All Good
I received the magic letter last week. Negative. And by negative, I mean positive -- that is, I have been officially declared cancer free for three more months.
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I received the magic letter last week. Negative. And by negative, I mean positive -- that is, I have been officially declared cancer free for three more months.
I went to see the orthopod last week for a re-check of my wrist. The xray revealed that my bone is entirely back to normal -- all calcification has been absorbed. As the bone heals, the line on the xray becomes more visible as calcium collects around the break as the bone knits. Once the bone is healed, the calcium is absorbed and the bone looks smooth and whole. The doctor was surprised that my bone had healed entirely in such a short period of time. It's funny, but I felt so proud that my bone had healed so well -- especially after I've been told that I have osteoporosis from the surgically induced menopause.
Before I went to see my orthopod, I had my 3-month appointment with the oncologist. Even after all this time, I still have such a terrible time on those days. I cannot do anything productive and after the appointment, I feel like I've been knocked out. She said, "everything looks good." I never know what that means because, really, we don't know until she gets the test results back and mails me a letter telling me that I am fine. It's such a strange thing to be always awaiting various technological medical viewing modalities to inform me about my state of health.
I've been using my wrist for weeks, hell, I was zooming down Whistler mountain on my downhill bike. I was wearing a brace, but still, I think that should say something about the state of my bone. But, I was overjoyed at being shown the xray that illustrated the state of health for my wrist bone.
Same thing with the damn cancer. I feel great. But, I felt great when I was diagnosed. I was (I thought) in the best health of my life. I worked out consistently and with dedication. I took vitamins, ate the right foods and had previously lost some excess weight to reach what the doctors all called "thin" as they remarked about their surprise at finding cancer in my uterus.
I guess that's why I always spend the weeks after my appointment with the oncologist a little terrified as I wait for the letter. And, even though I know she wouldn't tell me that there was a problem in a letter, I always hold my breath as I rip it open. I'm not okay until the letter says that I am ok. So, I'm waiting for a letter now. It's especially potent as my next appointment will mark the two year point -- a reduction in the possibility of recurrence as well as a reduction in the number of check-ups. I will only have to report to the oncologist every six months instead of every three. So, I just need to get through this one and make it to that two year mark. It's remarkable that it is still so difficult after almost two years have passed.