A Clean, Well Lighted Place

September 17, 2006

That’s what my liver looks like, O Best Beloveds, at least, per Monday’s PET scan. Clean. That is, cancer-free.

Isn’t it so strange, there you are, back in November, going on a trip, and your cancer doc calls and tells you some bad news, and then you do a bunch of stuff, and you come back from a trip, and your cancer doc tells you some good news. Time and life are so bewildering.

But yes, it looks like Dr. Waisman has once again worked his magic, and I am, once again, in remission. Son of a gun.

Being Dr. W., he’s not releasing me just like that; I still have to go through two full chemo rounds (one week down, five to go, with a two week break in the middle), which puts that last chemo on Nov. 2, assuming my blood counts stay in the acceptable range (if I had to take a bet, I’d guess I’m in for another transfusion at some point). If they don’t, he stops it sooner. Though I’m mighty tired of all this, I’m hoping my body holds out, because there is one suspicious looking node that could still turn sinister, and of course, we have no idea what random little buggers are floating around down in my big toe, so best to keep blasting away as long as possible. Maybe this time it will take for good. The additional plan is to start me on the aroma-tase (or is that tease?) inhibitor next month, so that overlaps with the last month of chemo, giving it time to get up to speed, and I start the tumor vaccine in Feb. Also, monthly blood tests for possibly forever. So I’m not done yet. And yet.

You know, I had more to say about all this, a whole thing written up in my head, including about how I surely owe some of this to the pork fat consumed during Plucky Survivors (did you read about our adventures?) but it all went away yesterday when Steve and I met with Dr. W. and he said “You know, Mary, I do this job, and I get the tests back, and I saw your name, and I clicked on the results…” and he stopped, as his voice choked up, and his eyes started to fill, and he walked out of the room, because he couldn’t talk any more.

Well, I had to get better, didn’t I? For Dr.Waisman. I mean, if he’s going to be like that about it.

Hey, waddya know? I’m better!