Exactly one year ago today I started this blog. I was scared shitless.
When I was diagnosed, a very wise woman told me "Right foot, left foot...breath in, breath out...repeat". And she couldn't have been more correct. One year later, I am done with chemo, done with radiation and have a clean PET scan to prove it. I am so grateful!
Like all good cancer blog authors, I dropped off the face of the (blog)planet following my last dose of chemotherapy. When I was first diagnosed, I spent hours reading others' blogs hoping to find answers to all the unanswerable questions - will my cancer respond, what will chemo be like, exactly when would I feel sick, lose my hair, re-grow my hair, be admitted, have a relapse, not feel like crap, and on and on. (Many thanks to the bloggers our there that told me I might not lose all of my hair - true story. I lost probably 2/3rd of it, but kept enough to look "normal" aside from the most pathetic ponytail you have ever seen.) I remember being so annoyed as I read these blogs that all ended with the famous "last chemo" post. I kept wondering....then what? You were fine? You were not fine and didn't feel like writing about it?? What happens next?
I think the reason people don't write about the "after" as much as the "during" is because after happens so slowly. Bit by bit, life returns to normal. After chemo, I was exhausted; part from the drugs and part from being deconditioned. Then, a few months ago someone asked "how are you feeling - still tired?" And I was surprised, because the answer was "no" but I had no idea how long it had been like that. Day by day, minute by minute things got better. I went back to work and think I do a better job and my job. I sit longer with patients and try my best to talk less and listen more.
This week has been emotional for me because it is hard to believe that a year has passed and that ONLY a year has passed. I told John that I wish I could go back in time and tell myself to quit crying and worrying so much - but I think that was all part of my experience. I cried and worried because I love my life and everyone that is in it. I feel so lucky to be surrounded by the most amazing people in the world. I cried for my sweet boys because I so love being their mother. I cried for my husband because he deserves a partner in this crazy life and I want to always be the one by his side (likely saying something bossy or sarcastic, or both). I cried and cried and cried. And then, it was Hodgkin's, and I stopped crying and started with the right foot, left foot routine. What I did get to experience during the time I was sick was this amazing outpouring of support from friends, family, co-workers, neighbors, even people I had never met. There is a saying "you are more important than you know" and this was definitely my experience. Then, after all the chemo and radiation I was so lucky to walk away healthy, with a refocused love for this life I get to live. I will never be able to repay my debt to the universe for granting me more time in this world.
My next scan is in April and I will be secretly holding my breath until then because I am so scared of relapse. The odds are in my favor, but as a physician I see the rare and unpredictable. I know that odds are simply odds and that every once and awhile someone has to take a turn as the "infrequent relapse". I should also know that worrying about it won't change the outcome - but as you will remember, I am a good at worrying.
