Cancer “road trips” like mine come with no map.
Not even a good GPS to lean on. It’s like taking off on a cross-country journey and having to completely rely on pulling over every few hours and asking random passerby for directions.
You might get there eventually, but you also run the risk of winding up in swamp somewhere wondering when the road stopped and the “gators” started.
That’s why cancer Doctors love scans. They are roadmaps, reports cards, little signposts that hopefully shed some light on where you’re going, how you’re doing, and more importantly… how fast or slow you’re getting there.
In three years I think I have been scanned in one way or another, close to twenty times. The scanning itself can be taxing, but the waiting afterwards is the fun part. A lot of time to wonder where the results will take you. What your next stop on this “road trip” will be. “Will he be a dream… or a dud?”
Well, my last date with the scan… was a good one. The tumors are smaller, the “metabolic activity” is greatly reduced and there are no new spots. To quote the report: “Results consistent with positive therapeutic response.” Doctor speak for… so far – the poison is working.
That’s the good news. The not so good is my “Oncologist Who No Longer Hates Me” believes we finally have it on the run so now is the perfect time to double down. My nine weeks of chemo will now become twelve. Or fifteen. Even eighteen if I can handle it.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad it’s working. Grateful beyond belief… but it makes for a long summer. The “cancercation” continues.
But we’ll keep going for as long as it takes. Hell, there’s got to be an off-ramp around here somewhere.