Monday, April 27th, 2009

Sam has flown in for Breslin’s baptism. She and Jackson take me to my CT scan today. I hate CT scans of the abdomen because you need to drink contrast dye. You are not allowed to eat for eight hours before the test so I have heartburn to begin with, then I am forced to chug copious amounts of nasty dye on a completely empty stomach. Berry or banana are my choices of flavoring. Just the thought of it makes my stomach churn The results of the test come back clean as do the results of the bone scan I have done on June 1st. I am in the clear. It is time to return to my normal life, be grateful of the fact that I am still here and move forward the best that I can. It is time to celebrate.

Tuesday, April 7th, 2009

I was wrong about how I would respond to this cycle. I am not feeling well at all. It is the middle of the night and I wake up to use the bathroom. The next thing I know I am leaning on the edge of the sink, staring at a red mark on my face. I can not comprehend what I am looking at. I turn around and see that I have not flushed the toilet. It is then that I realized what has happened. I have matching red marks on my legs from where I fell forward off the toilet as I passed out, hitting the floor hard enough to bruise my body. I have no idea how long I was unconscious. I walk back to the bedroom and ask Ryan if he has heard anything. When he says no, I become irrationally angry and scared. I could have been seriously injured, and no one would have known. The reason I had stayed at my parents’ home was so that someone would always be there for me. I call my mom and explain what has happened. She does not want me to go back to sleep, so she sits up with me and we phone the on-call doctor. He is not concerned and I decide not to go in to the hospital.

Monday, April 6th, 2009

I completed my last round of chemotherapy today. I was expecting two more rounds, but Dr. Chugh said this twelfth round will be it. It is disconcerting and overwhelming to think about getting back to normal life. I ask if I can stop taking my remaining medications, including my antidepressant, but Dr, Chugh warns me that the transition period I am entering is often more difficult than going through treatment.
From now on I will have scans every three months and will only have doctor visits at that time. I will need bone scans once a year. It is alarming to know I will go so long without being monitored. Dr. Chugh informs me that I will need to keep my port in for about two years and Ryan and I will not able to try to have children for the same amount of time.The first two years is the time whenI would be most likely to suffer a relapse. This is crushingly disappointing to me. But Dr. Chugh reminds me how blessed I have been during this long journey. My cancer never metastasized. My tumor responded well to treatment, shrinking significantly. I did not need to have my heart opened during surgery and they were able to get clear margins. The tumor cells were dead when they were tested. She is very happy with my progress, and so am I. There is about a thirty percent chance that my cancer will recur, but Dr. Chugh tells me to live my life like I am one of the seventy percent who never have to worry again. She tells me that she will watch me closely for the rest of my life.
I am expecting that this last round will be easy, since I have come to anticipate how I will react to my treatments