Good news... Got a great bill of health at my 3-month follow-up appointment with my oncologist Dr. Wendt on Friday! Oh yeah, I'm healthy, oh yeah, I feel good (can you see my accompanying dance to this ditty?).
Cute Dr. Wendt in his causal Friday dark denim asked all the usual questions, things like "are you coughing up blood or mucus?" and "do you have pain or stinging when urinating?" Thank God I can still answer no to them all. Shit, I'd be on his doorstep in a New York minute if I were coughing up blood, right? So he does his battery of physical tests including thumping on my back to listen to my lungs, pushing deep into my stomach to feel whatever he thinks he needs to feel in there, and scrunching into my collarbone to feel the lymph nodes that reside at the base of my neck (and would be the runners up to cancer after the ones in my armpit which they removed). I ask him every time "you would tell me if you see anything weird, right?". To which he again explains that we are on the same team, and that yes, he would tell me if he found anything unusual. Ok, I just need to hear that.
I am still waiting on my blood test results, which are routine, but I forgot to go have them done before my appointment. oops. I need a handler, or a calendar, or something to keep me better on track. I'm not thinking about cancer every second anymore. I've got big things to tackle like what to bring for snack to Fisher's preschool tomorrow- and yes, the kids love me for bringing apples with carmel dip. So I'll be sure to let you know the results when those tests come back later this week.
And get this. Nick probed until Dr. Wendt said that "he does not expect the cancer to come back." Really? I've always expected the exact opposite. That's what all my freaking out is about. He truly thinks that I'm not only going to survive this thing, but that he doesn't expect it to rear it's ugly head again. I'm still not able to grasp this. I was Stage 3, with five Grade 3 tumors. The notion that I could very well be done with cancer is something I have a hard time believing. Don't get me wrong, I want to believe it with every cell in my body, but it feels like a big fat lie. I truly think this one is going to take time to absorb. I love the idea, but I just don't trust it, not yet anyway.
Oh, and if you read my last post about Adrienne, I'm happy to report that we have connected and have even become Facebook friends. Look at me, Facebook girl. She's done with chemo but has her big surgery ahead of her and I think she could use some renewed strength. So for those out there who pray, would you mind adding her to your docket? And, if you remember my friend Gabbee in Florence (Arizona not Italy), a big shout out to her on her last day of Taxol today, yippee! Now that's a milestone really worth celebrating. Lastly, Wimberly, who has handled this cancer thing with the greatest of ease, is flying through radiation with a gorgeous new head of hair that's growing back fast and furious. That light at the end of the tunnel just keeps getting brighter and brighter.
I think that's it for tonight. I've got 27 five-year-olds to wrangle tomorrow as parent participator, on rodeo cowboy day, none-the-less. How could I ever fit cancer back into a busy schedule like that? I think I'm beginning, just beginning, to trust that new, hopeful, beautiful idea.