May The Odds Be Ever In My Favor!

Last week, I got my first tattoo.

I've thought about the hypothetical tattoo for a long time -- what I would get, where it would be -- but I never imagined I would get this tattoo.

Last week, I got a dot on my chest. That's it. A tiny little dot.

If you ever watched Friends, then you might recall the episode where Phoebe decides to get a tattoo and then chickens out after the needle touches her, leaving her with one tiny dot. She went on to describe the tattoo as "the earth as seen from a great great distance."

So like Phoebe, I got a tattoo of the earth as seen from a great great distance. Unlike Phoebe, I didn't end up with a freckle size tattoo because I chickened out at the sight of the needle.

My tattoo, my freckle size dot, was not done by a tattoo artist, but by my radiologist.

My tattoo is a marker for my radiation therapy, which I start today.

After much soul searching, research, and second opinions, I finally settled on the decision. A difficult decision for a girl that always tries to come up with the right answer and is in a situation where there is no "right" answer.

This time around, I didn't get the 85% survival talk. This time, I wasn't told I had the "easy" cancer. This time, I was simply told to make a decision and hope for the best.

So that's what I'm doing. In a shitty situation, where the odds are no longer in my favor, I am hoping for the best with my decision.

For the next 4 weeks, I will spend every morning getting radiation. Personally, I'd rather get my morning jolt from a cup of coffee than a set of laser beams, but honestly, I believe it's better than the alternatives.

Come hell or high water, I'm determined to get rid of Little Hodgy.

And maybe then, I can appreciate my worldly tattoo.

Fill in the Blank.

I'm having a hard time writing this time around. I feel defeated. I've started writing three different posts but can never find the words to finish.

The first time I went through this, I took a risk and took control of my treatment plan. It was unique. It was revolutionary. It was _________.

I was called things like Brave. An Inspiration. A Warrior.

Honestly, I feel like a failure.

The first time around I wanted to write. It was therapeutic. Not only was it my way of sharing my story with friends and family, but it became my way of digesting what I was going through. It was my way of coping.

But now, it seems as if there are no words. 

Maybe it's tough because there was a "first time". When I was diagnosed with cancer, I didn't think it would be for the first time. I certainly never thought I'd have to deal with this a "second time."

And shit, please don't let there be a third time.

This time, I'm tired of stealing the thunder.

I think that maybe I'm at a loss for words because I'm at a loss of what to do. I've consulted with 6 different doctors and received as many different opinions. I'm grasping for someone (anyone!) to tell me what to do. I partially expect God to come to me in my sleep and proclaim, "This is the answer!"

This has yet to happen.

So for now, I'm being left to trust my gut and tell the world again what I’m going to do—what my decision will be…this time.

But even my conviction – much like my words -- seems to be missing.

So that decision, THE DECISION, my friends, is for another post at another time.

A time when, hopefully, I can find my words.

Why Worry When You Can Panic?

Here we go again. The researching, the questioning, the attempt to make a decision.

I feel like I am back at square one. Back at the beginning.

But I feel a surprising calm. A lack of panic. This is how I know this is not square one. I've been through this already. I've already tasted success.

The Hubby once read a profound quote on a bathroom stall of a bar: "Why worry when you can panic?"

He immediately thought of me. I am a worrier. I always have been.

Right now, I have every reason to not only worry, but to panic.

What if I make the wrong decision? What if people judge me? What if I lose my hair and am ugly? What if I get so sick I can't get out of bed? What if I never get rid of the Cancer? What if I die?

But I am calm. I've already worried about all of those things.

Right now, I want options.

Last week I met with my oncologist in Detroit to hear his options. I rejected his option in the past and was nervous to hear what he had to say.

Yes, I worried.

What if he hates me for seeing someone else? What if he refuses to treat me? What if he judges me and yells at me?

After going over my scans (which is much better off than my original scan from November - no major tumor, just infected lymph nodes), he gave me two options:

1) Radiation only. The cancer hasn't spread and is in the identical spot so there is a small chance (10%) that radiation alone will cure me. It's unlikely, but if it works, I will have "hit the jackpot" (his words, not mine). I would receive radiation every day for 2-3 weeks and hope for the best.

2) High Dose Chemotherapy followed by a Bone Marrow Transplant. This process involves using regular chemo to put me in remission, take out healthy bone marrow, freeze it and then give my chemo at such high doses that it kills EVERYTHING. It does so much destruction that my body can't recover on it's own. After this process, they put back my healthy marrow and hope it regrows in my body, creating a "healthy" environment. This is about a 5 month process requiring a 1-2 month stay in the hospital. This has a 60% chance of working.

These options are not ideal. The best case he is giving me leaves me with a 60% cure rate.

But oddly enough, I still don't panic.

These statistics don't apply to me. These statistics are for people who did conventional chemo and it failed to work. These statistics are for people who never responded to the drugs. These statistics are for people whose cancer is so powerful not even blasting their body with drugs could get rid of it.

There are no statistics for my situation. Most don't toe the line between alternative and conventional medicine - truly open to both and just wanting to find the best cure. Most people heavily lean in one direction or the other. The passion people feel about medicine is similar to the passion felt for politics. You pick your side and stick with it. Being stubbornly liberal, I understand that sentiment.

But with medicine, I toe the line. Classic middle child syndrome, I guess. Indecisive and noncommittal.

I'm not sure which treatment path I'll choose, but I do know that I'm not thrilled with the options presented to me. 60% cure rate plus a host of terrible side effects just doesn't seem good enough.

My plan? Head to DC for a couple weeks to meet with everyone from chinese medicine doctors to oncologists at John Hopkins in hopes of finding a treatment plan I can get on board with.

And in the meantime? I'll try not to panic.

THE DECISION

Remember when Lebron James, a.k.a. “King James” made a mockery of all of us with his quest for the right team...with his fucking Decision? Sorry, I mean, THE Decision.

Well, researching cancer treatments, for me at least, has felt like a similar quest (minus demanding an hour long news special announcing the final verdict).  But This Decision isn’t really one I want (although ESPN, feel free to cover this if you're so inclined).

No, This Decision blows. It's a full time job, and not the one you want, but the one you're forced to take.  And, no one is giving me 15 million dollars for my decision.

Actually, it truly has become my full time job. Sadly, I recently stopped working so that I could focus fully on getting healthier. This wasn't something I planned on. It’s not like I got Cancer and said, "hey Little Hodgy, let’s stop working."  Even Hodgy knows this girl loves me some new shoes. But my treatment plan just leaves no time for work. At least not right now.

So after weeks of searching for the right treatment plan, deciding on the plan, and then changing my mind about the plan, I finally made THE Decision (I think).

I've actually made several "final" decisions already so until I start the actual treatment, there's no guarantee I won't change my mind again (sorry Hubby, I'm indecisive until I'm not. You dated me, you should know!)

But I feel confident that this is it. So confident in fact, that, “dunt-dunt-duh!”  I'm announcing THE Decision to all of you.  After endless hours of researching and countless emails and phone calls, I've decided to take my talents and head to...ARIZONA! To a treatment center called An Oasis of Healing.

I ultimately decided on An Oasis of Healing because it focuses on an integrative approach to getting rid of cancer. Rather than just poisoning my cells with chemo, I'm taking a gentler approach for my body. As I've mentioned before, chemotherapy leads to a host of short and long term side effects, including fatigue, infertility, thyroid malfunction, heart problems, and other more serious cancers.

At An Oasis of Healing, I'll be receiving Insulin Potentiation Therapy (IPT). This is a low dose chemo that uses insulin to direct the drugs directly to the cancer cells. This allows the chemo to keep most of the healthy cells intact and reduces most of the side effects of conventional therapy. In addition, I will participate in other complimentary therapies such as yoga, nutrition, supplements, and if I'm lucky, courtside tickets to a Phoenix Suns game (Hey, I girl can dream can't she? Did I mention I have cancer?).

The goal at An Oasis of Healing is to not just get rid of the cancer, but to learn how to keep it away. Kind of important when you're only 28 and promised The Hubby you'd live to be 94.

When I asked my oncologist about IPT, not surprisingly he told me he wouldn't do it because "it may be dangerous." Last I checked, chemo wasn't exactly safe.

So am I taking a risk by going against my oncologists advice? Absolutely. Just like Lebron took a risk in alienating all his fans and pissing off the rest of the world. But it is THE risk That I, Cancer Girl a.k.a. The Thunder Stealer -- need to take. Otherwise, 5 years from now I could end up with breast cancer from the radiation and I would hate myself for not at least trying a different route. And maybe Lebron felt the same way. It may be the unconventional road, but sometimes you just have to take it to avoid your own "what ifs."

Will a lot of people think I'm crazy for going against the doctor's advice? I'm sure of it. Like Lebron, I'm sure that I too will have angry fans pissed at me for switching directions and going against what's been comfortable for us all. This team works. Why risk switching to another? But also, like Lebron, it's MY decision.

In fact, You can google alternative medicine, including IPT, and will get hundreds of negative articles to confirm my so called insanity. FYI, I've read them all, so please don't flood my inbox with hate mail. Unlike Lebron, I can't handle the negativity.

But at the end of the day, I have to be the only one that is comfortable with my decision. And this is THE Decision I believe in.

Hey Arizona, You Win!  The Thunder Stealer is Coming Your Way!

Someone tell ESPN I'm ready for my close up.