October 12th, 2011

I got the phone call from my surgeon that I have been waiting for.  He informed me that the results from my CT scan were in… and then he paused.  My heart stopped and my eyes filled with tears.  I was hopeful that after 2 surgeries, radiation and chemotherapy perhaps I had a chance of being cancer-free.  After getting bad news and more bad news, it is really difficult to be optimistic, especially when I was so certain after the first surgery it would be gone.  I also had reminders of how deadly this cancer can be, through random stories finding their way to me or reading up on life after radiation, etc.  I questioned whether my chest x-ray prior to treatments was read correctly, as perhaps they missed a microscopic area in my lungs or other organs that was growing a breed of terminal cancer (once the cancer reached my lymph nodes, it became likely that the cancer could spread to my organs and be terminal, giving me an estimated 9-12 months to live… it is still a possibility).  The pause seemed to last for minutes.  He continued with, ‘the report reads that you have no residual traces of cancer in your tongue, and your lymph nodes are clear.  You’re in remission.’

Remission. 

I had never applied this term to my future.  I’ve heard others use it, but for some reason, couldn’t allow myself to get ahead of the outcome.  With the rollercoaster of emotions, and celebrating the triumphs and downfalls, I have been in a state where I can only manage the present. Thinking about the next step has only brought me pain in this journey- staying in the here and now has made it possible for me to cope.  I still have a very high chance of recurrence, meaning that it is likely my cancer will come back (either on my tongue or my in the lymph nodes on the right side of my neck).  But for now, it appears the cancer is at bay.  For right now, my cancer is in remission.

I got off the phone and looked around me.  I was in shock.  I cried.  I hugged my sister and my cousin.  I looked at Bu and smiled.  I sent messages to my family, including to my Mom who is in Florida for work.  She phoned me back in tears, grateful for the news.  This has been so difficult for all of us, and to finally get some good news is something we collectively need. 

I can’t help but think of how aggressive the disease was.  And it makes me feel that there is another person out there who isn’t as lucky as me.  Someone was waiting for the call as I was, but they got bad news when I was told my good news.  I had a high chance of needing surgery right now, but for now I’m in the clear.  Of course, the recurrence rate is unfortunately high and I will likely get a devastating phone call again, but for now, I can breathe.

All those months ago, I was heartbroken when I got told I had cancer the second time- I was more devastated than my initial diagnosis- it meant my options were running out.  I’ve definitely not recovered from that experience, but I’m on my way.  This gives me a push to believe I can move on.  The fear may never go away completely, but I haven’t felt a peace like this in a long time.

People have been asking me, ‘What now?’.  The answer isn’t very clear to me, though I have a list of therapies I need to start focusing on.  And a list of things I need to come to terms with.  At various stages of this journey I have thought that the healing had begun, but I believe I am just now embarking on this path.   

I have a renewed sense of strength today.  I have a future again.