Catbird Seat

It used to be that I’d had cancer BUT… I’d gone through treatment, and it was entirely possible that I would be ooooookay – I could live a long life and die from something else. I wasn’t one of those poor women with metastatic disease.

Then I had metastatic disease, BUT… it was only in my bones, and it was estrogen receptor positive – hormonal treatment could keep me alive for many years, and at least I wasn’t one of those poor women with soft tissue disease.

Then the cancer spread to my lungs, BUT… there was still a possibility that the hormonal treatments could work, and at least I wasn’t one of those poor women with cancer in her liver.

I’m sure the trend is recognizable by now.

Then the hormonal treatments failed, and the cancer spread to my liver, BUT… chemotherapy could still work, and at least I wasn’t one of those poor women with cancer in her brain. Yet.

We hope that chemotherapy will send us into remission, and then we hope for partial remission, and then we think that if the chemotherapy would only keep us stable, we’d be happy… and then we think that if the cancer would just grow slowly, that’d be fine.

Other than THAT… well… it’s a fine day. I’m at work, having a sleepy but otherwise productive day. Eric is handsome and the coffee is good. I can’t complain. On the other hand, I’m running out of reasons to feel that I’m in an advantageous position! Except for Eric, of course – my constant ace-in-the-hole.