It's Like Hershey Park Without Hilary

Good Numbers! Good Numbers! Good Numbers! It's a Christmas Miracle. My hCG dropped from 39 to 7.5 - what a blessing! All the prayers really paid off.

This is obviously good news. If the number went up again, we were in trouble. Talk of another PET scan, changing chemotherapy, even stopping chemo for a little bit to let the cancer grow so we can find out exactly where it is. As you can imagine, when I put my head on the pillow, all of those options race through my head. I have a uncanny ability to go from zero to sixty in 3.2 seconds. While I try to reign in, it difficult not to speculate what we would have to do if cancer took over any of the four major metastases sites; lung, brain, liver or kidney. Ugh.

I mention Hershey Park because this is like a total emotional roller coaster. My family, friends and I put all of our faith and hope in this number. When it goes down we are elated. When it goes up we collectively panic. Just up and down, and up and down. I feel a huge sigh of relief when there's good news. I feel like there's a rock on my chest when there is bad news. And I know a lot of you do too. It really is a roller coaster.

The only roller coasters I like to ride are with my sister-in-law Hilary for her birthday. One her favorite events is to take the whole family to Hershey Park and ride the roller coasters. Be clear, Noonie (her middle name and nickname) is not even five feet tall, and she can't see well, hear well or walk well. But she can ride a roller coaster like a champ! It's always so heartwarming to see her smile as she loads into the car. She often rides with her mouth wide open the whole time. I'm afraid she'll catch bugs. (But really my mouth is open the whole time too, because I'm screaming at the top of my lungs.) She rides next to her brothers or one of her nieces and nephews. I think a lot of people really enjoy roller coasters. Yet, in my mind, Hilary takes the cake.

While those Hershey Park roller coasters are a blast, this hCG roller coaster is a nightmare. It doesn't matter how tall you are or how loud you scream, I'm on the ride whether you like it or not. I just want to be done and get off. I really do. But I know I'm not really on this roller coaster alone. There are dozens of you riding this ride with me. Even Hilary is sitting in the car next to me. And instead of laughing like she does at Hershey Park, she sitting next to me on this roller coaster praying. She's a darn good prayer ... like so many of you. Eventually this cancer coaster will pull back into the station and we will all get off. We will all breathe a collective sigh of relief and say a prayer of thanksgiving. And finally Chris and I will get back to living life on our terms. In the meantime, I'm holding on with both hands and screaming at the top of my lungs.