What a challenge to explain or even comprehend what is considered good news in this situation, when everything is volatile, vulnerable, unknown (sorry I couldn't complete the alliteration).
It is a relief to know the chemo is working. An amazing relief. On June 14 Dr. Fox gave me 40% odds that this chemo would be effective at fighting the evil cells in my liver, and now he's certain of its success. In two weeks I've gone from far abnormally high bilirubin in my liver, to the discovery last week that my coloring was no longer looking jaundiced at all. This week he was eager to show me how the bilirubin numbers had changed, and that now my level is good normal. I had been watching my body's signs, and was pleased but not surprised. I feel better every single day. I feel stronger, I walk farther, I eat better. I can't feel the tumor lumps so strongly in my abdomen. I have exceeded all expectations. It buys me potential, which I need more than anything right now. If I do this, my body will do that. So far, so good.
However, it doesn't erase the fear. I have a good chance of going into remission, but that could last anywhere from 6 weeks to 10 years. It will be followed by another fight, then another, until my body gives up. At some point in the not distant enough future I will die of cancer, in pain. The upcoming milestones never leave me: Allison's high school graduation, Jason's high school graduation, Jonah's bar mitzvah, two college graduations, then another high school and another college. The big prizes: the weddings, the grandchildren.
How much can I effect with stellar treatment of my body and mind? I am so greedy for these milestones. I need a center, and I'm hoping I can conjure more faith. My logical brain could ruin this entire process if I can't get it to shut the hell up. I have lots of work to do.
Well, at this point improvement means a small surgery to insert a port to help with indefinite chemo treatments. Thank goodness! No more IVs. And I am confident we'll make it for our first milestone: a family cruise we've booked for December.
Shout outs to so many of you for so many things, including a special one for Ira's big bowl of candy that was picked at enough before reaching my house that it still makes me laugh. Thanks to all of you for the outpouring of love and support that always makes me/us feel so blessed. And to Ken, who has become the perfect breast cancer husband without even reading the book.
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1 comment:
Michelle,
I'm so glad you are doing "better". I know that I will be on-edge with my mom, making sure that she gets checked out, and doesn't ignore any new symptoms in the months/years to come. She just had a colostomy reversal on the 15th and is recovering at home. I don't think I will ever say that it is "gone", but will hope that it is.
My words aren't coming out great, but I just wanted to let you know I'm thinking about you. {{{hugs}}}
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