Treatment #5 & 6

I rocked treatment #5 and yesterday #6. The week of my fifth treatment, the Providence Cancer Center had just opened a brand new eleventh floor dedicated to infusions and treatment and it is beautiful! I am so happy to be treated in such a clean and state of the art facility. Aesthetics make a world of difference for my well being, especially in a place where I spend so much time filled with stress and worry. My days are long there, typically 6-8 hours. 

Kicking ass and taking names.

Two hands!

Next steps: my PET scan is scheduled for the morning of the 16th with results discussed at my treatment #7 appointment on the 18th. I asked Dr. Godwin how people manage the wait time between having the scan and getting results. He called it “scanxiety” and reminded me of his doctors orders to worry/cry for 5-10 minutes, once in the morning and again at night and then move on. No sense in wasting a good day full of worry. I can do that, or at least try my best. Yesterday I met with a different oncologist who was also hopeful for clean scan results based off her external exam of my neck. I’m trying not to invest too much excitement in these physical exams. But it does offer some hope.

A little (ok, fine, big) piece of joy in my life has been the return of Fall TV! I was instantly hooked to ABC’s new show, A Million Little Things, especially the character with cancer. This fictional friend said something that so closely resonated with me and my looming upcoming scan. 

“Let me be very clear. First of all, God didn't cure my cancer; science did. Secondly, it's not that I don't have cancer. It's that I don't have cancer right now. The all-clear screening I got this week just gives me permission to hold my breath for another three months. Hurray for me.”

It’s something I’ve heard other real life warriors speak about. For the rest of our lives we will lose countless hours of sleep over the wonder and worry of, will it come back? No doctor can promise me that. While chatting with a stranger recently, she shared that she was once offered a prayer of perspective. The priest said “let us pray for those who’ve never had a life changing diagnosis. For they don’t know what it’s like to wake up each day truly grateful for that day.” The point takes me back to my cliche statement from my first journal post. You can’t possibly value each day until your faced with the possibility of imminent death. I can’t even remember my life before my diagnosis and this illness has only been on my radar since April. Be grateful for every day, people. Find the good in each day, even those seemingly bad ones.

Overall, I’m feeling pretty good. I caught one of the kids colds, but this strong ass body of mine has somehow managed to keep it at bay and it does seem to be getting better. Hard to believe seeing that my blood cell counts have been almost the lowest they possibly can be. My body has not let me down yet. Treatment #5 was a little harder to bounce back from, I felt just a little more tired than the treatments before, but I try to stay active and maintain my normal routines, with my mom’s help of course. A special shout out to our dear friend’s VP Mary, Kali, & Steph who have hired housecleaners to take the stress of chores off of me. This entire treatment I haven’t had to scrub a toilet once. And so many generous donated meals have been shared at our kitchen table. Thank you all, I am forever grateful. I start to cry just thinking about it all. 

I am hopeful and optimistic and head into the uncertainty with the same brave outlook I’ve tried to carry this entire time. Many days I feel that I am larger than life itself, and I’m not talking about my steroid bloat. 

Please keep me in your hearts, thoughts, prayers, vibes, juju, whatever you’ve got in you to give me that clean pet scan!!

I GOT THIS!!

xoxo

J