Remember when I used to send you these updates every couple of weeks because that’s just how touch-and-go things seemed?
Yeah, you remember. June 4, 2014, the day I come out of surgery into a new world. Sixteen days later the first port goes in; and four days after that, the first chemo; then exactly six weeks after the first port goes in, it has to come out and three days later the second one goes in and there are treatments and sickness, and tears, and waiting and so much support and so much love from you.
While I had that first chemo treatment on June 24, 2014, a nurse came to tell me what to expect. Two years. Overcoming this cancer will be your primary concern for two years, she said. Fifty-percent of ovarian cancers recur in the first two years. You’ll need to stay near your doctor for two years. You’ll need to keep your port for two years. Two years of recovering and waiting and praying and hoping for the best. (But I found the best; I found all of you and so much more.) Since my sixth and last chemo was actually in October 2014, the two-year clock started ticking then.
November 2016 was my two-year scan. “Clear scan, port out” was a mantra I chanted for the six months from May to November. (May seemed to be some sort of breaking point where I just couldn’t bear the weight/wait much longer, but of course, I did.) Round came November and a… a not-a-clear scan. A something new might be there scan. A do some other tests, then wait three months and see scan.
Here’s what I wanted to tell you:
That wait and see scan was six weeks ago and it was clear.
And it was five weeks ago when Dr. Powell said to me, “It’s time to go live your life now.”
And it was later that week that I laid on a table and they cut that port out of my chest. And now the stitches are mostly healed and the soreness is almost gone and I can finally imagine that it’s finally ok to tell you guys what Dr. Powell said.
“It’s time to go live your life now.”
Did you hear it? I heard it five weeks ago, but it’s taken this long for it to mean something.
It’s time to go live my life now. Thank God and thank you, my dearest of dear ones who kept me going when I thought I never could. I just thought that you’d like to know.
Blessings and peace for all you are and all you do and all that we go through together.
Love and more love,