This past Tuesday was my two-year mammogram. I made an "A." That means that I'm now officially a "two-year survivor." We've discussed before how much I dislike that survivor term; I prefer "unwilling participant."
Anyhow, Tuesday came and went. Happily. We had Carol and Rob for dinner and I played with my new stove like it was a Barbie doll. Also played "set the table" for a couple of hours, thoroughly pleasing myself. C & R brought gifts and good wine, as usual, and we had a lovely evening catching up with them.
Wednesday I went back to MD Anderson because I didn't have time on Tuesday to get my Zometa infusion -- this is the study drug I'm on that builds up bone density torn down by the Arimidex (the super anti-cancer oral drug that I'm on for the next three years). Zometa has also been shown to further lower the recurrence rates in HER2 cancer patients, so that's another plus. I'm on a 36-month study, infusion every three months.
I bopped up to the infusion clinic, whistling Christmas Carols, blackberry in one hand and a grande non-fat chai in the other. Got to the waiting area, sat down, surveyed all of those very sad people in various stages of illness, looked into the eyes of their anxious caregivers, heard the hushed tones of fear and worry, and burst into tears.
I was just so heartsick for all of them. I wished I could tell them that they'd be ok. I wanted to show them my hair, how pretty it is, and to tell them how hard I'd sobbed when it came out in my hands in the shower. I wanted to tell them how I'd gone hiking three weeks after finishing chemo and how hilarious it was that I was immune to the swarms of mountain mosquitos, and how hilarious it wasn't that I almost didn't make it down the mountain. But I did make it down the mountain, and I wanted them to know that. I thought maybe it would help. Or maybe not.
I finally called my brother to tell him my good news from the previous day, and got myself straightened up during the call. I also told him that there is a big New Year's Eve party at his house again this year, even though he hasn't yet extended an invitation to any of us. Stacy and I have already decided we're going, so he and Cheryl need to get ready.
Merry Christmas everyone. If you read this blog, you are part of the reason I celebrate this year.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
8 comments:
Damn. Now I've got the crying headache.
I love you....
Stacy
Don't cry. I'm ok. I get worried about you, though.
And I worry about BOTH of you. And I'mtheonewiththeheartcondition.
Hi Pat!
That's great news! Enjoy
the holidays with your
loved ones. You've got
a lot of celebrating to do!
Love,
Cousin Kathi E.
I would like to add: her HAIR is great! Thick and black as ink!!!
Our New Years Eve party has kind of become a tradition, (how many consecutive years now?) and you, Chuck and Casey have a standing reservation. We are looking forward to your visit and all the holiday cheer that you bring us. I cleaned your bathroom and the wrapping paper in your bedroom today, so we are ready for your arrival. And the invitation stands for anyone else who shows up at our door. Only negative thing this year is due to our extreme drought, we cannot have our usual fireworks display. How 'bout if we just break wine bottles in the cul-de-sac? That should make some noise and give us something to clean up the next morning!
Tommy
I do like the idea of busting up wine bottles; could we shoot them?
What am I saying? I just get all carried away!!
Wild times in Helotes?
Post a Comment