Turns out, being told you no longer have cancer is really similar to being told you don’t.
Numb with shock, immediately crying upon hanging up the phone, the entirely surreal feeling about the whole thing; these are the constants between diagnosis and being told you’re clear.
The main difference: the feelings that ultimately emerge. With my diagnosis, that was heartbreak and fear, but also resolve. With the latest news, relief, hope, and happiness. Like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
I meet with the doc on Tuesday to schedule the port removal, which she says should be able to be scheduled quickly since it’s a short procedure. From there, I’ll see her again at the end of July for our first monitoring appointment, and a true “No Evidence of Disease” (NED).
I suspect this blog will start slowing down as my treatment comes to an end (until we take on the boobs). Thank you for coming along with me on this journey. For letting me talk endlessly about poop. For the comments of encouragement and love, which I read multiple times during shitty days to help keep my spirits up. You strengthened me and helped me beat this monster. For that, I am grateful.