Three months ago, today, I sat in Dr. H's office and was given an estimated 3-6 months to act before this tumor chokes me out.
Two months ago, today, I sat in Dr. Z's office in Texas and was told that #9 hadn't shown enough growth in the month from May-June 18th to merit starting another treatment plan right away.
A week from today, I fly back to Texas. I'll have another round of tests/scans done Thursday and I'll get the results on Friday.
Fingers crossed that the scan will show that my little friend is still little and I can squeak in another couple chemo-free months before I go back into treatment.
I know that it just is what it is, and when I'll go back into treatment and how that's going to look is totally beyond my control. But man alive, am I grateful for the last three months.
I am tired in a way that I didn't know existed eight months ago, and I have some discomfort that is pretty consistently bordering on pain these days, but I've said it before and I'll say it again... I will take feeling this level of crappy all day long, and for as long as I can get away with it.
I haven't been all that awesome about blogging lately. And, I'm sorry, but... I'm not sorry. It's because I've been busy squeezing as much life out my life as I can, and the reality is that all that living has made me really tired.
But listen... it's been a great three months. I mean, the best.
Here's to hoping that the doctors' calculations are off and I have, like, 372 months left. (And hey, assuming they're wrong, someday I'll get back to blogging again. Promise!)