Like a lot of cancer patients I live from CT scan to CT scan. The last one was good. “I won’t need to see you again until the end of May,” my oncologist told me Thursday.
So right now, I’m not obsessing on mortality.
Not all CT scan results have been so positive. The worst one was back in October, the one that showed the cancer had metastasized. Along with feeling defeated, depressed and angry, I felt embarrassed. Three months before I had proudly announced on Facebook that after a long run of chemotherapy I was cancer free.
I was. But then it came back.
And then I wished I hadn’t been so bold in announcing my freedom from cancer since it turned out to be premature. It’s harder to announce bad news than good. What was I supposed to tell the world now? “Nevermind”? I was too embarrassed to say anything, even to some of my closest friends and family members.
I have a genetic form of cancer that doesn’t always respond well to chemo. It’s pretty aggressive. Five years ago I might have been near the end of my road when the chemo didn’t kill it. Luckily, I have gotten just the right kind of sick at a time when immunotherapy is working wonders with my kind of genetic cancer. I’ve been on this new regimen of infusions for about three months now. So far so good. The cancer hasn’t spread. It hasn’t entirely gone away either; hence, the experience of living CT scan to CT scan.
But the last one was good. When the semester is over, Frank and I will reunite with our sons, daughters-in-law and grandkids. Spring is coming.