Last
week Erin and I took a whirlwind trip to Duke to meet with my neuro-oncologist,
have my blood drawn and get an MRI. The good news is that the MRI was clean,
which drew big sighs of relief from Erin and myself. There’s really no bad news
except that I’ll have to endure two more cycles of chemotherapy, which I
expected would be the case. Due to the fact that I’ve tolerated the first two
cycles so well, the doctor sees no reason not to continue the regimen with the
theory that, in this case, more is better.
I must
say, I’m not looking forward to tomorrow morning when I return to the hospital
for three more days of total discomfort. I know it can be done because I’ve
done it twice, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I think I’m reaching the
point that I’m just so drained and tired of the weight of cancer. There are bright spots, like a clean
MRI or the knowledge that I’m nearing the end of treatment, but I hate that
this is my job: beating cancer. As the popular bumper sticker suggests: “I’d rather be
fishing.”
After
our meeting with my doc at Duke, Erin and I rushed to the airport for my flight
back home to Denver (Erin took a different flight because he headed off to LA to begin a 4-day trip). Arriving only 20 minutes prior to departure, I knew my
chances of making the flight were slim. Without any time to debrief my doc
visit, Erin and I parted briskly then I headed for security. Luckily, the lines
were short and I was making good time until a TSA agent asked me to remove my
hat. I told the woman in a soft voice that I had cancer and would prefer a
private screening due to the fact that I was bald. She could tell I was in
distress about making my flight and frankly, I was feeling pretty vulnerable in
that moment. She sped up the process and cleared me to collect my belongings. A
moment later, with my back turned, she put her hand on my shoulder and said,
“You’re not alone in this fight.” With a lump in my throat, I rushed on the
airplane shoes untied, took my seat, put on my sunglasses and let out the tears
I’d been holding in. I just wanted to get home and see my boys.
Love,
Sareana
