Today I returned to Sloan Kettering for my 7-month follow up appointment and monthly labs. Each month, as I go for blood work, I once again enter the waiting room - this month it was the physical waiting room of Sloan - but no matter where I am, the 24-hours leading up to the labs and the time I spend waiting for my results to appear on the patient portal, I am holding my breath.
Why do I hold my breath? I've been feeling great. My strength and hair have returned. In fact, I am sporting an ultra-long 3 inches of hair currently - which for a cancer survivor is an achievement, I assure you. I've been taking the stinking magnesium supplement that my mother frequently reminds me I should be taking (I have one of those geriatric large print pill sorters on my counter to keep me on task). But in spite of my steadily improving health, I still get a little antsy with the waiting...
Waiting in traffic to get into New York City...
Waiting with all the other patients to get in to see the doctor...
Waiting for my name to be called so I can schedule my next 2 months of lab work and my next appointment in 3 months...
Waiting in traffic to get out of New York City...
Waiting for my results to get posted online so I can finally stop WAITING!
You would think that by now the waiting would have gotten easier; and in a sense, it has. That's because I am no longer waiting for the other shoe to drop. That shoe hit the floor with a resounding thud last August and life has not been the same since. Now the waiting is just a little bit of a held breath. A little bit of reassuring myself that everything is fine - that if something were wrong I wouldn't be feeling this good. It's knowing that I am healthy, but just needing to see the numbers confirm it so I can release that breath and get back to normal, everyday life.
So, the numbers are in and they are good. I can happily say that I am now 7 months cancer-free. In fact, it felt so good to type it that I'll do it again. I AM SEVEN MONTHS CANCER-FREE! (clearly the all caps indicates my joyous, shout-it-from-the-rooftops declaration)
Now back to living and breathing and not letting little niggling doubts creep up and try to rob me of any of this victory. I celebrate my hair and all its returned cowlicks. I celebrate being able to squat and get up without muscle-fatigue causing me to crumple to the floor. I celebrate all of the things that cancer tried to rob me of but could not take from me. I celebrate getting through one more day of waiting.
Oh, and the real kicker in today's wait - after faithfully taking all of those stinking magnesium pills in my I-am-too-young-to-have-one-of-these pill sorters, they didn't even bother to check my magnesium levels today. One more thing to celebrate!
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Two Months Out
I can very happily say that I am two months post-chemo and feeling like my old self again. Actually, scratch that, my "old self" went through too much and has emerged as a new and improved self.
I have maintained an hcg level of ZERO, yep that right Z-E-R-O since January and I'm loving my cancer-free life! So, if I'm finally cancer-free how can I continue to blog under the heading "What to do while you wait?". I'm so glad asked, it's because for the next 3 years I will be in follow-up mode with my oncologist at Sloan Kettering. For the first year I go back once a month for labwork and a little chat, then we'll cut back to once every three months for the next two years. Now this waiting is altogether different from my prior waiting because each time I go I am not dreading the news, but it is waiting nonetheless.
In my last post I blogged about lessons I had learned. I am still learning new lessons everyday. My newest lesson is on bringing hard-won hope back to the very battleground I survived. With the help of a small group from my church, I will be returning to Sloan Kettering on my next follow-up appointment (March 6th) with a donation for the hospital. As a patient I came to see the great need for hope. Hope is imperative in the fight against cancer. So hope we will deliver. We're donating hope-filled, inspirational books, dvds, and other goodies such as board games, scarves, lotions, and encouraging notes to the patients, as well as thank-you notes for the nursing staff. I'm looking forward to walking back onto the 10th floor - when I left the last time it was in a wheelchair and with a walker to take home. I will get to present the items to the wonderful staff who made my time there bearable. In particular I am excited to visit the patients in the isolation rooms (where I spent quite a bit of time), bring them balloons, hope-in-a-jar (moisturizer from philosophy) and encourage them that if I could get through this, so can they.
I realized yesterday that in my next 3 years of waiting I have been given a unique opportunity to make hope-drops each time I go in for an appointment. As I wrote in earlier blogs, God entrusted me with a story I did not request, but now that being a cancer survivor is a part of my story I plan on sharing the hope that He gave me in the midst of it all.
Even as my body goes about the work of repairing itself and my hair grows back in, I do not want to forget what it was like to be in that place of extreme weakness. The place where I had no choice but to depend on God for strength to make it through each day.
My most challenging lesson yet may be to continue surrendering control of my life even though my strength is being restored. It's a good thing I trust my Teacher completely.
I have maintained an hcg level of ZERO, yep that right Z-E-R-O since January and I'm loving my cancer-free life! So, if I'm finally cancer-free how can I continue to blog under the heading "What to do while you wait?". I'm so glad asked, it's because for the next 3 years I will be in follow-up mode with my oncologist at Sloan Kettering. For the first year I go back once a month for labwork and a little chat, then we'll cut back to once every three months for the next two years. Now this waiting is altogether different from my prior waiting because each time I go I am not dreading the news, but it is waiting nonetheless.
In my last post I blogged about lessons I had learned. I am still learning new lessons everyday. My newest lesson is on bringing hard-won hope back to the very battleground I survived. With the help of a small group from my church, I will be returning to Sloan Kettering on my next follow-up appointment (March 6th) with a donation for the hospital. As a patient I came to see the great need for hope. Hope is imperative in the fight against cancer. So hope we will deliver. We're donating hope-filled, inspirational books, dvds, and other goodies such as board games, scarves, lotions, and encouraging notes to the patients, as well as thank-you notes for the nursing staff. I'm looking forward to walking back onto the 10th floor - when I left the last time it was in a wheelchair and with a walker to take home. I will get to present the items to the wonderful staff who made my time there bearable. In particular I am excited to visit the patients in the isolation rooms (where I spent quite a bit of time), bring them balloons, hope-in-a-jar (moisturizer from philosophy) and encourage them that if I could get through this, so can they.
I realized yesterday that in my next 3 years of waiting I have been given a unique opportunity to make hope-drops each time I go in for an appointment. As I wrote in earlier blogs, God entrusted me with a story I did not request, but now that being a cancer survivor is a part of my story I plan on sharing the hope that He gave me in the midst of it all.
Even as my body goes about the work of repairing itself and my hair grows back in, I do not want to forget what it was like to be in that place of extreme weakness. The place where I had no choice but to depend on God for strength to make it through each day.
My most challenging lesson yet may be to continue surrendering control of my life even though my strength is being restored. It's a good thing I trust my Teacher completely.
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