Midterms, Cancer U: The Importance of Being Awesome

This morning, 2:30am, I was wondering. In the middle of what I call a snot slide, my seasonal allergies sending more crap down my throat post nasally than I can handle. This feels like choking, it's impossible to ignore or sleep through. I was wondering;  am I better? is this necessary? can this possibly be normal?

Today I've had my date with the doctor and I'm sitting in the infusion center waiting for my blood work to confirm that I'm healthy enough for some more toxicity this week. My midterm grades awaited me here, the answer to those early morning questions, the bonus questions of my cancer tests.

So, without further ado, the scan: I am awesome!  Everything I hoped that I was feeling correctly is indeed true--no spread of cancer, no sign of some of the earlier spread, and this applies to the head, neck, and chest. There are two spots, one on each side, that will bear watching--two little centimeter sorts of tumors--a bit less than an inch on the left, a bit more than an inch on the right. But, for someone who's supposed to be half dead by now, this midterm grade is A+. It's nice to see a doctor smile, and nicer still when he says:  I love to see the experts proved wrong.

And those bonus questions? Ah, seasonal allergies--they aren't fun for the fully functional, and just less so for me. I don't clean out as well as would be helpful--but here again the doctor and I agree: I don't want another pill! So, until it's proven I can't do without a daily Allegra sort of thing, I will avoid it. I'll take my sudafed on demand and hope it proves at least sufficient to soothing my anxiety.  This year's season of high tide looks to be particularly galling, and I can survive this one, I can survive any.


As far as the joy of proving experts wrong, I doubt I have to tell you that's exactly what I think, too. I've been alternately horrified and pissed off that those experts might be right--but I suppose that's been apparent throughout this narrative. I kept getting clear signs, personally, that things were better, and kept hearing personally how things were likely worse. Maybe this means I'll get my prosthetics, maybe this means that Surgery 2, that delayed bit of future fun, will happen this Autumn. It's odd to look forward to surgery, I know, but I'd like to get this one out of the way.

I know this is a short update, but they've just started my benadryl drip in anticipation of the erbitux and methotrexate. One can't tell it in this room, but the sun is out in Bloomington. The day started warm today. Once today's drip is done, I have a nap calling me. After that, a garden calling my name. Then a future tapping me on the shoulder, and tsking me for ever believing anything other than it was there, available, and mine for the asking.