C is for Cure

Yesterday I had an appointment with my oncologist to review my most recent test results.  The CT scan I had a few days ago marked 4 years NED (no evidence of disease).  Results were good - nothing on the scan, tumor marker fine - though a liver enzyme was slightly high.  I'll repeat blood work in a couple weeks and hope it reports normally.

So, one more year.  Then I'll have the same risk as anyone else to get cancer.  I'll come off survivorship maintenance.  Well, still a happy colonoscopy every 3 years, but I think the other routine blood work and scans will stop.  I hope they stop.  I'm still a needlephobe and that contrast stuff feels weird.

In other news, I've started training early for my next Jimmy Fund Walk.  This year is "your way" thanks to COVID-19 and I am still figuring out a marathon-length route.  I revisited my alphabet and realized I had never walked a letter C.  So I walked one.  And then I found the great big C that I did in fact walk last summer but did not tell most of y'all about.  Here are 2 letter C's.  C is for Cure.  Just 8 more letters in my alphabet!

We Are All Cancer Survivors Now

During these last few unprecedented weeks, a familiar feeling has been nagging at me. 

I am reminded of my treatment year, when we were so very careful to keep germs away from me, and me away from germs.  I was immunocompromised then, so much so that I had that super-expensive injection to keep my white blood cell count up.  On the days I went to work, I used the bottle of hand sanitizer on my desk as soon as I got in; that same bottle is still on my desk, nearly empty, and all alone in my empty office.

I am reminded of the days in between my every-six-months scan and the followup appointment with my oncologist when scanxiety runs rampant. 

I am reminded how in the years since treatment and my last surgeries, no matter how long it has been or how good the current prognosis, even the tiniest new twinge or strange sensation in my belly convinces me that It Is Back.

And now, I can welcome you all to this state of mind.  Now that we are all (hopefully) staying at home most of the time, and riding out these very strange days, you may have an inkling of what it feels like to be a cancer survivor, as you over-analyze every cough and ache and pain and wonder, do I have It?  Will I end up in the hospital?  Will I survive?

Welcome to my world.  It's nice to see you.

Number of the day is 5 (and letter is W)

I've just registered for Jimmy Fund Walk number 5!  I remember the first time I walked, in 2016 - about 5 months post-treatment, sporting ostomy #2, for a half-marathon distance.  Since then I have walked 3 marathons, each one a little easier than the last.  I'm excited to participate again to celebrate winning my fight and to support everyone else who has had to face the challenge that is cancer.

I welcome your support, financial or otherwise.  Thank you!
http://danafarber.jimmyfund.org/goto/eemthomas