A Chapter Ends…
As we drive through Farmington at dusk this evening, en route home from a quick trip to Phoenix to see my oncologist, we pass a familiar Starbucks that brings back a vivid memory.
On a gray, chilly Wednesday morning in late 2015 Patrick and I rose at 5 a.m. to make the hour drive over to Farmington for my first PET scan (there were no scan appointments open in Durango that week). As I checked in at 7 a.m., I felt nervous, scared, so unsure of what to expect.
It’s been almost five years since I first found out I had cancer. It was the week of Thanksgiving, a Monday afternoon, and somehow my doctor managed to squeeze me in for that scan before the holiday. “The sooner you get in, the sooner we can stage you and determine a treatment plan” he said.
After I finished we drove to Starbucks and grabbed lattes and breakfast and as I nibbled on my ham and cheese breakfast sandwich I still remember the sense of shock I felt.
Was this all really happening? It all felt surreal. One of my best friends was dying from cancer (she would pass away the following week) and I was in the throes of my first cycle of IVF at the time, too. This new diagnosis added to the uncertainty and heaviness I was already feeling.
Fast forward to present day. It’s the end of July and I’m now three weeks out from finishing a two-year course of treatment. Remission has always been the goal and my scan this week will tell us whether that’s been achieved.
I wake up early on Wednesday for yet another 7 a.m. PET scan (I’ve learned it’s better to do them early – you have to fast for 6 hours beforehand!) and this time I feel like an old pro.
After two unsuccessful attempts to begin my IV I reassure the young tech, Eric, that I have tricky veins and it’s not his fault. I joke with the nurse he calls in to try next and tell both of them that “the third time’s always a charm.” Which is not always the case with me, but thankfully it is today.
With the dye injected now I go into the “resting room” for the hour requisite wait time.
Scan complete, I head outside where Patrick’s picking me up. As I wait in the already sweltering Phoenix heat (100 degrees at 9 a.m.) I wonder what the scan will show. My intuition says things will look good, but I’ve been wrong before. I’ve learned to envision the best and be prepared for anything.
The usual “scanxiety” I feel is somewhat present, but less than in the past. The only explanation I have for this is that I know I’ve done the best I can to support my body and help it heal. The rest is out of my hands. Or, as my friend Julie would say, “It’s above my pay grade.”
My oncologist is half an hour late. We sit in the exam room, masks on, making small talk for a while, and then hear his voice as he walks down the hall and come in to the room where we’re waiting.
The first thing he says is “Well, I’ve got good news. Your scans look the clearest they’ve ever been.” A moment that takes my breath away, followed by a deep exhale.
Lightness. A lifting. That feeling of someone picking you up and twirling you around… the way my Dad used to do sometimes when I was a little girl. A feeling of giddiness washes over me.
“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the number of moments that take our breath away.” -Anonymous
And relief. No more uncertainty for now. As we look at the scan images on the screen it is clear that the cancer spots that have been there before are either gone or so miniscule that they can barely be seen.
I have been dreaming about hearing the word “remission” now for two years. Working my ass off to help it happen. Making choices each day that align with supporting my body’s healing. So to hear my doctor utter that word when he is speaking about me feels amazing.
In a way it feels like I’ve come full circle this week. From that cold gray November morning in 2015 to this present day when the current chapter of “Operation Heal” (what my husband and I have called this healing journey I’ve been on the last few years) is coming to a close.
I have so much more to share about what I’ve learned and how I’ve been shaped by this journey. So while the chapter may be ending the story is not. I’ll be sharing more as time goes on.
But for now I’m going to sit back for a while and enjoy the lightness I feel.
And I’m not sure if it was a coincidence, or not, but this morning I went to grab a coffee mug in the little Airbnb where we were staying in Phoenix and it had one of my favorite quotes on it:
“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the number of moments that take our breath away.” -Anonymous
I’d love to hear about any moments that have taken your breath away lately, too.
Please feel free to share them in the comments below!
Xo
Mindy