It ain't over 'til it's over

And it ain't over.

At some point, a "5-10% chance" that I'd need surgery turned into "about 40% of cases need surgery." I don't know if he was lying to me then to ease my mind, or lying to me now to ease my mind, or if there's some Kabbalistic difference between the two statements. But the point being, I need surgery. In all other ways, I am in all-but-unbelievably good health. I am recovering from chemotherapy with nearly (but not quite) unheard of speed and efficiency.

Just, there's something in my lung. Maybe a bit of tumor (bad!). Maybe a bit of scar tissue (benign). Maybe a nifty little thing called a teratoma (will eventually turn into cancer; next week or in 2030, it's impossible to predict). We can't know without removing it. And so remove it we shall.

I know nothing else right now. I talk to a thoracic surgeon one week from today. After that, I'll know the where and when and everything else worth knowing.

Honestly, this is more annoying than upsetting.

But I am finding it difficult to maintain my sense of joy.

These are the days of miracle and wonder

I went and got myself a CT scan today, and with a little bit of luck I will learn in three days that there's not one damn speck of cancer left anywhere inside of me.

In what I cannot believe is a coincidence, I have been happier today than I have been in oh, about twelve weeks. If I believed in the soul, I'd say I had a weight lifted from it. As is, I'll just say that I am profoundly relaxed and (dare I - I, of all nihilistically gloomy men! - say it) full of joy for life. I can't bring myself to believe that there's anything left to worry about.

A 5% chance that I'll need surgery to remove scar tissue. But what's 5%?

Come on, Thursday! Let's get it over with! I'm soon to move on, and begin my fucking life again! God, it feels good to say that! Everything feels good!

לחיים

It's over!

I have received the last dose of chemo I will ever receive. And I have suffered no ill effects today; perhaps a little fatigue (damn you Benadryl!), but certainly no fevers or anything else unpleasant.

I'm done with chemo. I'm done with motherfucking chemo! I still feel all excited saying it...I know it's only been nine weeks, but they've been hell. And they're over now. Yeah, it'll take a while for my body to recover (I won't be doing any marathons this month), and technically, I haven't been "cleared" and it's possible that I might yet need surgery. But the chemo is over. Which is a very wonderful thing.

Josh Elder - whose personal experience puts my whiny two months to shame - gave me a bit of advice awhile back: "those first few weeks post-chemo will be some of the best in your life. Savor them." Thank you, Mr. Elder. I think I shall.