This past week, I heard the results of the latest round of films: none of my tumors has grown in the past couple of months, and the one on my liver appears to be slightly smaller than it was. This is very good news, about as good as one can get at my stage of cancer and cancer treatment. For which I’m very thankful. Enough italicized verys.
Silver linings usually come with clouds attached, and in this instance the nature of the cloud is, well, not at all cloudy: I have to do more chemo. The basic drill for most cancers that have metastasized in multiple places (three in my case), multiple times (twice so far) is simple: you do chemo as long as it holds the stuff off, shrinks it, or keeps it from growing. I’ve been on this round of chemo since the beginning of August, which feels like a long time. But it will go on some months longer—and, if things go better than expected, the number of months gets larger. Meaning, the outcome for which I’m rooting involves more of something I hate. On the other hand, when the cancer news turns bad, as one day (probably soon) it will, perhaps I’ll be able to celebrate chemo’s end. Cancer news is always a mix of good and bad.
But plainly, this news is mostly good. Thanks to my docs and nurses, thanks to the spouse who sits through every one of those chemo sessions with me, thanks to the friends who pray for me regularly and, most of all, thanks to the God who has seen fit to keep me alive awhile longer.