In other news, we received the results of my latest ct scan on Friday.
My old oncologist used to call me to answer my questions or give me test results as late as nine or ten o'clock at night. Eric and I were scared out of our minds in those early days. We'd wait on pins and needles, and we'd cling to each other. There were times when I didn't want to be as far away from Eric as the next room. When the phone would ring my heart would jump into my throat. I was madly, blindly, afraid.
The night that the doctor called with the test results that confirmed that I had metastatic disease, Eric listened to the call on an extension. I thanked him for the call, and told him that I understood that it was difficult to make a prediction, but did he have any idea how long I might have to live?
"With luck, four or five years," he said.
That was 2.5 years ago, and in the big picture I've had a decent quality of life. I've not had much in the way of luck, though.
This is what it looks like when I get a ct scan, except I have no hair and my arm is covered with bandages and cotton from failed IV attempts.
I quickly failed hormonal treatment (which is the key to any kind of long term survival) and now I've failed Taxol. While my second (or third, or fourth) line drug COULD work, and could work for a year or more -- it's really just not probable.
I'm not saying it couldn't happen. It could happen. But my best bets have been exhausted.
I dunno.
I'm not without my own version of hope. I have wishes, at least -- wishes for more time & happiness with Eric, wishes for another Christmas and a Christmas tree with a little more oomph in its branches -- and I believe they can come true.
More immediately, tonight I get to sleep next to the love of my life and my favorite person in the world. Something or someone at work tomorrow will make laugh & laugh. No complaints, here. Yet. I reserve the right for later.
1 comment:
your tree is divine
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