July 31, 2010 Good News

I practically bounce out of my oncologist's door, Tigger fashion. I hadn't expected anything in the way of good news. I thought I would discover the slow-but-steady destruction of my heart, evidenced by a rise in blood pressure. And I expected an analysis of my bone density test to reveal rapidly spreading osteoporosis. These two things are the common side effects of the tiny pill I take daily to prevent the return of my estrogen fed cancer. A necessary evil.

But my blood pressure is back to its pre-cancer level and the bone density test reveals no change. And my blood analysis reveals normal counts. "Do you continue to see me quarterly?" I ask Dr. Kato, who is notably grayer. He checks my chart and smiles, enjoying any opportunity to dispense good news. "Six months," he says. "It's been two years," he adds. "I'm a two year survivor," I say, mulling this over. Two years since my diagnosis. It seems much longer.

The news of these reports leaves me feeling energized. I leave his office feeling taller and lighter. As we head home though, checking the time, I think of Kate McCrae, the six year old who is, at this moment, climbing onto the Pet scan table to discover whether her malignant brain tumor is gone or growing. I am instantly sobered and pray my own good news will be hers.

Tonight I nervously open an email from Kate's mother. I subscribe to her site through The Caring Bridge. I pray silently, "Please God." Tears spill while I read of this young mother's prayers as she takes the phone call to hear the news. The results of Kate's Pet scan are "Negative!" No new growth! I read the email twice absorbing this great news. I have yet to meet the McCraes and yet, I read this news as if they are family. I rejoice with them as if it is my own family. No new cancer, the ongoing story ending we all crave for someone in our lives.

For now, I feel a deep sense of peace. Looking back on the storm that was cancer in my life is far less frightening. The capital "C" is gone for now and I can see the normal challenges of life in a more balanced perspective. The important things have been put in their proper order. Like a broken bone, my life has been reset, grown stronger than before. For now, it is enough.