Journal entry by Julie Griffith —
Whac-A-Mole is an arcade game. It was created in 1975 by the amusements manufacturer TOGO in Japan, where it was originally known as Mogura Taiji (モグラ退治, "Mole Buster") or Mogura Tataki (モグラたたき, "Mole Smash").
A typical Whac-A-Mole machine consists of a waist-level cabinet with a play area and display screen, and a large, soft mallet. Five to eight holes in the play area top are filled with small, plastic, cartoonish moles, or other characters, which pop up at random. Points are scored by, as the name suggests, whacking each mole as it appears. The faster the reaction, the higher the score. In my case, whacking each tumor as it appears.
It's been two years since I last poured my thoughts onto these pages, and yet here I am again, grappling with the relentless presence of cancer in my life. As I approach the six-year mark since my diagnosis, it's hard not to reflect on the tumultuous "journey" (really hate that word) I've been on.
Cancer, it seems, is playing an endless game of whack-a-mole with my body. Just when I think I've gained some ground, it resurfaces in new places, spreading its reach to my lungs again and now the adrenal gland...not good. However, the good news is the liver is clear. It's a devastating blow, and one that weighs heavily on my mind as I once again find myself navigating the unmapped territory of chemotherapy (I've had over 100 rounds... we, the docs and I have stopped counting).
The physical toll is undeniable, each treatment bringing its own set of challenges and side effects. Yet, it's the emotional rollercoaster that proves to be the most daunting at times. The constant uncertainty - I'm not going to lie, it's a heavy burden to bear.
But amidst the darkness, there's a flicker of hope that refuses to be extinguished. It's the support of loved ones - my TRIBE - my family, friends, friends of friends, my work (Boulder Country Day School) community, the unwavering dedication of my medical team, strangers I meet in the infusion room, prayer, etc., and the resilience that I've somehow managed to summon from within - I refuse to to let this chronic, horrible disease win.
So, as I embark on this latest chapter, I hold onto that hope with all the strength I can muster. I may be faced with yet another round in this battle against cancer, but I refuse to let it define me. I am a warrior, and I will continue to fight, one day at a time. I AM alive. I continue to slay the dragon.
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