocent to have walked this road.  And I know, however well adjusted they are, they have endured much in the past eight months, the impact of which I may not ever understand.  These sweet souls who were entrusted to my care, who have shown maturity and spunk well beyond their years as they continued to thrive in school, be easy going and dear to their friends, understanding, and accepting at home.  Where I see my flaws in handling this crisis, they seem to just take it in stride.  They give me the love of a lifetime.  I just think they are individually and collectively the nicest little mensch’s in the world.  No mother could be more proud.

Message in a bottle.  Living beats cancer in a knockout.  I hate with everything I am that any of us has to endure this battle, but more than the fear, the pain, or the reality – I believe in us and believe that our brave course means we will one day, a long long time from now, smash the bottle on some beautiful unknown shore having left cancer permanently behind.

Much love,

jodi alison