Old Home Week

... a trip back to Tom Baker Cancer Centre for my first oncologist check up.  It feels like years since I've been here. 

I have both a sense of triumph and a sense of not really belonging anymore.  Much like when you go back to your elementary school and suddenly discover that the drinking fountains only come up to your knees ... you've outgrown the place and didn't even notice that you grew up.   

There are sick people here, ailing people, sad people.  These people look at me - with a question mark etched on their face - "what are you doing here?", "are you one of us .. or one of them?"  They look at me and I feel as if I'm an impostor.  But I want to say "no!  I'm one of you ... but I'm cured."  Maybe I need to wear a badge that says "Hello, my name was Foam Lori" or "Chemo Graduating Class of March 2010".

I pop into Radiation Unit #10 for a quick visit and some hugs and high 5's from Lisa and Diane.  It feels weird to be there but it's shocking to realize how quickly the time has gone by and how locked in to some weird purgatory of suspended animation I've lived in for the past number of months.

I wander down the hall trying very hard to NOT think about "me" having cancer and trying very hard to not think about all of the sickness and pain in our world.  Push those thoughts away ... bring back hope, optimism and denial ... it's happier there.  Nurse Diane meets me in the hallway with a hug.  (can I tell you what amazing people healthcare professionals are??!!)

Dr. Wilson is almost giddy with delight to see me - she is happy and enthusiastic.  You have to take that as a good sign!   Everyone expresses how well they think I appear to be doing (it's a good thing none of them are clairvoyant!) and she is genuinely pleased with my progress.  With another looming "look-see" exam I try to extend the chit chat and conversational banter as long as possible ... the weather, news, hospital expansion, reality TV (you get the picture).  I describe to her the feeling I get in the treatment zone that is reminiscent of sticking your tongue on a 9V battery.  I mean, hasn't everyone (!) done that??  The conversation continues on to an in depth discussion of tongues on flagpoles in January and other such rites of Canadian passage. 

... but the inevitable glove is donned and down on the bullet I bite!  

She is surprised by how little radiation burning I have and she proclaims "excellent, appropriate early treatment response" - I take that as doctor-speak for "we did a great job and you were lucky to have us as your medical team, aren't we wonderful?".  Yah, as a matter of fact I do think they are wonderful.  :)   She agrees with Dr Jenken's findings but is even more optimistic than he was.  Regardless, it means I am cancer-free right now.  

My surgeon reiterated that this cancer has a 50% 2-yr recurrence rate - but that also means it has a 50% chance of never coming back.  So I'm going with THAT option.  :)   My oncologist (Dr Wilson) said that due to my good response to treatment it should mean my chances are more like 70/30 in favour of staying cancer-free.   She also said "in all likelihood, in 40 yrs you'll look back on this as a little "blip" in your life".  I like that thought - blips are good.

But because this is such an aggressive form of this disease, I am on the 1-month check up plan.  This requires I go back to visit both the surgeon and oncologist once a month for the next year or so to ensure I stay cancer-free.  I am very happy with the aggressive follow up ... as it means if there is a recurrence, we will catch it quickly and it reduces the stress of wondering for 3 months if something is growing again.  

I'm still recovering from the side-effects of treatment (fatigue, GI issues, not sleeping, bone pain, loss of muscle mass, etc), and these will continue to improve over the next year or so, but I'm feeling better, more energetic and more positive about life everyday.  I've made the decision to stay in Calgary for the next 2 yrs (to get through the medical gateposts) and suddenly there is lots of other "life" happening in my life.    I hold no false illusion that I have beaten this ... but I do know that I'm absolutely going to live my life as if I have 2 yrs left to live - and I'm going to make the most out of it and not let opportunities pass me by or put them off.  All in all, I am very pleased with the news, the follow up plan and with my overall prognosis.   "My future's so bright ... I gotta wear shades! " :)

I came home to a great little surprise on my doorstep (no, NOT a burning bag of dog poop!) but a mug from my friend Dawn.  The mug has a huge letter A on it ...  it's my grade for Graduating the Chemo Class of March 2010!   Thanks Dawn ... you're a sister fighter/survivor and I admire your courage.   

For the first time in a loooooong time I feel happy and joyous to be alive.  I have to thank all of you for your wonderful support that has really bolstered me though this trying time.  Friends are the best!  

So, I survived my 1 month reunion and Old Home Week was far more good than bad.  I think I want to set this as a pattern for the future.   :)