What’s Next?
My husband’s best life skipping lines at amusement parks has come to a close. I’d say that was his favorite part of cancer. Me having medical conditions to bypass the lines was a huge highlight for him. He didn’t have to stand in lines for hours with restless children. Heck, I didn’t have to stand in lines with my husband losing his mind.
Thankfully the side effects of a year's worth of chemotherapy have subsided, leaving me without a medical condition requiring I bypass some pretty intense lines. I praise God every time I fill out my symptom sheet at the doctor’s office. There are over forty-five side effects of cancer or chemotherapy that get monitored at each appointment. I am always in awe of the fact that I have a handful or less of mild side effects.
My most up to date side effects of treatment and damage from cancer include: achy legs, soreness in my lower back where the tumor was evicted, gynecological issues, and fatigue. Gladly, I will wait in line for the blessing of my health.
Next in line, my favorite part: my port is coming out.
My port coming out really symbolizes achieving a positive outcome. This journey of: treatment, not clear, waiting, more treatment, additional biopsies, all clear has no match to not physically needing my port. July’s port removal cannot come soon enough. This will be a glorious day. Glorious.
In addition to my port coming out, I will continue to see my physicians. Every three months for a couple of years I will see my oncologist for a physical assessment. Then, every six months for five years, I will have a CT scan. Indeed, I will graduate from PET scans and switch to CT scans as long as my body doesn’t warrant a need for radioactive tracers. I will also frequent the stem cell transplant team for follow up at the six month and one year mark.
More complicated than my port coming out will be updating my immunizations at the end of summer. The inpatient chemo I received in February wiped out my immune system of childhood vaccinations. I am not looking for advice in the differing worlds of immunizations. This is just another tricky piece of walking through cancer that leaves me not knowing what to do, or what avenue to take.
The news of remission doesn’t warrant life starting over. There are residual effects from the cancer and treatment. My oncologist even went on to say to not be surprised if depression comes up for me and my husband.
The world of remission is far from sunshine and celebrations. It’s the hard work of moving forward while my friends’ ports stay in. It’s embracing medical freedom. It’s using what I experienced in my cancer journey for good. It’s finding unshaken stability in trusting God’s goodness in this fragile world.
