I need a break from the word ‘Cancer.’ .. I am officially changing the name of it in my world and calling it Rodger the Dodger, instead.  (No offence to anyone called Rodger,) I just need to elevate my mood from doom.) Because the last 7 days of my life have been transformed by the word cancer, and now I am taking back control. So, screw you, Rodger, the Dodger, you will not win! I just need a little comic relief in what’s otherwise a tragically unfunny script.

Here’s the deal: the last seven days have been sponsored by the C-word. It’s been everywhere. In my sleep, in my morning brews (I say brews, cos it takes me two to even wake up in the mornings), possibly even in my shampoo. Enough is enough! If I’m going to have an unwanted guest, the least I can do is give it a name that sounds like a washed-up 70s porn star, not a term from the medical drama, ER.

The best part about Rodger the Dodger? Unlike actual Rodgers (who are probably lovely), this one thinks he’s clever, sneaking around, trying to mess up my week. Joke’s on him, though. I’ve got a sense of humour, a support squad, and a stubborn streak that makes Rodger look like a rookie. Seriously, if there’s an Olympic event for dodging doom, I’m going for gold.

So here’s my new mantra: Screw you, Rodger, the Dodger. You may have gatecrashed our lives, but you don’t get to win. Not today, not ever.

And if you ever spot me having a friendly chat with an imaginary Rodger in the supermarket, just smile and know I’m doing what works for me. Sometimes a little silliness goes a long way. The one thing I have learned from this is this: we are stronger than we think, and when we need to be, the strength shows up. Just rest when you can. Nana naps help. I guarantee it.

P.S. God is with me; He probably thinks Rodger’s a bit of an idiot, too.