Ironic that you all know I survived cancer but I feel I have to title this blog post is I'm Still Alive. This blog has been my life line for the last 18 months. You all have been dedicated readers and staunch supporters. Then, as soon as I'm well, I abandon you.
My apologies.
I don't have an excuse. I'm too busy living? I'm so over the blog? I don't care if you check everyday to see if there's an update? No, none of those are true. I don't really have an answer. I feel maybe I'm just not compelled to keep stringing you all along. I'm well. I don't have cancer anymore. I'm not bald anymore. I'm not sick anymore. Why would a well person have a blog??
The first problem with the thought of discontinuing the blog is .... I still have so much to say. (Shocker!) I have blog posts swimming in my mind. Did you know I paid an extra $500 for a private room at Sloan Kettering. And the only private room available was the Obese Patient Room. Hysterical - wait until you see the pictures of the toilet bowl. I have "Cancer Clothes" which I will continue to wear proudly despite being cancer-free. I ran (walked) the Relay for Life - this Survivors' Lap was real for me as an actual survivor. So much to tell ... funny pictures to share. This story is not over.
Hang in with me. Life (sleeping late, getting my nails done, going to the pool) gets in the way of blogging. But I promise, there are laughs and tears yet to share. Thank you for coming on this journey with me. You don't know how much it has meant to me.
xoxo
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Sunday, June 9, 2013
A Cancer Friend
Cancer doesn't kill people, it brings people together at the worst time of their lives. Agnes taught me that.
Several friends told me about a woman named Andrea who is sick. She plays tennis so you know she's good peeps! But she's ill and having surgery in New York next week. Please lift her up in your prayers. I spoke to her on the phone the other day and it was so weird to be on the other side of the conversation. I had called several cancer survivors when I was first diagnosed and of course leaned on all the wonderful women in the Chemo Lounge. My heart is broken that Andrea and her family have to go through the pain and trauma of cancer but I know she'll prevail after I received this e-mail from her. (Andrea, I hope you don't mind me sharing. All my Blog Buddies are full of love and support, I promise!)
Andrea,
You already have the strength and courage I have. Your e-mail congratulated me on being cancer free and you wrote, "I will get there too!" That's it - that's all you have to do right now. That's your job for the time being and you WILL get there.
I was so happy to talk to you. Isn't it crazy how many people know someone going through something. I felt like this was simply the worst and no one else had it so bad - that was my reality. But, sadly, every person I talked with had a terrible story of someone they knew too. I couldn't even be special with cancer, damn it! But it made me realize every family has something - this is your something and it sucks. However, you will fight like hell until you are well. And I will be praying you along the whole way.
Ok, so my three things when I go to bed are:
1) As I close my eyelids, I pretend they are like the red velvet curtains at a play house. As I close my eyes it's like the curtain falling at the end of a show. The play is over - this day is over. And whether it was good or bad, it is done and the only place you have to go is forward. But first you have to go to sleep and recharge for whatever the next day holds. I say, "Dear Lord, thank you for this day but it's over now and I want to put it behind me and be calm and sleep well. It's curtain call." (This is from my best friend's mother, Mrs. Rannazzisi, a deeply spiritual woman whose one son is a priest.)
2) Then as I lay in my bed next to my husband and with my dogs at our feet, I say, "Dear Lord, please blanket us in your white light where all good things lie." This is a calming image for me - that in the darkness of my bedroom God's light is still there and all over me. (This is actually what the Long Island Medium Theresa Caputo says before she "reads" a person. I'm from LI and I believe she has a deeply spiritual gift and it was a nice image for me.)
3) Last, I say, "Dear Lord, I trust in you. Please hold me in the palm of your hands." (I'm crying as I write this.) What could be more supportive than thinking you are small and God is big and able to literally cradle your sleeping body in his hands? I've always been really moved by the song On Eagle's Wings at church. One verse says:
And He will raise you up on eagles' wings
Bear you on the breath of dawn
Make you to shine like the sun
And hold you in the palm of His hand.
This is often a funeral song. (When I wrote my will on Legal Zoom.com when I got sick :-) I asked for this to be played at my funeral. That will happen - just when I'm 85, not 33!) God can do anything, including cure you, and in the meantime he will hold you up. (This one is from my mom. She is deeply religious and always reminds me how strong and capable God is even if I'm not.)
By the time I said these three things, I was able to remind myself that God's will be done and I believed that His will was that I should live and have a family and love and laugh and feel the sun on my face. So that's what I plan to do from now on. I am cancer-free and it's a miracle. At first I didn't think I deserved a miracle, but He thought otherwise. I will spend the rest of my long, cancer-free life telling other people this story.
I can't wait until you tell your story of triumph! I'm so proud of you for fighting for your life! You will be well rewarded.
Love, ~Meredith
Several friends told me about a woman named Andrea who is sick. She plays tennis so you know she's good peeps! But she's ill and having surgery in New York next week. Please lift her up in your prayers. I spoke to her on the phone the other day and it was so weird to be on the other side of the conversation. I had called several cancer survivors when I was first diagnosed and of course leaned on all the wonderful women in the Chemo Lounge. My heart is broken that Andrea and her family have to go through the pain and trauma of cancer but I know she'll prevail after I received this e-mail from her. (Andrea, I hope you don't mind me sharing. All my Blog Buddies are full of love and support, I promise!)
Hi Meredith-
Thanks so much for calling me last week. You are truly an inspiration and I want your strength and courage as I face the weeks and months ahead! I really appreciate your advice and would love to hear again the 3 things that you pray for. I can’t wait to read the book Gift of the Red Bird. You have given me such hope and encouragement!
Congrats on being cancer free!!! I will get there too!
Andrea
We had talked about what I prayed at night to be calm. This is what I e-mailed her. As I typed, it occurred to me how important this is to me and that I've never shared it. For all those who have supported me through this trial, I thought you might like to know how you've all helped influence me and get me through.
Andrea,
You already have the strength and courage I have. Your e-mail congratulated me on being cancer free and you wrote, "I will get there too!" That's it - that's all you have to do right now. That's your job for the time being and you WILL get there.
I was so happy to talk to you. Isn't it crazy how many people know someone going through something. I felt like this was simply the worst and no one else had it so bad - that was my reality. But, sadly, every person I talked with had a terrible story of someone they knew too. I couldn't even be special with cancer, damn it! But it made me realize every family has something - this is your something and it sucks. However, you will fight like hell until you are well. And I will be praying you along the whole way.
Ok, so my three things when I go to bed are:
1) As I close my eyelids, I pretend they are like the red velvet curtains at a play house. As I close my eyes it's like the curtain falling at the end of a show. The play is over - this day is over. And whether it was good or bad, it is done and the only place you have to go is forward. But first you have to go to sleep and recharge for whatever the next day holds. I say, "Dear Lord, thank you for this day but it's over now and I want to put it behind me and be calm and sleep well. It's curtain call." (This is from my best friend's mother, Mrs. Rannazzisi, a deeply spiritual woman whose one son is a priest.)
2) Then as I lay in my bed next to my husband and with my dogs at our feet, I say, "Dear Lord, please blanket us in your white light where all good things lie." This is a calming image for me - that in the darkness of my bedroom God's light is still there and all over me. (This is actually what the Long Island Medium Theresa Caputo says before she "reads" a person. I'm from LI and I believe she has a deeply spiritual gift and it was a nice image for me.)
3) Last, I say, "Dear Lord, I trust in you. Please hold me in the palm of your hands." (I'm crying as I write this.) What could be more supportive than thinking you are small and God is big and able to literally cradle your sleeping body in his hands? I've always been really moved by the song On Eagle's Wings at church. One verse says:
And He will raise you up on eagles' wings
Bear you on the breath of dawn
Make you to shine like the sun
And hold you in the palm of His hand.
This is often a funeral song. (When I wrote my will on Legal Zoom.com when I got sick :-) I asked for this to be played at my funeral. That will happen - just when I'm 85, not 33!) God can do anything, including cure you, and in the meantime he will hold you up. (This one is from my mom. She is deeply religious and always reminds me how strong and capable God is even if I'm not.)
By the time I said these three things, I was able to remind myself that God's will be done and I believed that His will was that I should live and have a family and love and laugh and feel the sun on my face. So that's what I plan to do from now on. I am cancer-free and it's a miracle. At first I didn't think I deserved a miracle, but He thought otherwise. I will spend the rest of my long, cancer-free life telling other people this story.
I can't wait until you tell your story of triumph! I'm so proud of you for fighting for your life! You will be well rewarded.
Love, ~Meredith
Thursday, June 6, 2013
The Ovaries Are ON!
It just keeps getting better.
No more than .... eh, five minutes after I found out I was cancer-free, I called the Lancaster Fertility Center. I might have been jumping the gun a little bit but if I can't have my own babies, might as well find out sooner than later.
It was two weeks ago that we met with Dr. Sobel. He's kind and cute. Makes me feel like there is a little hope. That's when he drew my blood to see if my ovaries were - as I said it - "dead" or if they might still work. It turns out - much to everyone's surprise - my ovaries are functioning perfectly fine. If I still had a uterus I'd be getting my period. (Right now, that's still the only upside of a 32 year old having a hysterectomy - I will no longer be funding the Tampax empire.) The hormones needed to keep the ovaries producing eggs are there and doing their job. Amazing! I was amazed and so was Dr. Sobel!
The concern is two fold, 1) the amount of chemo I had, and 2) the type of chemo, specifically the Cisplatin. That's because Cisplatin is an alkaline based chemo, apparently bad for ovaries. All I understand of that is they make batteries out of alkaline, don't they? So I guess I can understand that pouring battery acid on an ovary would be a bad thing. That fucking Cisplatin - that's the drug that gave me the terrible reaction, remember? I legitimately thought I was going to die and Kristin had to save me! That drug is the worst - in more ways than one. However, the Cisplatin didn't win this time. Oh no, my ovaries are A-OK. So take that, Chemo!
The next issue is follicles. I know this is way more than most of you need to know, but I'm going to give you the gritty details anyway. After the good news about the ovaries, now we need to see if there are any follicles on them that would release eggs. Back to an ultrasound - the unfortunate procedure I've only had twice, which twice showed cancer instead of baby. This time, at least, I wasn't expecting to see a fetus - there ain't no room for that in the Cul-de-sac! But when he starts moving that wand around and the grey on the screen gets, well, more grey, I think I see an ovary. Obviously I have no idea what I am talking about because said grey spot isn't an ovary. It's a follicle! A follicle so big even I could make it out on the mish mosh of the screen! That ovary had 2 follicles. So instantly we knew the follicles were a go! Alleluia!
I'm thinking of the process like this: there are at least 10 hurdles between Chris and I ... and having a child that is biologically our own. We could get tripped up on any one of them and it's over. Adoption City, here we come. But so far, we cleared the first two hurdles! Incredible! See ... I told you to have hope and here it is!
The End Game is still a little wishy washy. I don't quite know where we go from here. There are some very specific biologic questions we have to ask the doctor at Sloan Kettering and the fertility clinic needs to ask a geneticist. We'll try to get some answers and go from there. For now, hope reigns supreme.
No more than .... eh, five minutes after I found out I was cancer-free, I called the Lancaster Fertility Center. I might have been jumping the gun a little bit but if I can't have my own babies, might as well find out sooner than later.
It was two weeks ago that we met with Dr. Sobel. He's kind and cute. Makes me feel like there is a little hope. That's when he drew my blood to see if my ovaries were - as I said it - "dead" or if they might still work. It turns out - much to everyone's surprise - my ovaries are functioning perfectly fine. If I still had a uterus I'd be getting my period. (Right now, that's still the only upside of a 32 year old having a hysterectomy - I will no longer be funding the Tampax empire.) The hormones needed to keep the ovaries producing eggs are there and doing their job. Amazing! I was amazed and so was Dr. Sobel!
The concern is two fold, 1) the amount of chemo I had, and 2) the type of chemo, specifically the Cisplatin. That's because Cisplatin is an alkaline based chemo, apparently bad for ovaries. All I understand of that is they make batteries out of alkaline, don't they? So I guess I can understand that pouring battery acid on an ovary would be a bad thing. That fucking Cisplatin - that's the drug that gave me the terrible reaction, remember? I legitimately thought I was going to die and Kristin had to save me! That drug is the worst - in more ways than one. However, the Cisplatin didn't win this time. Oh no, my ovaries are A-OK. So take that, Chemo!
The next issue is follicles. I know this is way more than most of you need to know, but I'm going to give you the gritty details anyway. After the good news about the ovaries, now we need to see if there are any follicles on them that would release eggs. Back to an ultrasound - the unfortunate procedure I've only had twice, which twice showed cancer instead of baby. This time, at least, I wasn't expecting to see a fetus - there ain't no room for that in the Cul-de-sac! But when he starts moving that wand around and the grey on the screen gets, well, more grey, I think I see an ovary. Obviously I have no idea what I am talking about because said grey spot isn't an ovary. It's a follicle! A follicle so big even I could make it out on the mish mosh of the screen! That ovary had 2 follicles. So instantly we knew the follicles were a go! Alleluia!
I'm thinking of the process like this: there are at least 10 hurdles between Chris and I ... and having a child that is biologically our own. We could get tripped up on any one of them and it's over. Adoption City, here we come. But so far, we cleared the first two hurdles! Incredible! See ... I told you to have hope and here it is!
The End Game is still a little wishy washy. I don't quite know where we go from here. There are some very specific biologic questions we have to ask the doctor at Sloan Kettering and the fertility clinic needs to ask a geneticist. We'll try to get some answers and go from there. For now, hope reigns supreme.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Do you think the Cosmo is mad at me?
I call this blog "Cosmos and Chemo." Friends have been showering me with fun Cosmopolitan related gifts:
The latest - these Cosmo sunglasses from Maureen down at the beach! Hysterical, right? She got the other girls wine glasses but picked Cosmo ones especially for me! Our biggest problem is what kind of tan lines will get on our faces if we where these in the sun. So funny!
So do you think is bad karma that I had MARGARITAS when I found out I was probably cancer free??
Obviously it's not bad because it's all been going so well. I'm still on Cloud 9. I don't think the prospect of *not* having cancer has really set in yet. It's almost hard to switch your mindset so quickly from being a cancer patient to being a regular person again. I feel like I was in that "fight of my life" mode for so long, I'm almost a little lost right now. I don't know how to identify myself: former cancer patient? person who is well but not yet totally back to normal? girl doesn't give a fuck about much because she's just so happy to be alive? or just simply Meredith? I'm still Meredith, but struggling with the rest of it a bit.
I think going back to work will help bring me around. So much of my identity is wrapped around being Meredith Jorgensen the reporter. I'm hoping resuming that role will help. Plus, I like the routine of work. I need to get up at the same time, see some people other than the two furry creatures who live in my house, have an intelligent conversation, and hopefully affect some change in the Susquehanna Valley ... then come home, put my feet up and have a Cosmo OR a Margarita - or hell, have both! I'm planning to be back at work at the end of August, after a Cancer-Free Party, a vacation with my supportive husband and an All Clear from the Sloan Kettering Doctor after my 3 month CAT Scan in August. I went from having one plan (get cancer-free) to a whole lotta plans (living, living and living it up) really fast.
I can't wait to get started ... no matter what drink I'm drinking!
The latest - these Cosmo sunglasses from Maureen down at the beach! Hysterical, right? She got the other girls wine glasses but picked Cosmo ones especially for me! Our biggest problem is what kind of tan lines will get on our faces if we where these in the sun. So funny!
So do you think is bad karma that I had MARGARITAS when I found out I was probably cancer free??
I think going back to work will help bring me around. So much of my identity is wrapped around being Meredith Jorgensen the reporter. I'm hoping resuming that role will help. Plus, I like the routine of work. I need to get up at the same time, see some people other than the two furry creatures who live in my house, have an intelligent conversation, and hopefully affect some change in the Susquehanna Valley ... then come home, put my feet up and have a Cosmo OR a Margarita - or hell, have both! I'm planning to be back at work at the end of August, after a Cancer-Free Party, a vacation with my supportive husband and an All Clear from the Sloan Kettering Doctor after my 3 month CAT Scan in August. I went from having one plan (get cancer-free) to a whole lotta plans (living, living and living it up) really fast.
I can't wait to get started ... no matter what drink I'm drinking!
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
One More Request??
I'm sorry I've been a little MIA on the blog. I've been too busy celebrating. Here's an update and one more request:
So am I reeeeaaaaalllllyyy cured? I'm not 100% sure. But I don't think I will ever been 100% sure. I think that's the black cloud that all cancer survivors live under. However, no black cloud is going to keep me from celebrating. I've gotten so many serious hugs - like long, hard, meaningful hugs. Most times I love it, other times friends squeeze just a little too hard post-chest surgery. But let's be honest - compared to chemo - a hard hug is nothing!
After the hcg drop, I did eventually talk to an actual oncologist. The doctor from Sloan Kettering, Dr. Aghajanian, said she was so happy about my dramatic hcg drop too. Now the question was chemo or no chemo. She called while I was shopping so I took my cell phone to the most quiet aisle and crossed my fingers. I knew Dr. Aghajanian would eventually describe how my next few months would go - with drugs or no drugs. She said, "You could go either way. It's 50/50..." (ugh) "But after all the chemo you've had, I don't think more chemo will help." (YES!) "Let's watch your hcg, come back for the three month CAT Scan and if it all looks good, we'll consider you cured." (You got it! I can certainly do that!)
I'm so relieved. The prospect of more chemo would have been daunting. My hair is growing in, it's summertime, and with a <2.0 hcg it would have sucked to go back to the drugs. So for now, it's all about getting stronger and healthier again.
My feet are still numb. I hope the nerve endings regenerate. It hurts to stand for a long time and my poor tootsies are always cold. But again, without cancer, who gives a shit about cold feet?!? Not me. It's all bonus ... I'm just happy to be alive.
But there is one other bonus I would be so blessed to have - a genetically Mer and Chris baby. If we are meant to have our own actual child carried by someone else, I would be forever grateful. If it's not meant to be, I will adjust. I'm just happy to be here. But this could be a big week.
Chris and I went to see a Fertility Specialist last week. While you might think I have a this all planned out already, ie: surrogate, IVF, adoption, gestational surrogate, domestic or internation baby - I don't have anything planned. Mainly because I couldn't plan. Chris and I were careful not to have too many conversations about things we weren't ready for yet. Chris kept saying, "Let's just get you well first, then we'll worry about that." So now it's time to worry about that.
Because I really know nothing, I had a lot of questions for this fertility doctor. Three of four Oncologists said my ovaries are probably dead. Ugh. This is terrible. I hear them saying this, I just don't want it to be true. But too much chemo is too much chemo. It might be too much poison for any eggs. However, it turns out this is not just a opinion thing. There is a blood test that will tell us if my ovaries are still working. A simple blood test that picks up two necessary hormones. I had that test last week and the results should come back this week. Could I be selfish enough to ask for even more prayers that my ovaries are ok?? I am trying to prepare myself for a big, fat no. I will be devastated (counseling, here I come) but in my gut I still feel like there is some hope.
Even the readings at church on Sunday seemed to be pointing in the right direction:
Romans 5:3-5; We also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope. Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.
So I'm saying my prayers and keeping my fingers crossed. I know it might be asking a lot, but it would make me as happy as hearing "Pucker Up Buttercup." Can I get two miracles in one month? I hope so.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
"Pucker Up, Buttercup!"
I've known for a full day. I think I just feel a little nervous to put it in writing.
I THINK I'M CANCER-FREE!!
Can you believe it?!!??! I mean, can you even fricken believe it????? I can't. But here's what I do know for sure.
I had surgery last Tuesday. There are so many funny surgery stories that I will save those laughs for later. The Sloan Kettering doctor called and asked me to get my blood drawn on Tuesday. My dear friend, Jeannette agreed to take me to the lab because I can't drive yet and then we would go to lunch. After I fill five tubes of blood we call Kristin at the cancer office. I told her I got my blood drawn and that it would be about a hour before we got the results. I asked her to call us when she got the numbers.
Kristin asked how I was feeling post-surgery and wanted to know what we should expect with the numbers. I had thought about this too. The last beta hCG was 49.1 on Monday, April 29th, right before the surgery. I explained to Kristin that no one told me what to expect. Maybe it would drop a little bit, maybe in half to 25, a beta hCG of 10 or even 5 would be amazing! But I told Kristin if she called back and said my hCG was less than 2, I would kiss her ... on the lips! She laughed and said her husband John would certainly pay to see that.
With the important stuff out of the way, Jeannette and I got in the car and talked about how to occupy the hour before the big reveal. I suggested lunch at a cute spot on Orange Street that Mary Beth Filling had taken me too. She suggested the James Street Cafe. Then, while moving her car from reverse back to park, she said, "Wait, do either of those places serve wine?" No. They didn't. Good call on Jeannette's part. Before we pulled out of the parking spot, we came up with a solution. Why stop at wine? We were just blocks away from El Serrano. Margaritas!!
For a moment (and a brief moment it was) I thought, I'm on Percocet. I can't drink. But reeeeaaaallllly, I'm sure you can. I thought I would try mixing prescription drugs and booze while were were sipping Margaritas and chowing down on quesadillas.
Wepull the door at El Serrano and it was locked. We couldn't imagine that it was closed!! Then the 5 foot 3 Jeannette stands on her tippy toes and pushes her face against the glass of the door and can see people walking toward us. We think they are staff people here to let us in. It turns out, they were people leaving lunch. So we scammed our way into the Peruvian compound and find a server. We ask if they're still serving lunch. He says they stopped serving at 2pm. I asked him, "What time is it now?" He says 2:02. Jeannette and I put on our best puppy dog eyes and say, "Pleeeeaaaassseeee!" I even showed him the bandaid on the crook of my arm and explain I just got blood work after chest surgery and that I had cancer and we just want margaritas. We laid it on pretty thick. Before we knew it, he was bringing us menus.
We order and start licking the salt around our margaritas. (Note: prescription narcotics and tequilla go great together!) I put my phone on the table. Fourty-five minutes and two margaritas later, Kristin calls my phone. She says, "Pucker up, Buttercup!" In that moment, I knew. I knew it was less than zero. I knew I didn't have cancer anymore.
Jeannette is hugging me and crying. I'm still on the phone with Kristin thanking her over and over again. She said she was so nervous to look at the number but that it was a mere 1.2 and she was so happy to be the one to deliver the good news. Kristin could hear Jeannette and I were making a racket already, so she told us to have another margarita to celebrate.
I hung up the phone, put my hands over my face and just started to sob. Just sob, like shoulder-shaking sobbing. Jeannette was just holding me and crying too. We said a Thank you prayer to God and she just held me and rocked me back and forth. I will remember that moment forever. Forever.
i've been so blessed by so many wonderful friends during this whole ordeal, but it was more than just a lucky fluke that Jeannette could drive me to my bloodwork. I think God picked her to be with me. And I am so thankful for that.
So we cried and cried. Jeannette said, "Fuck yeah, you're done with cancer!" I smiled at her unabashed vulgarity - very un-Jeannette, but very Meredith! My mouth was rubbing off on her and she thought this would be a great time to use the f-bomb! I couldn't agree more. And I promised her I wouldn't blog that, but it's part of the story. So sorry, Jeannette. You're the mother-fucking best!!
Jeannette encouraged me to call Chris immediately and I did. She texted her husband to share our news too. Chris can't always answer the phone when he is at work. It was like 3:00 now and Chris would be in the middle of seeing patients. It would have been a little anti-climatic to get his voicemail. But my handsome husband, who has always been there for me, picked up. I could barely get the words out. My words were probably like one of those Far Side cartoons about what dogs hear: Blah Blah Blah Molly Blah Blah Blah Treat Blah Blah. The first sentence I eeked out in between sobs was more like Blah Blab Blah 1.2 Blah Blah Cancer-free. Either way, Chris got the message loud and clear. He understood that this trial is probably over. He was laughing and congratulating me and telling me again and again that he loved me. I love him.
So what do you do next?? You order more margaritas!! By now, I've made such a scene in this restaurant we had to talk our way into, the server knows I just found out I'm cancer-free. He buys our third round. This is when we decided we can't drive home ... drunk at 3:30 in the afternoon ... and call a cab. Right after that call we get our fourth margaritas. Katie said it reminds her of the phrase: "One margarita, two margaritas, three margaritas, floor!"
We eventually pour our margaritas into To-Go cups and then pour ourselves into the cab. This big, black cab driver looked a little ticked he was waiting outside the restaurant so long. We got in and explained our midday drunkenness. He smiled, mellowed and gave me a high-five for being cancer free. I rubbed his head and said, soon I'll have a rocking hair cut like you! I think we won him over too!
By four, I was home, making phone calls to my immediate family. Next, I need to nap my margaritas away. And at 6:30, Chris came home. I've never been so happy to see him. He just held me and held me and held me. Hugging me, kissing me, saying he was so happy. I am so happy. We are so happy. We haven't actually spoken to a doctor yet, we're just going by the hCG. But it hasn't been <2.0 in a year and a half. I think we're done.
I will keep you posted on the official-ness of being Cancer-Free.
All that's left to be said now is Thank You. It doesn't seem that two simple words could be enough to convey my gratefulness. But please know, I'm so thankful, for all of you.
xoxo
FUCK YEAH!!!!!
Monday, April 29, 2013
2 Quick Things I Forgot ....
First: That last post sounded a little blue. I want to be clear: I am so excited!! I can't WAIT to go under the knife. It's the last time I'll have cancer. Today is the last day I'll ever have cancer. How could you not be excited!!
Second: My friend Jenn sent this today. Made me smile. It pretty much sums up what we're about to do ...
Second: My friend Jenn sent this today. Made me smile. It pretty much sums up what we're about to do ...
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