100 Days of Chemo

It’s the night before I start chemo. Again. If you’re keeping track, it’s #3.

Good things:

1. My last remission lasted 19 months.
2. I made it through 2013 without chemo.
3. I’m only 3.5 years from diagnosis.
4. Dr. H. says the average patient goes through 5 lines of chemo.
5. The doctors have not given up.

Despite the list, I disappoint people — I see it in their eyes. I’m not the survivor they’d like me to be. What I’d like to show is that chemo has a bright side if you’re still in the running.

When my CA 125 finally passed the threshold two weeks ago, my doctor didn’t say, you’re out of options, there’s nothing more we can do for you. That makes me happy because I know a woman who has been told just that and she’s off searching for whatever will keep her living longer. Chemo means there is hope.

Two weeks ago I suspected cancer was causing pain in my lung when I inhaled deeply. The doctor listened to my chest and sent me for an X-ray. She was very happy to tell me that it wasn’t a lesion. “It’s only fluid and only very little.” I was pleased and on the way home before I realized it was fluid on the lung that G. suffered before she died.

Today I saw the doctor again because now the pain had amplified, needing Tylenol and it had shifted to the rear of my lung. A CT scan a couple of hours later satisfied the doctor’s fears that it wasn’t a blood clot. Now I’m even glad it’s only fluid.

I went on to enjoy the first picnic of the year at the beach. Here’s to chemo.