Numb3rs

Numbers.
365 days.
1 surgery
2 colonoscopies
2 MRIs
2 CT scans
3 PET scans
5 ER visits
12 chemo treatments
25 pounds gone (10 jumped right back on)
150 hot flashes
-20 wind chill
1 weekly support session
47 Caringbridge entries
5 pairs of gloves
3 hats
2 wool socks
1 chemo blanket
1 chemo fanny pack (burned)
1 grey hoodie.
$252,000+ billed to insurance companies
And a million prayers said!
All this in the one year since I received my colon cancer diagnosis.  One more number that really takes the cake – two weeks ago at my latest blood test, my tumor marker (CEA level) test came back…  <=5 of whatever units they measure is considered normal or good…  my number…. 1.4!!!
I feel pretty amazing.  Hands and feet getting better every day (love my B vitamins!), muscles stronger, taste buds back (hence the 10 pounds), hair growing (I’ve got bangs!  I haven’t had bangs since 4th grade!).  There are days when the memory of my cancer journey seems like a dream that someone else lived.  Then there are days when I remember every gut-wrenching side effect and am thankful they are, simply, a memory now.  (Especially those clear the room chemo farts!!!)
Thanks for being along for the ride, for your words of support and encouragement, for the meals, the rides, the “sure, we can talk about this cancer thing some more” patience and for the love.  It’s what makes everything bearable. 
Love you.  Thank you. 

Vacation reading list

Lovers at the chameleon club Paris 1932  by Francine Prose

An unnecessary woman by Rabih Alameddine

Paris by Edward Rutherford

Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut

The first one is finished. Beginning the second. Check back for my thoughts & views.

One year ago I was clueless....

It feels so strange to be here. It seems surreal that one year ago I had NO clue what I was about to be faced with, undergo and overcome. Last year at this time I was nursing a confused, sad heart. I had no idea that my colon was nursing a cancerous tumor. No idea.

It was a little overwhelming for me today as I set out on my usual lake house walk to recall last year's vacation and the innocence I had. I look at the flowers, the farmhouses, the baby chipmunks differently now.  I felt slightly jaded as I walked on feet that still feel stumpy but are improving daily (approximately one millimeter per day). Gone is the feeling of youthful hope and joyful wind breezing through my soul. There is a quiet tentativeness instead. Believe me, I am happy to be alive and to be done with these last twelve months, but I'm just way more emotionally cautious now. Your life can change in a flash. And that flash can feel like forever. And ever. And ever.

I am happy to be here. I've got my stack of library books to read. And, they've got wi-fi here now. (Insert smiley face emoticon). It's just different now. It won't ever be the same. Nor will I.

The one-year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis is ten days away... I'm betting I'll be spending a lot of time remembering this time last year. Pardon me while I retreat into my soul for a few. I'll be back. I promise.