Where are they now?
Here I am.
Good news. Still in remission. I have a full head of hair, full capacity in my lungs, and more post-chemo weight gained than I'd like to admit. It has been almost 7 months since my first PET came back clear. It has been 4 months since my last chemo treatment and consequently my last update.
I kind of fell off the wagon. I think I needed to. I think I needed to step away from the whole cancer thing for a while, try to focus on the other things in my life. It's difficult, because it was such a large thing. It was so prominent and in your face that it was hard to just ignore it. So I learned not to. It is what it is. It's a part of my history but I do not need to think about it or talk about it like it's the only thing that I have ever done or experienced in my life. I needed to let some things go.
In late July I had my second PET scan. It came back clear as well. I had been fighting a summer cold so the results were funny. There was evidence of my lymph-nodes being inflamed and a small speck on my right lung. I was assured that it was nothing and that these were mere signs of the body acting normally to fight an everyday infection. In Dr. Spivey I trust.
However, I found it alarming. I spent the next week obsessing, constantly researching what it could mean, checking my neck and feeling my lymph-nodes, wondering if it was all starting again.
The demand of a new job and a new school year soon brought the worry down. With more immediate issues surfacing my mind was allowed to wander away from the gloom of the glowing node and back to experiencing life, because in the end, life does not wait.
I began my sixth year in education. This year is different. No more class. No more coaching. My role as a Student Literacy Coach focuses solely on the success of individual meetings and extension sessions with students with specific needs in regards to STAAR testing.
Like a tutor.
I focus on individual student needs and tailor sessions to focus on what each student needs to be successful.
The new position has afforded me something that I value more now: time.
I am home. I am home now with my boys. My evenings and weekends are spent playing daddy. I can cook dinner, pack lunches, and cover them up at night. I honestly can not even imagine how much time I have missed out on previously.
I know Ashley appreciates it.
The important thing is that it's all getting back to normal. This "thing" is no longer on the forefront of my mind. The chaos and fear, of which was only a few months ago now seem like a distant past life. It is not until someone brings it up, asking me “How do you feel?” that the memory resurfaces, often after a period of wondering what the heck they’re talking about.
My boys' birthday is October 29th. I am excited beyond words.
I cannot believe they are this big. I figure that this would be as good a place as any to start writing the second half of the story. One where I focus on the life and not the "thing", because now, it is just a thing. There will still be enough of the thing, but there will be more of the life. I mean, isn't that the benefit of an experience like this?
Cherish and appreciate life.
I will keep you posted on the PET, and on my boys' birthday. It's going to be a good day.
How are these guys already turning three?
P.S.- Remember, you are stronger than cancer. #StayStrong.
Here I am.
Good news. Still in remission. I have a full head of hair, full capacity in my lungs, and more post-chemo weight gained than I'd like to admit. It has been almost 7 months since my first PET came back clear. It has been 4 months since my last chemo treatment and consequently my last update.
I kind of fell off the wagon. I think I needed to. I think I needed to step away from the whole cancer thing for a while, try to focus on the other things in my life. It's difficult, because it was such a large thing. It was so prominent and in your face that it was hard to just ignore it. So I learned not to. It is what it is. It's a part of my history but I do not need to think about it or talk about it like it's the only thing that I have ever done or experienced in my life. I needed to let some things go.
In late July I had my second PET scan. It came back clear as well. I had been fighting a summer cold so the results were funny. There was evidence of my lymph-nodes being inflamed and a small speck on my right lung. I was assured that it was nothing and that these were mere signs of the body acting normally to fight an everyday infection. In Dr. Spivey I trust.
However, I found it alarming. I spent the next week obsessing, constantly researching what it could mean, checking my neck and feeling my lymph-nodes, wondering if it was all starting again.
The demand of a new job and a new school year soon brought the worry down. With more immediate issues surfacing my mind was allowed to wander away from the gloom of the glowing node and back to experiencing life, because in the end, life does not wait.
I began my sixth year in education. This year is different. No more class. No more coaching. My role as a Student Literacy Coach focuses solely on the success of individual meetings and extension sessions with students with specific needs in regards to STAAR testing.
Like a tutor.
I focus on individual student needs and tailor sessions to focus on what each student needs to be successful.
The new position has afforded me something that I value more now: time.
I am home. I am home now with my boys. My evenings and weekends are spent playing daddy. I can cook dinner, pack lunches, and cover them up at night. I honestly can not even imagine how much time I have missed out on previously.
I know Ashley appreciates it.
The important thing is that it's all getting back to normal. This "thing" is no longer on the forefront of my mind. The chaos and fear, of which was only a few months ago now seem like a distant past life. It is not until someone brings it up, asking me “How do you feel?” that the memory resurfaces, often after a period of wondering what the heck they’re talking about.
“Oh, yeah. The cancer. I’m okay.”
It's not their fault. They are honestly asking out of care and concern. I had cancer and they want to know how I feel. I understand that. I just forget that.
It's not their fault. They are honestly asking out of care and concern. I had cancer and they want to know how I feel. I understand that. I just forget that.
Days like today bring it all back, though. I had a full oncology visit. It was a scheduled appointment. I am to have one every two months for a while. Full doctor visit and blood work. Plus, we scheduale the next PET.
I have been feeling a little worried with this impending date circled on the calender. My throat has been sore. I am not sure if it is my lymph-nodes or just from me forcefully feeling them non stop for the past week. The memory of the last PET is still there, and it will be until the next one has come and gone, and I am given another round of peace.
Does this last forever? I can't help but worry that it might, despite my best efforts to forget and move on.
My blood results were good. Not amazing. I mean, they are amazing considering where this journey started. I came in today at 14.1. Two months ago I was at 14.8. This worries me. I am not sure why my counts are not going up, but in fact seem to be hovering at borderline normal or maybe even dropping. Dr. Spivey, however, was not worried. He proceeded business as usual and assured me that everything looked okay.
He felt my neck and found nothing. We talked about work, standardized testing, and Ebola. I got a flu shot, set up future appointments, and was assured that everything looked good.
In Spivey we trust.
I have been feeling a little worried with this impending date circled on the calender. My throat has been sore. I am not sure if it is my lymph-nodes or just from me forcefully feeling them non stop for the past week. The memory of the last PET is still there, and it will be until the next one has come and gone, and I am given another round of peace.
Does this last forever? I can't help but worry that it might, despite my best efforts to forget and move on.
My blood results were good. Not amazing. I mean, they are amazing considering where this journey started. I came in today at 14.1. Two months ago I was at 14.8. This worries me. I am not sure why my counts are not going up, but in fact seem to be hovering at borderline normal or maybe even dropping. Dr. Spivey, however, was not worried. He proceeded business as usual and assured me that everything looked okay.
He felt my neck and found nothing. We talked about work, standardized testing, and Ebola. I got a flu shot, set up future appointments, and was assured that everything looked good.
In Spivey we trust.
My PET is scheduled for October 29th. My boys' birthday. It is going to be an eventful day. I should receive the results the following Thursday or Friday. With all of my stressing, neck-feeling, and fluster over my last test result... I am ready for the 29th today. I am anxious beyond words.
My boys' birthday is October 29th. I am excited beyond words.
I cannot believe they are this big. I figure that this would be as good a place as any to start writing the second half of the story. One where I focus on the life and not the "thing", because now, it is just a thing. There will still be enough of the thing, but there will be more of the life. I mean, isn't that the benefit of an experience like this?
Cherish and appreciate life.
I will keep you posted on the PET, and on my boys' birthday. It's going to be a good day.
How are these guys already turning three?
P.S.- Remember, you are stronger than cancer. #StayStrong.
How bout them Cowboys..
ReplyDelete